“How do you do it?” He looked startled. “Do what?” “Just…create. Something out of nothing. There aren’t many people who can do that, you know. Gods, parents, and artists.” “Poetic” Alex laughed quietly, and he joined her. But it slowly faded into a frown. “I’ve always thought it had to do with feeling. Empathy, you know? And an unhealthy love for story.” Ty winced. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about all this.” “I asked,” Alex said. “And I like it.” Ty shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t write anymore.” Alex started at that, trying to sit up. Her arm gave out and she fell back into bed, stifling a groan. Ty leaned forward immediately. “What can I—”  “Just talk,” Alex said. “Why did you stop writing?” He swallowed. It pained Alex to know that she was hurting him—a silly paradox, since it was her pain that hurt him—but there was nothing to be done. Everyone was helpless against disease. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “It just sort of happened. One day I could write, and the next day it was gone.” “Gone?” Ty shrugged. “I didn’t—I mean, I used to write short stories. Poems. That sort of thing. And they were good. Not perfect or anything, but good.” He smiled faintly, his eyes focused on something distant and strange. Alex’s heart lightened to see him smile. “I had friends who loved them. People who’d read everything I wrote and tell me how amazing it was, how it made them feel. You hear about writer’s block, but I don’t think that’s what it was.” Alex leaned back, her eyes fluttering closed as her exhaustion took hold. “I’m still listening,” she murmured. “Keep talking. What was it?” Ty’s voice floated above her. She focused on it, forcing it to be more important than her headache.  “I haven’t thought about it as much as I should have. I still love story in all its forms, but I never have time for it anymore. So that’s probably part of it. But the main thing, I think, is that I lost that empathy.” Alex heard Ty take a deep breath. “You remember that my grandma died last year.” “Mm-hmm.” “I never cried for her. It wasn’t even me being tough or anything; I just…never felt sad.”  Alex’s eyes fluttered open. “Didn’t you love her?” “Of course!” Ty glanced away. “I’ve never told anyone this. It’s so hard to explain. I loved her so much—still do—but she was always so distant. I mean, she lived a full six hours away. Her dying didn’t really change my life that much. And—well, I know you aren’t religious. But I’ve always known that I’d see her again, and it didn’t really matter. I don’t know if that’s cruel, but it’s what I felt. What I still feel.” Ty broke off sharply, his mortification filling the silence. “I—sorry—that was stupid—” Alex glared up at him. “It wasn’t,” she said firmly. “I’m not going to die.” Ty nodded, but he still looked heartbroken. “I’m _not. _Just you wait. And as soon as I’m better, I’ll hit you around for thinking that.” “Right,” Ty said. Alex let out a breath. “So you weren’t sad. It’s a strange religion, one that doesn’t let you mourn your family.” Ty winced. “No, it’s…” he let out a huff of air. “I’m explaining it all wrong. It isn’t that my God won’t let me mourn. It’s more that…He lets me not have to. That’s not it either. I think it’s less about Him and more about me. I have this disconnect with my emotions, Alex. I can talk myself out of—or into—most feelings.” “How do you talk yourself into a feeling?” Alex laughed, then immediately regretted it.  “I know my triggers,” Ty said. “I know what will make me miserable, and I focus on it. It used to be that I could do that for other people too. I’d tell myself their stories in my head, imagine all of it, and then it would just…bleed out of me and onto the page.” Alex nodded, allowing the silence to spread. The fan above her rattled, and she could hear cars outside the window. Cars with people, and people with stories. Where had they come from, and where were they going? Which ones were hurting, and which ones were celebrating? Alex found herself hit with a wave of nausea as she tried to picture it all. Every person in the entire world, each with a story of their own.  “It desensitizes you,” she realized. “Feeling for every person burns you out.” “That’s a good way of putting it.” Alex frowned. “Is it better, feeling nothing? No more hurt, right?” She watched Ty closely, but the light above him cast his face into shadow. She could barely make out his eyes.  “No.” The word was nearly a whisper. “The tears are worth it, because they give you stories to tell. Stories you couldn’t tell, if you’d never felt that pain.” Alex blinked up at him. She’d never seen him this vulnerable before. “There’s a power in that,” she said thoughtfully. “In staying outside the emotion, but still feeling it.” Ty smiled, and a kind of understanding passed between them. “I’ll let you rest,” he said. “You’ll be better before we know it.” Alex nodded tiredly. “Thank you,” she said as she drifted off. “For talking.”

“Have you heard the story of the moons?”  Dare groaned, lying back on the mat and pulling the blanket over his head. “I don’t want some story!” Sim yanked the blanket off, turning to face the healer. “I haven’t.” Dare sat up. “How have you not?” Sim glared at him until he broke eye contact. The healer laughed softly. “Do you mind if I tell it, then?” Sim nodded eagerly, and Dare sighed. “Fine.” The healer smiled and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they’d turned a vibrant blue, so different from the milky white they’d been only a moment before. “In the earliest days, this world had only one moon. The cruel Kiyeeng, lord of the heavens.” “You mixed it up,” Dare interrupted. “Galia came first.”  The healer turned her gaze on him, and he withered. “Darren.” “I said not to call me that,” he muttered. “And anyway, I’m right. Galia came first, and was rescued by Kiyeeng, who was kind and–” He cut off as Sim’s hand came down hard on his head. “Let her tell the story!” Sim hissed. Dare crossed his arms. “She’s telling it wrong.” “I would advise you,” the healer said quietly, “to listen. If you would rather not, I can send you back outside to fend for yourselves.” Dare was quiet after that.

