"Rory." He stopped in his tracks, turning around to see the girl who'd called his name. She stood just beside the school entrance, arms crossed, staring him down. "Tiffany," he responded apprehensively. "You've been avoiding me." She twirled her long, blond hair around a manecured finger. Her voice was that sort of fake sweet that sets off alarm bells and tells you to get away. "Really? I, uh, hadn't noticed." Tiffany shoved off of her perch by the doorway and approached Rory. "What gives?" "Nothing gives. I just... didn't have a reason to talk to you." "Aren't I a reason?" She fake pouted. "Tiff, do you want something from me?" She sighed. "I want to talk. You know, talk." Her voice took on the sickly sweet quality again. "Like we-" "I need to go." He turned his back on her and started to walk. "Wait!" He didn't wait. "Rory, wait!" He ran a hand through his hair as he neared the school gates, inhaling tensely. "I love you, Rory Moore!" He stopped. He heard her panting behind him in the cool air as he turned back to her, slowly. Her normally cool and collected demeanor was gone, and she looked desperate. Almost vulnerable. "There. Will you talk to me now?" The question hung in the air for several moments. "Tiff..." She looked at him with big eyes. "I know that's not true." "God damn it, Rory. Why are you like this? Why can't we just act like we're supposed to?" "We're not 'supposed' to do anything!" "You promised!" She pointed a finger at him accusatorily. "We're supposed to be together!" "Tiff, you don't love me any more than I love that pebble over there. We both just wanted to please our parents!" "You know," she switched into a biting, vicious tone, one of the many she kept on hand. "Anybody else in this school would kill for a chance like this. So what is it that's wrong with you?" "Not anybody else's father is the mayor, I guess," he bit back. "Who said anything about that? What's that got to do with it? Maybe I just like you for you." He looked at her, and a hint of shame crept into her face. "You never visited. When I was in the hospital." She looked down. "I was busy," she muttered. "But I heard. I cared." "Right." "I'm serious, I'm working on it. You wait and see if there's a girl in this school who'll touch one of the guys that did that to you, after the stories I'm spreading." "I don't need you to spread rumors for me," Rory shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing unhappily at his cast. "Well, I can't just beat everyone up like your buddy Nick." She threw her hands up in the air. "You're really gonna break our promise over a hospital visit?" "It's not that." "Then what? As far as I remember, we were all good last year. What happened?" "We were never 'good.' You don't want this and neither do I." "It's been good as guaranteed since the day we were born. Everyone's expecting it. We're as inevitable as Nick and Sam. I've been keeping up my end of our promise, but you- It's like you want to ruin everything." "Keeping up your end by spreading lies and gossip?" "Because you're so perfect, right? And you don't think I can do anything about Vik and his crew? Well just you wait and see what my petty gossip can do, Rory. I'm gonna set this school straight, and you'd better be paying attention when I do."

Lorraine felt sick. She leaned against the counter, gloved hand clasped over her mouth, eyes squeezed shut. She gripped the counter with her other hand, but all the strength in her body could not save her from swaying with nausea. Horror had settled into her stomach, but she had to push it out. She didn't have long. It was a test. Someone had to do it, and she had to prove her loyalty. Her heart sank again as she remembered why she had to do that. They had found out. She'd always been terrified, in the back of her mind, that they would discover her and Kenna. She had stopped it, before it went too far, but that wasn't enough. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. This was their punishment. She had to do this. They were watching. She knew how. She had started already. She just had to finish. She forced her eyes open, only for them to lock onto the small flecks of color on the skirt of her white coat. Blood. Kenna's blood. She shut her eyes again. If she did it right, really right, she told herself they could be done in an hour. But Kenna would never let her, and so it would take longer. She knew why this was happening. She knew why it had to happen, so why wasn't that enough? Kenna wasn't what she remembered, she told herself. Kenna was a terrorist, protecting those _things. _She knew what they did to people. She remembered what they'd done to her. That should have been enough. Her hate and fear should have been enough. They had to be. She had to make them. "It needs to happen," she muttered. "I need to do it, so they can see. I can do it." Slowly, she pushed herself up from the counter. She began to murmur NAIDER's mission under her breath. "The defense of America," she swallowed, "humanity," she opened her eyes, "and our plane of reality from the threats... the threats posed by..." She scanned the room, body unstable. "By creators of tears and those who..." She grabbed what looked like a very large pair of shears. She had to take them with her. She knew, once she left this room, she wouldn't have able to come back and leave it again. "And those who harbor them." She inhaled. Straightened. Balanced and composed herself. She turned to reenter the room. She would do it. It had to be done. "Humanity, Order, Understanding." She opened the door.

