'Just like fire, burning up the way/If I can light the world up for just one day/Watch this madness, colourful charade/No one can be just like me any way/Just like magic, I'll be flying free/I'mma disappear when they come for me/I kick that ceiling, what you gonna say?/No one can be just like me any way/Just like fire, fire'

-Just Like Fire

:/:

If any one person had set their eyes on the town of Thwaite at such a time, they would have said it was the most beautiful they had seen. The green hills seemed to roll, peppered with white wild flowers, and patchwork fields of beige and yellow were as far as the eye could see. But for Olalla, it was a responsibility. And one she had been putting off for a while. Maggie had been rather reluctant to let her go, but after some persuasion from Garson, did.
The Black Dog public house sat at the foot of steep downland, a nice enough place to stop. It was an old-aged pub, with greying walls and misted up windows that were difficult to see through, and inside it was the same story. The floors were laminated with dark wood, and a few stout tables was where drunkards sat, lolling about with pints of beer. The already quiet conversation that was underlined by the creaking of a signpost outside, inscribed with a beastly looking wolf, quietened when she entered. The locals weren't exactly used to new arrivals.

"Pint of your best", Olalla said to the landlord. He was a man of his twenties, dressed in scruffy clothes and was obviously new to this job given his nervous attitude.

"You're new", he replied, grabbing a tankard from the shelf behind him. "Aren't ya'?"

"I'm a relative of the late Renata Jezequel, and I've... inherited their house. So, I'm going to be staying here for a while", Olalla lilted, taking the glass from the bar and taking a sip of the amber liquid. "You're pretty, what's your name?"

"James. And I've never been called 'pretty' before", the landlord replied with a raised eyebrow. "Especially not by a Jezequel".

"Well, first time for everything", Olalla lulled, seeing a tiny, glowing opportunity to make a perfect first impression, perhaps it would come in handy when she needed a favour. Sometimes fear was the best motivator, trepidation, well, that was even better. "And I wouldn't think any of you miserable lowlifes has ever decided to go and experience anything yourselves". The landlord looked at her, slightly taken aback by what she said, and Olalla could feel evil looks being shot her way. She didn't care though.

"You better hold your tongue, girl", he said, lifting a hand to someone just behind her. "I'll let it pass, but I don't think anyone else here will again". The Hyde just smirked, rolling the glass around in her hand.

"Is that a threat?", she asked, almost whispering. "Because I don't deal well with threats". James was noticing now: the ice-blue that tinged her eyes, the way she was clenching the tankard so tight that a long crack appeared down the side of it. He cast alarmed looks around the room, and went to take the glass from her hand. Olalla didn't move a muscle, just replied with a raised eyebrow.

"There was a story, ya' know? My father used to tell it to me. 'Bout the Black Dog, Old Shuck", James said in a quiet voice, starting to put two and two together. "That's yous, ain't it? You've brought the curse back to us".

"I'm not 'Old Shuck', darling, and if you call me a curse again, I'll put that pretty face six feet under".

"Then what are ya? Who are ya?" James asked, and Olalla laughed. She had been Hyde ever since she arrived here, just had been hiding it better than usual. But the façade was beginning to break.

"Olalla Hyde", she lilted, throwing the tankard on the floor so it smashed into fragments. Swaggering out, she pulled her hair away from her eyes, and blew the landlord a sarcastic kiss. "At your service".

:/:

That was a week ago. Since then relationships with the locals had remained unchanged. Well, they had been strained since the Jezequel family had moved there in the first place, so Olalla didn't expect drastic alterations. Maggie and the rest of the household had kept in touch with her, and, in fact, she had settled into her mantle quickly. The house seemed lonely, though. Whenever you spoke, it would echo through every crevice, and Olalla would usually spend her time around the church, trying to mend the portal. Hyde had not exactly been very gentle with it.
She sat rather quietly, a rare moment for the mouthiest of the Hydes, in the main room of the church. Robert was still on his holiday, and had been sending her postcards at every port he met. Now she was surrounded by the rectangular cards, all depicting various locations in Europe. A new one had come that morning, coloured plain violet with the words 'Festival of Light: Delhi' written across it in gold. Turning it over, it was covered in inky shorthand writing that she immediately noted as Robert's.