Kiyeeng, the golden moon, ruled the night sky. He reveled in the prayers of mortals. The smoke of their burnt offerings was his wine, their cities his feast. Each night, he passed over the world and smiled. He lived like a god, and even if he was one it was a mistake. He would grow angry and jealous at even the slightest hint of disrespect. When he first saw a temple to the sun, he raged for months. He took control of the seas and sent towering waves against the cities he perceived as rebellious. Sailors perished as hundreds of ships were lost to his fury. In desperation, the mortals built him grand monuments. They vowed to serve him, to never turn away again. They had festivals in the nights so that Kiyeeng could watch them. Finally he was satisfied, and the seas calmed. But he did not see that during the day, the people were begging the fiery sun, Tenyin, for help. And he heard them. So Tenyin set a cunning trap for Kiyeeng. His dear sister Galia ruled the stars. She was quiet and pure. Her light was subtle and healing, and always second to that of Kiyeeng. In fact, the stars could only be seen when Kiyeeng disappeared fully. But Galia didn’t mind. She drew her power from the night. She was the patroness of second sons and forgotten daughters. She was kind and noble; the only thing she truly hated was Kiyeeng.

“This isn’t right!” Dare blurted. “Tenyin is the villain who tries to keep Galia and Kiyeeng apart!” Again, the healer turned her gaze to him. He blushed, but his anger didn’t leave. There was a way of things. People shouldn’t twist stories like this, changing what was right and wrong. “What happened next?” Sim asked impatiently. 

Tenyin asked his dear sister for her help in defeating Kiyeeng, and she agreed. For Galia loved the mortals in a way that the sun and moon could not, and it broke her heart to watch Kiyeeng torment them. Tenyin proposed that Galia woo Kiyeeng. Once the moon was in love, she would convince him to lend her some of his power. And then she would use it for good, and he would be left powerless to harm the mortals she loved. _What Tenyin and Galia did not count on was how well his plan would work. Kiyeeng, for all his power and glory, was desperately lonely. And Galia was dangerously beautiful. _ “What powerful light you have,” Galia said. “I’m not frightened of the darkness with you here.” Kiyeeng smiled and put his arm around her waist. “Would you like to see the land the way I see it?” _Galia agreed, and so it was that they spent the first night together. Despite it all, she was awed. The mortals’ fires seemed to mirror her own stars, and each city was more beautiful than the last. But Galia wasn’t the only one who was dazzled. With each passing moment, Kiyeeng grew more and more in love. _ “You are more beautiful than all the treasures of the earth,” he told her. “I would dim my own light so that yours can be better seen.” _Galia laughed, fluttering her lashes and telling him that she wished she were a moon, so that she could be with him always. He responded that there was a way, but it would weaken him greatly. _ Cunningly, Galia wove her fingers through his. “You’re so powerful,” she breathed. “Even weakened, you’re much stronger than any other god.” _Kiyeeng lost himself in her eyes. She was perfect. “We will rule the night together,” he declared. _ So it was that there came to be two moons. Galia joined him in the sky, smaller and paler but just as bright. They passed each night together, and Kiyeeng grew more and more entranced. He stopped noticing the mortals and began searching for new delights to show Galia. She, in turn, began to care for him. But she never forgot what he’d done, and she never forgave him. _One evening, she asked him about the oceans. If she could try controlling the waves, just for a moment. Hesitantly, Kiyeeng passed control to her. Her delighted giggles were enough for him to name her queen of the waters. The sea was hers. _ _Now that his power over the earth was gone, she went to Tenyin, eager to return to the stars. But Kiyeeng caught her. _ “Where are you going?” He demanded. “To visit my brother,” Galia said sweetly. “Is that so wrong?” “Yes.” Kiyeeng’s temper had slumbered for months, but the idea of losing Galia, even for one night, brought it back tenfold. “He is my enemy, and you must choose to serve him or me.” “Then I choose him. He is good and honorable, and provides the people with heat and safety. You are nothing but a beast, or maybe a child.” Galia turned to go. Her duty was finished, and she was not needlessly cruel. She would leave him, and the mortals would design their own fates. Kiyeeng’s cold laughter stopped her. “You lied to me,” he sneered. Galia turned back. “Yes,” she said simply. _“I still love you.” _ The words took Galia by surprise, and she blinked. She’d seen mortals do it when they were confused, you see. “That He changes nothing.” “Not yet,” Kiyeeng said. “But it will. You see, only a moon can control the tides. If you return to the stars, my power will return to me.” He stepped closer until his golden eyes were only inches from her silver ones. “And when it does, I will destroy every creature that lives on this planet. They will all die, and it will be your fault.” Galia froze, and Kiyeeng grinned darkly. “So. Will you be coming home with me?” Silently, Galia followed him back, turning only once to look towards the dawn. To this day, she passes through the sky with Kiyeeng. But she refuses to walk next to him, which is why she lags so far behind. Every morning, Kiyeeng says two words to her. “Choose me.” And every morning… “No.” He beats her through the day so that every evening she no longer shines pure and silver but deep scarlet. Her blood lights the darkness, and she takes comfort in the knowledge that her pain protects us. And that is how we came to have two moons, the villainous Kiyeeng and the heroine Galia.

Dare spoke first. “So Kiyeeng was the monster all along, huh? It’s one of those, ‘don’t let greed control you’ stories?” Sim shook his head. “No.” He met the healer’s eyes. “It’s forgiveness, isn’t it? If Galia had let Kiyeeng change, had forgiven him and accepted that he could be more than a monster, she would have had a happy ending.” The healer smiled, and her eyes faded to white. “But what if he didn’t change, and the mortals’ suffered because of it?” “But he had changed, hadn’t he?” “I’ll tell you a secret,” the healer said, chuckling as Dare and Sim leaned in. “If a story is true, there are no right choices.”