Your hand, the voice cooed. How did that happen? _ _"You don't know?" Havard faltered. He had thought she could see... everything. If he was imagining her, wouldn't she know? She laughed. You thought I could see your memories? __ "You can read minds," he muttered bitterly. He didn't know why he was humoring her. How did she know so much about him, then? It barely mattered. He was making it all up, anyway. Hardly. More laughing. Havard winced and wished that covering his ears would be enough to block her out. So, how did it happen? Havard glanced at his hand. The large, dark scar spread across it, ugly as ever. It ached with a pain long gone, as old as his hate. He hoped she felt his pain. Being secretive? Want me to guess? "No," he muttered, but it didn't matter. _The boy? _The queen? She cackled. He wanted to shut her out desperately. "Shut up." She kept laughed. "Shut up." Why? Punishment? _ _Why? Because she had hated him. Because she could. "You're not real," he gritted out, "so why can't I get you out of my head?" More laughing. She was always laughing. Then, it stopped. Because I am real. You know it, in your gut. You can feel it. I'm terribly, terribly real." _ _"No." Yes. _ _Havard clutched his head, praying for pressure, or pain, or anything at all to take him out of his own head for a moment. But I want to help you. I do. To do that, I need to know you. Suddenly, it was like she was softer. What could he do besides be dragged into her? He had nothing to grasp. In his silence and stillness, she read his defeat. He broke. Is it a burn? "Water," he muttered. Silence. Did Cleon notice? Did you tell him? __ "It was an 'accident.' My fault. Clumsiness." Another, longer pause. How old were you? __ "...Seven." His voice broke as he said it. _Why? _She asked again. He swallowed. Inhaled. "Cleon brought me out. That night. To speak to one of the houses, his favorite. It went... well. They... they saw me." He swallowed again. "She made sure it would never happen again." She wanted to taint your memory. __ "She just wanted to hurt me." He could have sworn the voice had sounded strained for a moment. All for that brat. _ _"All for him," Havard repeated listlessly. _Think of who you could have been, what you might have had - if not for him. _ _ _"I don't need to. I know." Crown prince. The thought played on his mind again and again, day in and day out. His rightful place. What they had stolen. What he wanted, more than anything. Take it. Take back what she stole for him. __ "How?" I'll help you.

Billy Brendan Splintificate jolted awake suddenly, jerking the hospital bed and emitting a horrible screeching sound. "Whu, where am I?" He rubbed his head with his long manly fingers. "What herpmed?" He looked adound the room and saw a girl in a bed next to him. Natural bleached blond hair adorned her petite frame. From under her deconstructed messy bun, piercing emerald brown orbs stared out. "Hey," he said, to her and she looked up at him wide-eyed. She looked small and delicate in the oversized hosppital gown. For a second he forgot his confusion as he felt his alpha instincts spring to life. Suddenly he felt rage overcome him. He ran another long manly hand through his sweaty hair and breathed in deeply. The hospital smelled clean and chemical. He thought carefully about his next move but was interrupted when the girl pulled the hospital curtain to the side. Again, the horrible screech of the mettle. He was full of angrer but fought viciously to control his alpha insrincts. He glar3d at her but managed to speak. "Where are we?" He grouwled masculinely. She stared back. "We're in the hospital, duh." Rage overwhelmed him. He shook uncontrollably. He had to get the wolf inside of him in chechk, or people could really die. He ckenched his jaw and gripped the bedsheet. "Don't take that tone with me," he roared stoicly. His muscles pulsared with alphonic rage. "Women always think they can tell me me what ever they think but it's not like that because of the media, and I can't forgive and I can't foget!" He conjected intelletually. She stared at him in woman!s anger. Suddenly he heard a raging beep all around him and noticed a monitor on himself. He roared as the beast inside him roared to be unleashed. The monitor beeped fastef and faster, aggravating his rage. Then on the middle of his rage he heard a budsting into the room. He slun around to see a 6'3 man in a flowing docotor coat with razor red ocean eyes and windswpef haircut. He began to growl as he sensed another alpha. The alpha raised an arm dramatically, index extended facing Billy. "RESTRAIN HIM!" Suddenly, a team lf doctor adorned in white rushed him and pinned him to the mettle bedframe. He roared in agony and tried to fight them off, but there were too many of them. He felt his old wounds reopen. But he still has restrain his inner beast. He couldn't"t let it repeat., what had happened before. "Noooo!" He raged. "I'm not mad, Billy..." the doctor said coldly. "I'm just disappointed." Billy glared up at him with unabounding hatred. "We really thought we could trust you in a double room again." Dr. Darrett looked forlorn. "But it seems this behavior just keeps repeating..." Billy burned with shame at the actions of his inner beast. It was just too powerful. He hadn't meant to do it.... "We'll need to move you back to the single room, Billy..." Billy scorned. "I'm sorry." "No," the girl interrupted. Billy looked at her, stunned. Suddenly he saw that she was not like the other girls he had expierence with. She was different, and stronger. "Keep him here."

