Half drunk with eggnog, Eric Stahlbaum stumbled home well after midnight. A sliver of regret infiltrated his warm body as he recalled how he had promised his daughter that they would open presents when he got home. It was much too late now.

"Oh well, she'll understand," the Councilman murmured as he unlocked the front door of his home, "She always has."

As he staggered inside, he immediately became aware of the icy temperature that filled the house. Rubbing his hands over his arms, he ambled through the house, an apology already forming on his lips.

Entering the living room, his eyes landed on the twinkling tree in the corner of the room. His eyes caught there because the tree was the only light in the room, for the fireplace had long since burned low. Shivering against the cold, Mr. Stahlbaum knelt next to the fireplace and quickly coaxed the red ashes back into a steady flame. Within a few minutes, the room was once again filled with warmth.

"Now that I'm not freezing, can we talk?" He began, having assumed that his daughter was lying on the couch behind him. Recently it had become her favorite spot.

To his surprise, when he turned around, his daughter was nowhere to be found. Swallowing his fear, he strode forward and examined the couch. Lying on a pillow was one of Ember's black curls.

Pinching the curl between his fingers, Mr. Stahlbaum began to tremble as he realized what had befallen his daughter. Unwilling to admit the truth just yet, he dashed out of the room and searched the house top to bottom. Having only found ghosts of memories, he sprinted outside to the stable, where the only living thing he encountered was Ember's mare, who looked at him with sad eyes.

Running a hand through his thinning hair, Ember's father analyzed the curl in his fingers, begging it to reveal a different explanation of his daughter's whereabouts. To his devastation, he could decipher nothing from the few strands of hair except one thing.

"Cyborgs." The realization echoed through the empty house. Stahlbaum had always feared that this could happen. It had happened to several of the other council members too; one day, one of their children vanished and never returned. The only remnant of them was a single lock of hair.

Of course, the parents of these stolen children received notes from the cyborgs threatening that the child would never return unless their demands were completed. For the good of the Commonwealth, those demands were never met, and so the lost child was never seen again.

Without a doubt, the child's parents mourned over their son or daughter's loss, but they weren't sad forever, for they had other children to occupy their time and attention.

"I only had one," he cried and gazed up at the mantle, where a picture of his late wife sat. With her raven curls and compassionate eyes, Ember bore a stunning resemblance to her mother.

"Oh, Eleanor, I have failed you," Stahlbaum sobbed, "I didn't protect our daughter, and now... Whether she is killed, or she learns the truth, I won't ever see her again. I'm alone." Collapsing onto the couch, he held his head in his hands.

Get her back, a voice whispered, Get her back before she learns what she is. The voice might have been a figment of his imagination, but regardless, it sparked a flame in him. With this flame, he would burn through the Cyborg Confederation until, sifting through the ashes, he found his beloved daughter.

"I'm coming, Ember," he vowed and stood to his feet.