“You killed him,” Seira said weakly, feeling as if she might vomit again. “I did what I had to do,” Ten said harshly. She pulled Seira after her. “Come on. Are you going to throw up?” “I—” “Don’t do it off the roof. You never know who it’ll land on.” Seira swallowed. “I’m fine.” “Good.” Ten glanced back, and something in Seira’s face must have convinced her of the lie. She sighed. “We can stop up here.” She hopped nimbly up to a higher roof. When Seira didn’t follow, she reached down and offered her hand. Seira took it.  She stood on the roof, taking several shuddering breaths. “You killed him,” she repeated. “It had to happen.” Ten met her eyes and sighed. “You don’t get it. Your corner of the world is too pretty for you to get it.” Seira shuddered. “You’re a murderer.” “Yeah. Well.” Ten was avoiding her gaze. “Sometimes that’s what we have to be.” Seira shook her head, looking at her sister with a new understanding. “No,” she said, nearly a shriek. “No, we don’t!” “Listen,” Ten snarled. “You got to choose. I didn’t. So you can stop whining—” “It isn’t whining! He was a _person, _and you killed him, and who knows how many others!” “I never had a choice—“ “And I never wanted one!” Seira glared at the other girl, eyes glittering with tears. “Right,” Ten said, laughing darkly. “Right, you’d give up your palaces and your schools and your _family _for _my _life.” “I would!” Seira gritted her teeth, hating the voice in the back of her mind that whispered her mother’s words to her. _Speak logically. Come back when you aren’t angry. __Shut up! _“I would give it all, Ten, because look what it made you!” “I never wanted this!” Ten gestured at her raggedy clothes, the scar curled from her ear down to her collarbone, the purple hair that had never been forced into a bun. “I never wanted to become this.” “But you did.” Seira looked away from her, down to the dark streets below. “You’re more than I will ever be, and you never even had to want it.” “You don’t know anything about what I want,” Ten started, but Seira cut her off with a high, wild laugh. “And you don’t know anything about want!” Abruptly, Seira swung at her, and Ten caught her hand. Seira aimed her elbow towards Ten’s stomach, but her sister shoved her back easily. “What are you doing?” Seira didn’t answer. She panted for breath, kicking low at Ten’s knee. Ten danced back, eying her warily. Each of her movements was lithe and precise. “Do you see it?” Seira seethed. “Do you see it now?” “See what? You’re making no sense, Sei.” “You’re broken,” Seira spat. “But look what you’re worth.” Ten blinked, shaking her head in incredulity. “_That’s _what this is about? Please. You don’t even know what it means to be broken.” “Of course I—” “No.” Ten’s tone darkened, twisted into something frightening. Something that would not conceive the idea of being controlled. “No, you don’t. You haven’t been there. While you were trying on dresses, I was stealing food to survive. Not to be comfortable. To _survive. _I looked death in the face every day, and I had to choose _every day _to keep living.” Ten shook her head.  “You can’t ever understand. You can’t know what it is to watch everyone you’ve loved die and be told it’s your fault. You’ve never sat in a cell and watched your world crumble while you could do _nothing _to stop it. You’ve never torn at your hair or punched a wall until your fists bled.” Ten stopped, chest heaving. Seira’s face displayed something between triumph and horror. She could feel her heart pounding, could feel bile rising in her throat.  She forced it down. “You do see, then.”  “Just say what you mean,” Ten snapped tiredly.  “You know those things. You _understand _them. You can fight. You can survive. You have a power I never will because you never had to choose!” The tears wanted to fall. Seira refused to let them.  “Me?” Ten scoffed, a piece of loose hair so dark a purple it was nearly black falling over her eye. “Please. People like me can’t change anything. We just have to wait for people like _you _to clean up the mess that we are. You’re everything I could’ve been if I didn’t get stuck in this dump.” “You aren’t listening,” Seira said. The fight had drained out of her. “I can’t _do _anything. I had too many options. I had everything. So I’ve become nothing. _You’re _everything _I _could’ve been if-if I were here.” Ten sat down next to her. “You think you’re redundant.” Seira shrugged. “The world doesn’t need another person like me. It could stand to have a few more like you.” Ten was quiet for a long moment. “There’s a lot you don’t see, you know. About what’s inside. I’d give anything to be as-as carefree as you.” “Carefree?” Seira laughed. But when she looked over at Ten, her sister was frowning.  “Have you ever taken a life, Seira?” Seira stiffened. “What you did today…” “Have you ever taken a life, Seira?” “No,” Seira whispered, suddenly feeling very small. “It changes you,” Ten said. “Everyone says that, but you don’t realize it until you’ve actually done it. And then you do it again, and again, and again.” She met Seira’s eyes, her own dark and haunted. “You know it’s bad once you stop counting.” Ten laughed. “Maybe the way rich people break is different. Maybe you turn into heroes. Maybe, in your world, it’s beautiful. “But somehow, I don’t think it is. It’s an ugly thing, Sei. Hearts don’t crack and heal nice and easy like bones. They splinter. They shatter. They get infected. And maybe you can fix it, but it’s never going back to how it was. Pieces get lost, and what’s left is a mess, held together by glue and string and sheet will. It never stops hurting, not really.” Ten wasn’t looking at Seira anymore but out into the darkness. In the city proper, it would be filled with light. Here, there were only scattered fires, not quite enough to chase off the chill. “It’s the things you don’t see that really get you. The things they won’t tell you in any of their fairytales. It’s the days and nights and days and nights that pass in a blur as you try to remember how to move on. It’s the friends you didn’t realize you needed until they’re dead. It’s know that you are, and always will be, broken beyond repair.” “I…” Seira’s throat stuck. She cleared it, trying again. “I’m sorry.” Ten snorted, her mouth curving into a wry grin. “Sorry doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change how many years of my life are gone, and it doesn’t change what you did.” “I know,” Seira murmured miserably. “I didn’t—I didn’t know it was you.” Ten shrugged. “You were doing your job.” “And it ruined your life!” “Can’t ruin what’s worth nothing.” Seira winced, and Ten set a hand on her knee. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. That won’t help anyone. I got out, didn’t I?” Again, her mouth twisted into that same gentle smirk. “I take care of myself.” Seira nodded. She watched the city for a long, long moment. From above, it looked like everything she’d imagined. But she’d walked those streets, now. She’d heard the screams and seen the bloodstains. Ten was right. This place was as ugly as a shattered heart.  One of the fires flared up, and Seira shivered. “Do you have the nightmares?” She asked quietly. Ten stirred. “I—used to.” “I still have them,” Seira said. _You don’t have to be the strongest, _her mother’s voice chided. _You’re exactly what you need to be, right where you’re at. __You aren’t helping. _“They’re not as bad anymore. I used to wake up screaming.” “Me too,” Ten said. To Seira, it looked as if she were leaving out a part of the story. A part of it that would remind Seira just how much less she was than the sister who’d once been a perfect mirror of herself. She ignored the thought. “I thought I could feel my skin blistering. I heard them screaming. Our—our parents. They were dying. They begged me to save them, but I was being pulled out, and I couldn’t bring myself to go back in. They were still inside. You were too. I thought you were dead. For all those years.” Ten met her eyes. “I saw them take you. I was so glad you’d survived. That helped, on the worst days. To know that you were out there, living the life I never could.” Seira let out a long, quiet sigh. “What do I do now, Ten?” “I suppose,” Ten said quietly, “that you have a choice to make.” Every muscle in Seira’s body seemed to tense at once. “I don’t want—” “I know! I know. But there’s always a choice, whether you like it or not.” She smiled sadly. “You talk about my path as if it’s been straight and easy to follow. I still make choices, sister, just different ones. I choose to be alive. I choose not to listen to the laughter in my head. Even in prison, even when they try to take away every option you have. I always have a choice, Seira, and so I will _never _be powerless again. Choice is power, not punishment.” She paused. Cocked her head. Brushed away loose strands of hair. “So I guess it’s up to you. What do you want?” Seira shook her head in awe. “How did you get to be so wise?” _Why not me? Why am I always behind everyone, even my own twin sister? _Learn from everyone you can, dar—_shut up shut up shut up! _Ten raised an eyebrow, and Seira pursed her lips. “I want to be skilled. To be worth something.” You don’t need talent to matter. I’ll love you no matter what. “That’s a start,” Ten said. “Use that. Build it into a fire and burn.” Seira nodded, but suddenly Ten wasn’t looking at her anymore. She was glancing behind them, towards the city proper. Before Seira even realized she’d moved, the scarred girl was on her feet. “We have to get you back. Now.” “Why?” Seira stood up, eyes wide and alert. “What’s happening?” “Shields,” Ten replied. “A lot of them. And they still think I, ah, kidnapped you.” “What?” “It’s a long story. Come on.” Ten leaned back, falling into the air over the side of the building. Seira’s breath caught in her throat. Then Ten’s head popped back up. “Right,” she said. “There’s, um, a ladder on the other side, if you want it.” Flushing, Seira crossed the building and began climbing down onto a lower roof. By the time she was down, Ten was already there. They crossed carefully. More than once, Ten pointed to the street below, where Seira could hear Shields marching. The return was quicker than Seira expected; before she knew it, they were in the foliage of a tree just outside her family’s estate.  Ten grabbed her arm. “Hey,” she said. “Live for me, okay? Fall in love. Have a family. Relish each moment.” Seira snorted. “While you’re out there fighting? Please.” She felt a warm smirk fall into place. A mirror of Ten’s, only one without scars running through it like cracks in once perfect glass. “I think it’s about time someone cleaned up your messes.” Ten laughed. “I’ll be waiting. Be safe.” Before Seira had a chance to answer, Ten was gone. Disappeared into the night. Seira shrugged and made her way awkwardly down the tree. Choice was power, she reminded herself. Choice was power.