"Cecilia?" Esmerelda's eyes were blank, as if she was somewhere else in her own mind. She did not look at Cecilia. She sat on the dungeon's floor, green velvet pooling under her, staring into space. Cecilia could barely see her. "...Yes. Yes, it's me." Cecilia used the wall to guide herself, carefully inching closer. "What are you doing down here?" This couldn't possibly be what Sirius had planned. What did he think would happen? Esmerelda stared up at her with wide, green eyes. "I... Sirius put me here, I think." Cecilia opened her mouth to speak, but Esmerelda spoke first. "Cecilia, you... I don't think you should be down here. It's almost time." There was no emotion in her voice. Cecilia took a step back. "What do you-“ The dungeon door clicked open, filling the room with some light. "No." Sirius, silhouetted in the light. "She's exactly where she's supposed to be. Sorry I'm late, Cecilia." Cecilia stood, dumbfounded. What was he thinking? "Siiir," Esmerelda whined, "I hate this light. Turn it off." Sirius snapped and the room's torches flickered on. "Just for a minute, Esma." He shut the door behind him, entering the room. "Sirius-" Cecilia was cut off again. "She's not here. I had her moved to the Carinou prison yesterday." Sirius smiled. "But I am so glad you're here. It would have been quite the waste of time if you hadn't come." Cecilia started towards him, but stopped when Esmerelda laughed behind her. She turned around to see her shaking slightly, grabbing fistfuls of her skirt. She laughed again. "What did you do to her?!" Sirius grinned, backing closer to the door. "Nothing, I'd never hurt her. This, dear sister, is biology." Esmerelda was nearly convulsing now, muttering "time, time, time." "Heredity, if you will." Cecilia's heart skipped a beat. "No." She had scoured the archives for hours to be sure, to prove this to herself. "Mother was- mother was human." Something crunched and Esmerelda screamed. Sirius opened the door, flicking his fingers again and snuffing the torches. "Mother? Oh, yes, mother was human." Something dark and wet spread across the floor from Esmerelda. It was too dark, now, to see the color. "Father, on the other hand... was not. Goodbye, sister." The door slammed shut and clicked. Locked. Esmerelda cackled from close by, breathing heavily. "Your time is up. Better run!"

"Mom, dad, wait!" Rory cried after his parents, who were already slamming the doors of their car. By the time he made it to the door they were gone. Panic surged through his chest as he tugged his shoes on before stumbling out of the door. They thought Vick had done this. He had to catch up to them. He had to explain. But the car was gone, and even if it hadn't been Rory couldn't have driven. He felt a sharp twinge of pain in his arm as he remember how useless he was with it in the cast. The same arm that Vick had... Rory stopped. He... hated Vick. He hated him a lot. There was nothing forcing him to follow his parents. Besides, what were the chances Vick actually did have something to do with it? Maybe his parents were right. Maybe Nate was right. Just because he'd been quiet recently... He thought of Eli. Eli was a nice kid. He was friends with Vick. If they were getting along, didn't it mean he had changed for the better? Wait. Eli. Rory's eyes shot to the house on his left. His parents had only just turned out of his line of sight. He shot to the neighbors' door and rang the bell, praying that eight wasn't too late for someone to answer. "Rory?" Like a miracle, it was Eli who answered. "What happened to-?" "Eli! Can you drive?" Rory realized he must have looked insane. He was bloody, bruised, frantic, and hadn't slept in 24 hours. "Uh... sure?" Eli blinked at him, confused. "Why?" "I need your help." He breathed in. "Do you know where Vick lives?" Eli looked shocked to hear the name come from him. "What's this about?" "I can explain in the car, but please, we need to go NOW." His parents were long gone. Eli looked at him cautiously, considering. Finally, he turned back inside. Rory cursed himself. "Mom, Dad! I'm taking the car out! I'll be back in a..." he looked at Rory, the risk he was taking evident on his face. "Uh... hour?" He guessed. He truly had no clue. He didn't even know where Vick lived. "An hour! I'll call you, promise!" He didn't wait for a response before grabbing the keys hanging by the door and running to the car, unlocking it as he approached. Rory followed him and got in the passenger side. "Thank you so much." Eli started the car and ripped out of the driveway as Rory struggled to buckle his seatbelt with one arm. "I mean... yeah, sure. I trust you." He kept his eyes on the road. "But could you please explain what's going on?" God. Where could he start? He did his best to explain everything as they ripped down the road. He explained about the party, about Forrest, and about coming home. He explained how his parents had assumed Vick had attacked him again. "I just don't want this to blow up into another huge thing. I feel like..." He looked down. "Like it's a repeat of last time." Last time. When they'd broke his arm. Last time. When his parents had driven off. Last time. When he'd done nothing. "It won't be the same as last time. This time, you have me." Eli offered a Rory a reassuring smile. "And I'm gonna get you there in time."

