She called herself Titania. It was an accurate name, for she was as beautiful and capricious and prone to dangerous grudges as the faerie queen of legend, though “Mab” or “Morgan” might have been even more appropriate. Her power was insidious and terrifying in its scope—even limited to one Suggestion every new moon—but her desire seemed to be more for entertaining drama than carnage. For now.

For all the careers and relationships that had been irreparably damaged by “Tell them how you truly feel,” there were also those that would go forward stronger. There were even those that had begun as a result.

The Suggestions were not impossible to resist: they began as a passing fancy and waxed in power with the moon. If you made it to the full moon without giving in to the (by then) near-obsessive compulsion, you could often resist entirely. Three ‘waves’ had been enough to establish this pattern. The first had been, appropriate to Titania’s cruel sense of whimsy, simply: “*Dance.*” Even a simple twirl satisfied the urge, easy to mistake, in its early stages, for one’s own whim. Many people were entirely unaware they had even been affected.

The second was the more damaging, “Set a Fire.” Grills and hearths were not the only things that had been lit. It was fairly clear even so early on that Titania was ramping up: testing what she could achieve. Fortunately, young children seemed among the least affected by Titania’s powers, though teenagers fell pray to them as easily as adults.

Third was the infamous “Tell them how you truly feel.” Reina had managed it easily, fairly early on, by telling Vi, over Indian takeout and the background noise of a baking show episode neither of them were paying much attention to, “You saved my life you know. I couldn’t be more lucky to have you in it.”

Vi had given her that perpetually surprised smile that reappeared whenever Reina made declarations like this, and likely answered Titania’s compulsion as well (if she hadn’t already), by responding: “I feel lucky to be in your life. And to have you in mine.”

This cycle, the Suggestion couldn’t be accomplished so benignly. “Reveal your darkest secret,” had none of the ambiguity of “Tell them how you truly feel.”

Reina had tried to resist. She had tried to find work arounds: writing out a confession before destroying the document. But apparently ‘reveal’ meant ‘reveal to someone else.’ And the impulse was only growing stronger.

“Hon, did you hear anything I just said?” Vi asked, a little tightly. Her own confession, of going against the mandatory reporter guidelines at a student’s desperate behest, was dangerous and depressing in equal measure—still capable of affecting her job even years after the fact—and she had clearly been hurt when Reina didn’t answer her with her own confidence.

Reina opened her mouth to apologize and found herself saying something else altogether, her stomach twisting as the words escaped. “I killed the Eclipse.” A misguided Power, more hero-complex than hero, whose loss of control had threatened the entire city. And, it had been revealed in the aftermath, Vi’s childhood friend: Simon.

Vi’s face went pale and blank. Her voice was almost toneless when she replied, flatly, “No you didn’t. D'Artagnan killed the Eclipse.”

Reina swallowed, keeping her mouth shut, teeth clenched, but no other words tried to escape. The secret had been revealed. The compulsion was satisfied.