“The haart,” Professor Linset crooned, “is a strange and rare creature. I doubt that you have ever seen one.” He stepped up to a large cage as he lectured. In its center was what seemed to be a ball made of solid black stone. “No other creature is as strong. And yet no other creature can break so easily. Would you like a demonstration?”  Without waiting for an answer, he moved closer to the cage. He bent down, and when he stood he was holding a sword. “This,” he said, “is one of the most deadly weapons that can be made today.” He slid it through the bars, then slammed it down on the poor creature. The haart didn’t even seem to notice as the blade clanged off its skin. The professor hit it again, stabbed at it, smacked it. Finally, his point proven, he set the weapon aside.  “This haart is strong. If it dies, it will be its own fault. Ah, ah, but we’ll get to that in a moment.” The man smiled and moved across the stage to another cage, this one covered by a large cloth. He pulled it free. The creature inside was small, white, and smooth. It looked almost like a snake, only it was wider, shorter. Friendlier. “And this,” Professor Linset said gleefully, “is a haart as well. It’s younger. And it has been perfectly sheltered. Never hurt. Never broken.” In one smooth motion, he picked up the sword and slammed it through the cage, into the haart. Deep crimson blood flowed from the wound as the animal collapsed, lifeless. “A haart that has never been broken is weak,” the professor said coolly, admiring the red as it dripped from the steel. “But hurt one too often, and the haart will die just the same.” He gestured at the first cage. “That creature will never open. It will never allow itself to be vulnerable. And so it will not eat, and it will not drink. It will die of thirst because it cannot allow itself to become weak for even a moment.” The professor spun on his heel, and for a moment it seemed as if he’d left. Then he returned, pushing a third cage. “And this is a haart in its prime.” This creature was also curled into a ball. But it was not so deep a black. And as the professor crooned to it, it began to tremble less. He stroked its back gently, and it hesitantly unfurled. “A mother haart is cruel to its offspring. She cannot protect them, for if she does, they will never survive once they leave her care. And she cannot hurt them too much, for then they will die just the same.  “She must teach them when to open, and when to close. They must learn who to let in, and who to keep out at all costs. If a young haart fails to learn, it will die. “And do you know what the most deadly thing that can happen to a haart is? It can be tricked. Betrayed. An open haart is utterly vulnerable, and if it opens for the wrong person…” He spun, slamming the sword into the final cage. The gray haart inside became a splatter of blood. He set down the sword and slowly stepped towards his audience, lifting the head of the young man who was tied to a chair. “I opened my heart to you, Dorian.” Dorian didn’t answer. He looked up at the professor through bleary eyes, then spat at him. Linset’s lip curled. “I’ve thought often of what I would do to you, when I found you.” Dorian glared at him. “If I could break your heart I would, but you’ve hardened it since I last saw you, and I am not patient enough to wait for it to starve on its own.” “So?” Dorian spoke for the first time. His voice was flat and emotionless. “Get to the point.” The professor’s eyes darkened. “I’ve been thinking,” he sneered, “that we ought to play a game.”  Dorian’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.” “There is _nothing _I wouldn’t do.” “Even to me?” _“Especially _to you.” “I won’t play,” Dorian warned. “I’ll die first.” “We’ll see,” the professor said. “You can be made to care.” “Kill me,” Dorian demanded, straining against his ropes. He didn't seem to notice the way they dug into his skin. “Right here, right now.” Linset raised a single eyebrow. “What’s this? My Dorian, begging?” “I’m not begging,” Dorian growled. “And I’m _not _yours.” “Aren’t you?” “I’m not,” Dorian said. His eyes were cooler and sharper than the steel of the professor’s blade. “And you’re too cowardly to kill me.” The professor surged forward in one smooth motion, knocking the chair backwards to the ground. Dorian grunted at the impact.  “I’m no coward,” Linset breathed. “Prove it.” Dorian’s eyes hadn’t softened. “Kill me.” Linset didn’t answer, instead tipping the chair back up. It was a sturdy wooden thing and hadn’t even chipped at the fall onto hard stone. “Death would be too kind for you.” “You’re scared,” Dorian snapped back, quick and sharp as a whip. “You can’t stand to watch me die.” “Please.” Linset snorted. “If I thought death would hurt you, I’d run you through now. Brother.” “I’m not your—” “Don’t lie to me!” There was a pause as both men took furious breaths. “You know who you are.” “I do.” Dorian was pulling harder now, his wrists beginning to bleed from the effort. Still, he was so blinded by anger that he couldn’t care about the pain. “And I was never your brother.” “Is that so?” Linset reached forward and dragged his finger around Dorian’s neck, following the deep scar of a noose that hadn’t quite finished its job. A scar that was mirrored around Linset’s own neck. “My scars tell my story,” Dorian said, meeting Linset’s eyes. “But they do not define me, and never have.” Linset scoffed. “You can’t escape your blood, Dori.” Dorian could have kept yelling. Could have told his long-forgotten brother not to use that nickname. He wanted to. But he was tired. And as he’d said, he was through with games. “I already have. Lin.” Then he let his chin fall back onto his chest, his hair falling forward to conceal his face. Linset kept yelling for what must have been hours, but Dorian refused to reply, and eventually the young professor left, promising to return with pain he wouldn’t be able to ignore. Dorian tried not to care, but if he was being honest with himself, he was terrified. Lin’s words haunted him far more than he wanted to admit. _A haart that has never been broken is weak. _But that didn’t make the breaking hurt any less. That hurt was the reason broken hearts were stronger; the scars, the calluses, the cruelty. It was how you stayed stronger than your opponent. I opened my heart to you, Dorian. He had. He well and truly had. He’d only told the truth; Dorian deserved everything that Lin would do to him. But he hadn’t lied either.  He knew who he was. And as terrible as his betrayals had been, they were justified. Dorian shook his head softly, glancing at the broken bodies of the haarts before him. Justice was cruel. It was cold. He’d lived by its principles long enough to see what it could do to a person. It was not a kind path to follow, and for the briefest of moments, Dorian doubted. He’d known this course was foolish. He’d known it would be hard.  But it had felt so _right. _ And just as he’d told Linset, he really had escaped his blood. He’d found a place where he was more than the scar around his neck. He’d found a family he chose. A family that would have helped him change, if these old people, these old strings, hadn’t started yanking on him. So what now? He was… He was home. He should have been dead, but of course Lin and the others would want vengeance. And although the Lin that Dorian knew and hated was often stupid, he was also one of the most intelligent men alive. If he wanted Dorian to hurt, Dorian would hurt. _Idiot. If you’d just stayed away. If you’d just learned when to harden your heart. _ But Dorian hadn’t learned. And when a young haart failed to learn, it died. Dorian squeezed his eyes shut, cool certainty weighing on him. He was going to die. Oh, they’d stretch it out as long as they could. But they’d tire of him sooner or later. And they’d kill him or leave him to rot, it made no difference.  Slowly, slowly, he grinned. They thought their hearts were cold and unbreakable. But Dorian understood things they could not imagine. Where they saw steel, he saw glass. And he intended to see it shatter, even if the shards that remained were sharp enough to slit his throat.