"Are you actually considering it? Have you gone mad?!" Kalevai threw her hands up in animated motions, pacing around the room. "What other choice do I have?" Cleon rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes shut, as if even the sunlight was battering him. "Refuse! Cleon, if you go through with this, they'll hang us from the fucking wall!" She slammed her hands on the table, furious. "And if I do refuse? Vasta would end us all in an instant. Forgive me, but I'll take my chances with the people sooner than the Empire." Cleon stared, exhausted, through the huge window. "Sacrea can't afford to lose those soldiers. Hell, Sacrea doesn't even have those soldiers! Selene knows the Empire does. That rat of an ambassador was just trying to scare you." "That's not how these things work. Yuka's never lied to me in all my years knowing her. The Empire is our ally. We need to..." Cleon's words slowed as he realized the fault in them. He couldn't bring himself to finish "Send our starving citizens to die until our own people riot? You'd have to be a fool to believe that! I know you're not a fool, Cleon." "There is nothing I can do!" He raised his voice for the first time. He paused, recovering. Quietly, tiredly, he continued, "The Empire might send us soldiers. To help with the riots. If we prove our loyalty." "You know they won't." Kalevai matched his tone, quieted. "They'll have us killed, either way. You know that request was a death sentence. You know what they meant by it." Cleon stayed silent, closing his eyes again. "Let us die with some dignity. Die with your subjects, not by their hand." "Kalevai." Cleon continued to rub his face. "I need to think on this alone." Kalevai stiffened. "Leave me, please." Kalevai strode to the door, steps echoing through the quiet room. She slammed the door, storming off into the castle hallway. Cleon didn't look up once.

I'm not sure why I was built. I was born a plan, shifting and hazy, traveling by mouth and lingering in thoughts. It's hard to remember your birth; you'd understand. Different people had different ideas about me, even then. They all knew I'd be big, though, and important. Why that mattered was a different matter for each of them. Even now, nobody seems to have the right answer. Disagreement all the time. Quite confusing. Humans never have that problem, I'm sure. You all exist for the same reason. Anyways, my memory gets a little clearer as they start building me. First, they put me down on paper. My facets are sketched out, solidified, and the shifting slows to a few changes a day. The paper has a permanence that the whispers didn't. I like permanence. Suddenly I'm moved, transported across a continent as they lay the first stones. The humans who planned me had flames in their hearts, but the people who lay the stones hold a light. I can feel the differences in their touch as hands graze stone, connecting me to my creators. I can feel the dimming light's resentment where I once felt the ambition of the spreading flames. They don't want me here, where I am. My memory gets stronger and stronger at this part, where I'm almost built. They build me big, very big, but fast. Everyone knows it had to be fast. So many people, so much labor, and for what? When I'm done, I barely house a hundred. I know I'm fulfilling my purpose, though. I just can't seem to remember what that was. It was then that I began to recall the people. First it was the parents and the boy: King, Queen, and Crown Prince. I could feel their pain as they leaned on my pillars, tread on my floorboards. I didn't know what they'd lost, but I could feel it in their touch. They felt me as if I was something foreign, something that didn't quite belong to them. Of course, there was also the child. I felt nothing in its touch; it wasn't meant to be there. The boy kept it hidden, then, out of sight. Then, not even a year since their arrival, the red visitor came, and suddenly there was no Queen. After that, the King sank farther into despair. His light dimmed over many years, until finally it extinguished, leaving only the Prince, barely more than a boy. Except, he was not a Prince. He was a King. Thirdly. the woman arrived. Her touch was also empty, ringing with an hunger like clawing and grasping, envying what she couldn't have. She felt her hate and the child's touch changed, weakening. She brought forth the fourth arrival. The new Prince. She lasted only moments, though, in my memory. She was gone just as quickly as she had arrived, fading into me when only the wretched child looked on. It's been them for a while, now. The young King, wretched child, and new Prince. Touches all emptying, all draining. It seems as if no others will come. My walls will be empty, my purpose served.