'Dear Olalla,

I write to you from Diwali, the Festival of Light, surrounded by hundreds of candles. It is a truly beautiful sight; the flame casting chaotic shadows among the rest. Though I can only relate this to my current situation, and perhaps yours too. A man once said that darkness was something to run from, and I suppose it was foolish of me to follow this. Because what is light, without darkness? What are the stars without the backdrop of night? What am I without Hyde?
You once said to me that I should just accept that I was Hyde, that I should give up the lies that I am just one. Well this is me giving up. I know this is long-winded, and I know that I should've said this to you in person, but one day you'll bring this up and I'll deny it. This is your proof.
I am not just Hyde, and I'm not just Jekyll. And I suppose I will never be either until I die. But I am Hyde, and, whether I like it or not, the darkness will always be my closest ally. The darkness will always be our closest ally. Just remember to always let the stars shine however nebulous it becomes.

Good luck,
Robert

:/:

"Next!" said the gruff voice of the man, sitting behind the desk of the post office. He looked as equally tired as the rest of his co-workers, who all wore the same grey uniform with the London crest printed on their jackets. The hooded figure, the same that escaped just after Renata's funeral, approached him, still with their dark fabric covering their face.

"I need an address", they said in a low voice. A man's voice. "Of someone in London".

"Name?" The figure paused for a moment, placing a hand on the desk to steady himself.

"Maggie... Margaret Kendall".

"Relation?"

"Um, mother".

"Got any ID? Driving licence?"

"I- I haven't. But I'm not lying. She's my mother".

"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot disburse information if you do not have identification". A low growl emitted from under the stranger's hood in response, and their free hand clenched into a tight fist.

"I've travelled a long way, okay. And I need that information. I need to see Maggie, I need to see my mother".

"I can't, I'm sorry". Snarling, the figure held the office worker by the collar of his shirt, and hiked him up so that he no longer sat on his seat.

"Yes, you can", he answered in a threatening roar. "And you will". Still holding the man up, the figure took his hood away from his face to reveal Louis. He had three, long scratches crossing his face and his eyes were as blue as cut ice, but only for a moment, before returning to brown.

"Margaret Kendall, you say?" the post officer said, chuckling nervously, and flicked through the book in front of him. "Um, says here '43 Lanyon Drive'. Other residents include: Charlotte Jekyll, Garson Poole, Robert Jekyll and Ravi Najaran". Louis nodded, contented with his answer, so dropped him back on his seat. His mother had moved then from her country home, back to the Jekyll house. Why? He didn't know. But a bigger question loomed on his mind: where the Hell had Dance put Olalla?

"One more thing", Louis exclaimed. "Olalla... Dance. Where does Olalla Dance reside?" The officer nodded, now completely terrified of Louis in his Hyde form, and flicked through the book again.

"No Olalla Dance here". Louis growled; to his knowledge, Dance probably still had her captive. He was sure the answer would drive him mad, but instead, as ferociously calm as a crouching tiger, changed into Jekyll.

"Um... t-thank you", he murmured quickly, putting his hood back over his head and walking out.

:/:

"Do you miss Ceylon?" Maggie asked Ravi during one of the many quiet moments of the Jekyll house.

"I don't miss Ceylon", he had replied. "That could've been anywhere. I... I miss my parents".

"I know. But they're here, Ravi. They're here watching over you always". The Indian boy nodded slightly, leaning back in his chair.

"Have you lost someone, Maggie?"

"If you're not counting Edward Hyde, then just the one", she started, sighing. "My son, Louis. When Tenebrae found me in London, they told me that they had him entrapped, and that they were going to kill him".

"I'm sorry".

"We can't live in the past, Ravi. Because they wouldn't want us to. They'd want us to carry on, taking them with us, every step of the way".

"I'd just want to know if they were proud of me".

"Ravi Najaran, you've taken on an army of monsters, seen people fall and be corrupted, and still you keep your head up high. I'm proud to just know you and your optimism". With a small beam on his face, he was about to say something in reply, but was cut off abruptly by a knock at the door. Getting up from his seat, he went to the front door and opened it to Louis, with a hood over his face.

"Is Maggie here?" he said in a gruff voice.

"Depends who's asking", Ravi replied, trying to analyse the figure in front of him. They weren't MIO; they didn't look prepped enough for the government organisation. Tenebrae sprung immediately to his mind, and everything about the stranger fitted.

"Please, I need to see her. I've been too far to be turned away now".

"Remove your hood". Reluctantly Louis agreed, and the boy stepped back in shock at his injuries. "Maggie", he said. "There's someone here to see you". Maggie slowly got up from her chair, and when she saw her son, standing in the doorway, she thought she was dreaming. It had been so long.

"Louis, my boy?" she got out eventually, her face a picture of confusion, but also absolute joy. "Have you finally come home?"

:/:

Kumaliza: The End...