The scarlet blood On your pale skin Is dangerously beautiful Your lips Your arms Your neck My fingertips. 

I want it I want you I want  To feel you tremble As I Taste Your Blood.

I want To watch you Panic As you Finally Understand That I Will Destroy You.

I want To paint The glittering Rubies That drip Enticingly Onto The floor.

I want To bottle You And bring you Out When I Am most lonely.

I want you I am So Hungry And you Smell So Sweet.

But I Will hold on: If you Die today I cannot Taste you Tomorrow

So rest, My love, Be silent And let me Lick the red From your lips.

I like to feel you quiver. I like that you’re afraid. I like that you don’t fight.  I like the flavor of your tears Mixed With your blood.

Don’t move, Precious. My hands Are shaky And I’m so hungry That my razor Just Might Slip.

Be still, Darling I’ve licked you clean And I just Might Nibble.

You don’t need that finger, Do you? Or that one? You have So many Can’t I Have One?

I’m pulling Your hair How strange That it hurts. Are my fingers Cold On your Neck? Is that Why You scream So loud?

I’m trying To taste Your scream It isn’t As sweet As your blood.

I only want A little More Just one more Sip And then I’ll stop

Please, Love? Can’t I have One More Taste?

Oh, My darling. Oh, My dear. Oh, My.

When, My love, Does a man Become A monster?

Don’t speak, My love. I want your blood, Not your voice.

The red Is gone From your Pale skin The sun Comes up And I Must leave you To Its light

Enjoy your cage My precious. I’ll be back When the shadows Return.

I am trapped in a circus And I can’t get out. I am dancing to a tune I can no longer hear And the music is terrible And it hurts so badly And yet I cannot stop.

I blink, And the crowd is laughing, I blink again And the crowd is gone.  I look up And there is only darkness I look back And all the light has faded. 

There is a ring Around me A ring Or a stage And on the other side There are people Who do not Or cannot Care.

Now I am on  A merry-go-round A toy Of the circus And it spins So quickly.

The world Starts to blur A days and B days Mix together Rehearsals And homework And dreams Are inseparable And I’m spinning so quickly.

But now the spinning fades, And in its place Is a dangerous stillness And I am back in the ring But the crowd is not laughing And I cannot tell If I’m crying Or dancing. 

And look;  The crowd fades away The witnesses leave And cool metal Tightens  Around my wrists And neck.

I cannot move But I need to stand.  I cannot breathe But death is impossible.  I cannot break free For there is so much to do.

It grows so dark, When the tent Is quiet. The silence is deafening In a circus Without patrons And the performers Are monsters Which is why We are chained. 

But another day dawns, And the chains fade away: I cannot run With audience waiting Strings tug At my mouth Until I am smiling My mind Grows numb And the audience As one being Is awed.

The circus is spinning Faster And faster All fades away Into blurry routines Are we people Or are we machines

White fangs On red lips Deadly claws Caress your neck Welcome O stranger To the circus Of my dreams.

I am the creature you created to fulfill your most desperate wishes.

I am the hero who lives to slay the monster under your bed.

I am the one who loves you more than life itself, and always will.

I am your knight in shining armor.

I am your dearest friend.

I am your closest confidant.

And you are my everything.

I should be yours.

I SHOULD BE YOURS!

I live to love you, but you can’t seem to care for me.

Everything I have I give to you, and yet you expect me to sit quietly and watch you love all the people who aren’t me?

It would be easier if I could stop loving you. It would be easier if I could hate you for it. But I can’t help but love you. Despite it all, I can’t help but want you to see me as more than what I am.

I saw you laughing this morning. Surrounded by friends. It’s everything you ever wanted. And I was happy for you. I hated myself for it. I hated myself so much, because I need to hate someone and I can’t hate you. What a cruel child you were. You cried about monsters under the bed, but the real monster was the one under the covers. You made me from a piece of you, and you made me to care. Is there any worse pain than caring and caring in a world that refuses to admit I am here?

I can’t leave, either. Always by your side…it’s my duty. But you haven’t spoken to me in years. And when I speak, you don’t listen. So all I can do is follow, a ghost, a figment of something that once lived. A shell. A desperate bundle of emotions that is, and always will be, hopelessly alone.

I hope the years you spent loving me were worth it.

Because I will spend eternity wishing I never existed.

Annie sat at the edge of a cliff, kicking her feet contentedly. “Death?” She asked.

The tall figure standing at her shoulder stirred. “Yes?”

“What happens when I die?”

Death blinked. “What do you mean?”

Annie turned to face him, brow furrowed. “When people die, you send them on to the next life. And I’m going to die eventually. So…I’ll have to move on. And you’ll stay here.”

“Well…yes,” Death said. His voice was gravelly and hard to read, but Annie thought he sounded sad. She was good at telling how he felt.

“Then I won’t die for a long while,” the girl said, standing up happily. “I have to go now. Bye, Death!” Then she was gone, back in the world of the living.

Annie was crying. Death hadn’t known it was possible for a mortal to cry here, but Annie had spent more time here than almost any other mortal. He wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out.

“Annie?” He tried to sound gentle. It didn’t work. Somehow, though, she got it.

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

And though he had often been called heartless, something in his chest ached for the young girl. “You…you know I can’t, Annie.”

“Can’t I just stay here a little longer? Mom and Dad are screaming so lound. And it’s my fault. Maybe…maybe if I was gone, they’d be happier.” Annie looked up at him desperately. “I want them to be happy again.”

“No, no,” Death said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” she said firmly. “D-Dad told me so. He said that if I just had a normal heart, then we’d have enough money, and then Mom wouldn’t hate him, and-and-” she broke off, sniffling.

Slowly, Death sat down next to her, resting his scythe on the ground. He put an arm around her, and she fell into him, her crying getting louder. For a long minute, they just sat. Death didn’t try to promise that it would be okay. He’d been around too long to believe that, and he hated lying. “Did you know,” he finally said, “that most people hate me?”

Annie pulled back, dumbfounded. “Why do people hate you? You’re nice!”

Death’s mouth twitched, and he gestured at his black robe, his scythe, his pale face. “I’m Death.”