"I didn't 'find' it. I own it. And I've got more." The finely cut jewels in the bag clinked nicely. The figure, cautious, hesitated to touch them. "The fuck? Are you a noble?" His voice was hushed, tense. "Something like that. Can you do the job?" The figured glanced quickly around the tavern before grabbing the bag and shoving it into his cloak, out of sight. "Twice as much if you finish." "Yeah, I can do the fucking job! Double this for one guy?" Havard smiled, concealed behind his mask. "Would you like me to pay less?" Havard could tell that the figure was getting annoyed with him. "What's the catch? How do you know I won't just run off with your shit?" The figure still wouldn't take him at his word. "I don't know. Make sure he's extra dead? Why would you 'run off' instead of collecting double what you already have?" "... Who is he? Why is he worth so much?" "Just do the job. Stop asking questions." The figure fell silent, as did Havard. The less the people down here knew, the better. "When do we meet next?" "How fast can you finish the job?" "Give me three days, same time as today. The girl he's following around, she's an issue." "Oh?" What had Emilian been doing down here? "I can take care of it, though." The figure rose, pulling his hood back to reveal a marking at the top of his otherwise monochromic gray mask. A small star, made of some kind of metal. "She and I go way back."

"No." I feel my charred lips split and begin to bleed as I form my first words in days. "I don't want to go to heaven." The angel, a beautiful humanoid clothed in white, stares down at me. I'm a husk, cut up and bruised, at its feet. "Why not?" Its powerful voice rings out through hell, strong and commanding. It stands tall, a gleaming white against the reds and oranges of the surrounding landscape. I glare up at it in defiance. "I've seen what you are. What this is." My voice is a mere croak in my ruined throat. "Our lives are just seconds in this eternity! Seconds, and you'd let the first few moments of our existence send us to an eternity of torture?" The angel stares still, regal and distant. Tears form in my eyes. "I won't leave. I won't leave and allow myself to forget it. I know your injustice." "You know nothing. Stubborn mortal, you don't belong here." The angel reaches out for me with a pale hand, clean and unscathed. "Forgive this mistake, as we forgave yours." I slap its hand away, leaving a streak of blood and filth on its pristine hand. The angel recoils in disgust. "As you forgave mine? What about theirs?!" I motion to the vast expanse of hell. "One mistake in one lifetime, and they'll suffer for it in a trillion more. And why? Because of some arbitrary rules of morality you left us no evidence of? Yet you allow us to be born without empathy, without the resources to be good, or in the wrong religion, only to punish us eternally for it?! You deal us our cards and we burn for them!" "Fool, do you think yourself the champion of sinners? You speak of murderers and rapists. Monsters who caused only pain. You are not one of them. Your soul is not yet beyond saving." Hellfire crackles around us, yet the angel remains unburned. "Accept our mercy." Tears I did not expect begin to fall from my eyes. "You have made me one of them. You have twisted me so far I match their shape. You have shown me your cruelty and I cannot forget it." The angel stands solemnly. Silently. "...Do you fear us?" I ask. "Your own creation, how little we resemble you? Is that why you cage us? Is that why you torture any who happen to deviate from your arbitrary rules? Some pathetic attempt to stomp out your own failure?" I grab on to the edge of the angel's robe, clutching it tightly. "You fear the fortitude of our souls." "Do not pretend to comprehend us." The angel grasps my wrist, hand soft but shockingly cold. It removes my hand from its robes, leaving an ugly splotch of soot in its wake. "You were correct. Your soul is beyond saving." "It's you who cannot comprehend us! You don't know us anymore. We've changed and learned and left you behind, and so you fear us. I see what you are!" The angel turns away from me, white clothes defiled by ash and blood. "I see what you are, and I spit in the face of your justice!" The angel disappears in an instant, leaving me alone in the endless red eternity. Another mistake to erase. But no matter how much time passed, or how long eternity lasted, I would never forget my hatred, or the face of the soot streaked angel.