“That’s not fair! It’s not your fault people die.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t. But they hate me anyway. And they have normal hearts. If you had a normal heart, maybe you’d hate me too.” It wasn’t perfect logic, but it was pretty, and Annie was the young.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then I’m glad I don’t have a normal heart. And I’m never going to hate anyone.”

Death smiled. “I’m sure the world is better with you in it, Annie.”

Tears dry, Annie nodded, eyes glistening with determination. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Did you know,” Annie said, “that my teacher doesn’t get mad at me anymore? It’s annoying.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Annie made a face, and Death laughed. “Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it makes everyone else mad. Like, yesterday, I left my notebook at Dad’s house, and Mom wouldn’t let me go back to get it. And when I got into class, Mr. Flynn was yelling at Penny because she forgot her notebook. But he didn’t say anything to me, and now Penny hates me.”

“Ah…” Death nodded.

“But I don’t hate her,” Annie said, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Tomorrow, I’m going to bring her cookies. She likes oatmeal raisin ones the best, so I’ll make those ones.”

Death looked over at her. “You’re very wise, for a mortal.”

She winked at him. “I have a good teacher.” Then she frowned. “What do you mean, for a mortal?!”

Annie felt her heartrate slow, and she lay back in the grass, closing her eyes…and opened them in a world with black earth and a white sky. A moment later, a face that was nearly a skull appeared over hers. “Hi, Death,” she said.

“Hi, Annie,” he replied, mimicking her tone.

She laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“I probably do,” she conceded. “How’s the Between?”

“Same as always,” Death murmured. “How’s living?” His mouth twitched into a gentle smirk. “How’s Jason?”

Annie sat up sharply, flushing and throwing a handful of deep black sand at him. “Shut up,” she said, but there was no malice in it. She paused. “He’s just as cute as he was yesterday.”

Death nodded somberly. “You’ve been here a lot, going by human time.”

“Every day,” Annie said. “Sometimes twice a day. The doctors say it’s getting worse.” Her lip trembled and she clenched her teeth, refusing to let the tears spiol. “We’ve been meeting with the school counselors, talking about career paths and colleges, that sort of thing. They—they told me not to bother choosing a college. They said not to even worry about taking required classes, just to enjoy the time I have left. No one even expects me to graduate high school, Death.”

Death sat next to her. “Hold on. You’re so strong, Annie. If anyone can survive, it’s you.”

“Right,” Annie said sarcastically, “it’s not like being friends with Death himself gives me an advantage or anything.”

Death shrugged. “Guilty as charged…except that I’m not keeping you alive. Or killing you. I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Death is my babysitter…” She was still laughing as she faded from view, as the sky became blue rather than white, and the sound of sirens filled her ears.

Annie spun on her heel, searching. “Death!” She screamed. “Where are you?”

And then he was there. “Yes? What’s wrong?” He looked her over, worried. “Annie?”

Her chest heaved. “Sarah is dying.”

Death looked away.

“How long?” Annie demanded. “How long does she have?”

Death looked pained. Funny, how she’d once thought him hard to read. “I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” Annie snapped. “Can’t save her? I know that, and that’s why I’m not asking you to.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to know how long my friend has. Please, Death…” Death looked down. His hood covered his face with shadows, and with his scythe in the air he suddenly looked poised. Ready to attack. Annie took a step back. “Please.”

“I can’t tell you,” Death whispered.

For a moment, Annie wanted to yell. Her hands were trembling, her heart was pounding too fast (or it would have been, if she wasn’t in the Between), and her eyes were stinging. She saw, then, why her friend was somethint so many people hated. And then she took a breath, a promise made long ago returning to her mind.

“Okay,” she said, though the word broke her heart. “Okay. Can you…can you at least tell me if I’ll see her again?”

Death looked up, his hood falling back. “I’m not supposed to. But I will.” He locked eyes with Annie, then shook his head. “Not in your mortal life. I don’t know what’ll happen after.”

“Okay,” Annie said. “O-okay. I can-I can-“ and then her eyes filled with tears. “It isn’t fair,” she said. “I know that’s childish. But…it isn’t. She had so much to live for. She had a boyfriend, and plans, and…and why her, and not me?” Death watched her, listening intently. Annie flushed. “It’s just…my parents have been prepared for my death since I was four, and all my friends know that they’ll go to my funeral someday. But she could have lived.”

“I’m sorry,” Death said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I never realized it hurt so much.”

Annie’s cheeks were wet, and she scrubbed at them furiously. “It’s good that it hurts,” she said. “If it didn’t hurt, it would mean I didn’t care. But…” she exhaled softly. “How am I supposed to go on living without her?”

Death shook his head. Wordlessly, he pulled her into a hug and held her as she sobbed. “I can give her a message, if you’d like,” he finally murmured. “Nothing long. But something.”

“Oh, please,” Annie said, throat tightening dangerously. “Tell her…tell her bye. Tell her I’ll miss her so, so much. And tell her that I’ll make sure Peli, her dog, gets fed. And that I love her.” Annie was fading, but she clutched desperately at Death. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re quiet today.” Death smiled at his friend. “Is everything all right?”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah…can I ask you something, Death?”

“Of course,” Death said easily. “I can’t promise an answer, but you can always ask.”

“Right.” Annie looked over at him, and for a moment the only sound was the crunch of sand beneath their feet. “You…you know that I’m not really walking, out there. Or, well, doing anything.” Death nodded. “Well…I used to sing, but I haven’t even been able to do that, recently. So I started writing. And…I think I wrote a poem about you?”

Death blinked. “You think?”

Annie shrugged. “I’m not really sure. But I wrote it, and my mom saw it. She wants me to enter it to some contest, to ‘put my words into the world one last time’ or whatever. But I want you to hear it. Because it’s for you, really, not the world.”

“Okay,” Death said.

“Okay.” Annie smiled shyly, and Death smiled back.

“I am lost To the world That should have been mine. I am a frequent visitor In a world Between the living and the dead.

My mother fears Death, My friends crave it. My teachers don’t speak of it, And my enemies use it as a taunt.

But the world of life twists, And turns, And changes Every time I dare to blink.

And when even my heart is inconsistent, Death is a constant. Not looming. Not waiting. But welcoming. In a world of extremes, I have found a home Between.

And when I come home, It is Death who greets me.”

Annie looked at him, and Death found himself momentarily speechless. But just as he opened his mouth, Annie faded away, and Death was left alone in a colorless world.

Annie brushed sand from her clothes, standing up. “That was…unpleasant,” she muttered. She looked around, and jumped when she saw Death behind her. “Oh my-Death! Don’t do that, it’s terrifying.” But Death didn’t laugh, and she frowned. “Death?”

“This is it.” He spoke so quietly, she could barely hear him. Still, the words filled her with a creeping, icy dread. “It’s time, Annie.” Annie didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. “I’ve never tried to save a mortal’s life before. But…I tried, Annie, I swear to you I tried.”

“I know,” Annie whispered. She wasn’t crying. How strange. Shouldn’t she be feeling something? She was about to die. “But we both knew it was only a matter of time. We called this place the Between for a reason.”

Death nodded. “But I hoped…”

“Me too.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Annie leaned up and gave Death a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for helping me live. Thank you for all of it. Whatever comes next, I’ll miss you.”

And for the first time he could remember, Death felt his eyes grow wet. “Remember,” he said, voice husky, “when you told me that hurt is good? Because it means that you care?” Annie nodded. “This hurts,” he whispered.

“Oh, Death…” Annie gave his hand a final squeeze, and then, one last time, she faded from the Between. Death reached for her, but she was gone.

And this time, she would never come back.

“Are you ready?” Liz grinned in the darkness. “I’ve been ready since you met me.” Uunz snorted. “You know that isn’t true.” Though it was too dark to see him, Liz flicked his ear. He yelped, and she laughed. “I’ve waited a long time for this, darling.” A twisted smirk crept up her face at the red she knew was filling his cheeks. They walked in silence for a moment, not even their footsteps betraying their presence. Young assassins learned quickly how to move quietly. Sloppiness meant death, or worse: failure. Then Uunz’s hand was on her arm, and Liz stopped. “Liz,” he said seriously. “I know you say you’re sure, but…are you?” She suppressed a laugh. He really was wrapped around her pinky finger… “I’m sure, Uunz. I’ve worked for this.” “I know.” He chuckled wryly. “Trust me, I know. But Liz, magic comes with a price. Are you willing to pay?” “I have nothing to lose,” Liz said coolly. In that moment, it felt true. Ien was lost to her, as was the Academy. She could never go home, not knowing all that she now knew. And if she wanted to move forward, to finally win instead of maintain a stalemate…this was the way. Still, she hesitated. “What exactly do you mean by pay?” “I’m not…I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Uunz said slowly. “But…loyalty isn’t easy. Magic comes from the gods, and we serve Death. You know all that already. But Death…He isn’t a kind Master, Liz. He’s hungry, and He’s impatient, and we…well, we’re Death’s Acolytes. His will is our command. You need to be ready to obey orders that make you want to gouge out your own eyes. He’ll remake you.” “Do you think me too weak to serve your god?” Liz’s voice was ice. “Of course not,” Uunz said. “But you still…you have so much light in your eyes. You’re a dreamer in a world that crushes dreams for sport. Do you really want to lose that?” Liz pretended to consider for a moment. She’d lose her influence on the man if she ignored him…finally she sighed. “Uunz, I need this. I have no other options.” He was quiet for a long time. Then he kept walking, and so Liz followed. They came to a set of stairs, and followed them down, down, down…into a tiny room with a tinier light. Several figures stood inside, hoods pulled up. One of them gestured for Liz to sit, so she did. Another took her hand and raised a knife. Liz didn’t flinch. She became aware that they were chanting something in a language she did not understand. Then the dagger was sliding up her arm, slowly, slowly…curving… Then the world went dark. She heard laughter, but she couldn’t feel her own body. She couldn’t-she couldn’t- The laughter faded. And when Liz could see again, there was something new inside her, something she’d never felt before. Magic.

The sound is louder than gunshots, But the lights are so beautiful. The fire is dangerous, surely, But look at the colors.

‘There’s no such thing as magic,’ That’s what they told me. ‘Wake up,’ That’s what they said. ‘Stop dreaming.’

But look; look! Have they forgotten how to see? There are lights in the sky, Dazzling flowers, Endless rainbows Without any rain.

Am I the only one who sees it? Have their aching necks kept them from looking up? If so, They ought to lie on the grass. It’s soft. And all I can see is the sky.

And for a moment, All is right. Caught up in this strange reality, I see magic. Away from their screaming, Screaming, Screaming, I see beauty. In a place I will never return to, I see home.

Would they tell me it’s stupid? If they ever dared to feel, Could they understand that there is such power in being able to love? But… But they don’t. They lost their hope. They lost their sight. They lost their magic.

The sound is louder than gunshots, Maybe it’s trying to wake them. This one’s purple… No, it’s changed. Now vibrant yellow is exploding out of it. The fire could be dangerous, So they consider stopping.

Why do they replace my magic with mundane? I sit in their classrooms for 5 days a week. Must they take away what little wonders they’ve left me? This one sounds like it’s screaming.

The green against the deep purple sky, Ringed with pink and flanked by clouds, With a full entorage of stars. Mom? Mom, do you see it? Yes, yes you do. So why don’t you care?

The sound is louder than gunshots… Don’t make me leave. The fire is dangerous, surely… Fine. I’m coming.