I really wanted to help Jonathan out. But I started feeling extremely weak, too, and I saw something strange happening --- the whole scene was fading in front of my eyes, like a dream does when you're about to wake up.

In a moment, everything around us changed completely, and I found Alefpeneash staring at me.

"It is time that this hero wakes," he commented, and dispelled all injuries, internal and external, from Jonathan's body with a flick of his hand. It looked like a much more sophisticated version of what I could do with my healing powers.

Jonathan, as on cue, opened his eyes and looked around. He appeared only slightly puzzled that our location had changed.

"You underwent an important trial with the demonic doubles," Alefpeneash said. "I had fun watching you, though it is said that some travelers can never dispel the illusion. More's the pity that the same didn't happen to you."

"How could we not figure it out?" Jonathan was getting angry. "They had nothing in common with us."

"You are lucky you apparently know yourself, and each other, that well," the Demon commented. "But my mirages are not made randomly. They are born from your own fear and subconscious, so it would only make sense if you were fooled."

I could understand. There was a moment, when I had heard that fake Atticus had died, where I almost empathized with my fake self.

"As much as I loathe you, I wanted to reward you, as I do with those who can get through so many hours in my realm. So I sent you in that specific simulation, knowing that it is a shortcut to the Isle of the Blessed, the place where you are now."

"What's your catch?" I asked.

Alefpeneash looked at me with something in his eyes that resembled pity. It made me feel worse than the previous enjoyment I'd seen there, back when he'd hurt us.

"I obviously hoped you would not come so far," he said. "But I am, in some ways, just. I can only wish that perhaps you will lose your way later on. This is not the final step in your journey to the Other Side."

He disappeared.

"I can hear spirits," I told Jonathan. "This must be the point where the Other Side and the realm of the dead's barriers are thinner."

"I remember we were told we would find help here," Jonathan replied. "I wonder who could be here, waiting for us."

I wondered whether he was thinking of his mother's ghost, or his father's. Or was his father still alive? It sounded unlikely, but he had never mentioned him either. I had no one to hope for. I was alone, but there had been no mourning in my life so far.

"Look," Jonathan suddenly pointed at a ghost. It was starting to take a corporeal form, and it looked so much like someone we knew I immediately felt sick.

"It can't be..." I muttered. "She can't have died while we were down here, can she?"

But, as the ghost approached us, our lungs begun to breathe again. The woman looked like Mira, but not so much as to be the exact same person. It was quite possible she was related to her, though.

"Welcome," she said, and her voice was very soft and sweet. "I apologize for the inconvience, if you believed I was my sister. My name is Lerato. I have been watching over Mira ever since the day I passed, barely able to pursue my new life as a spirit. As soon as I figured out I could her out by helping you two, I couldn't miss the chance. First of all, I have to thank Roman for keeping me grounded. If Jonathan had traveled alone, I would have had to appear to him in dreams, and it is likely that the magic that Alefpeneash used to make him wake up, would make it harder for him to fall asleep again for a long time. Such is the nature of that Demon."

"I also know that you would be even better grounded if you told us about the day you died," I said. I meant to make it sound professional, but it came out worse than I'd intended. These stories were often painful for everyone involved, and they took much time to be told the way the spirit wanted you to hear them.

"I know you think it's annoying,"Lerato smiled. "No, don't apologize. Just think how many times it has been important to hear a certain story. In my case, mine will also unveil something of Mira's past, and you will grow to love her and understand her even better if you hear me out."

"It was Mira's fifteen birthday," she added. One of the differences between the two women was that they weren't close in age anymore, but when Lerato died, they must have been.

"It's the day she became a Watcher," Jonathan pointed us. "That's what she told us."

"It's true," Mira's sister confirmed sadly. "But did she tell you about me? I understand why she wouldn't. Despite the passing of time, she still has an hard time talking about it. You see, I was the one who had gone to battle the Creature. I didn't want her to have to do it on her birthday, of all days, and it was just us two. But the injuries were too deep, and I could never survive them. When I finally died, too much time had passed, and my soul had already left my body before I could be made into a Watcher. Mira, in the meantime, had battled the same Creature, and also died. But, as you know, she came back."

"That's extremely rare," Jonathan couldn't help but point out. "I've heard there were cases, but I've never met anybody who'd died and not become a Watcher."

"Do you meet dead people frequently?" I couldn't suppress the sarcasm. 

He was right, though. Most people made it, and it was the reason why there were some who weren't properly afraid to meet a Creature anymore. Or why some people couldn't understand that, if it was hard to survive one, the death rate would only increase if you were attacked by more of them.

"That's why Mira became a researcher," Lerato explained. "First of all, she got out of Kem, and changed her name to be able to live a life more suited to the body she should have been born with. And then, she devoted her life to studying. Because most people think all the lore about Watchers is already established, but she had found out that there was always more to know. In cases of people like me, perhaps, a way to prevent us from not coming back."

Jonathan and I were deeply touched. We had both noticed Mira had some heavy sadness from her past, and our subconscious had probably translated to fake-Mira turning to alcohol to cope with the loss.

However, there was nothing much more we could say other than thanking her for narrating her story. We could both be very talkative, but Lerato's modest and shy attitude, united with her tragic circumstances, had quieted us down.

"I want to help you," she said. "There are many things that spirits know, and you both would need to hear some things you don't know about yourself, but I'm prevented by my state to reveal too much. I'm afraid one secret is not going to be enough on your hard journey, but I've chosen well, and I decided which one you can't go on without knowing."

That had been another reason why Jonathan and I were waiting more patiently than we normally would. As much as we enjoyed spending time with Lerato, we also were dying to know the clue she would give us for the path ahead.

As soon as she started talking, blood drained from my face. I didn't know which was worse --- the fact that her words confirmed my worst suspicions, or the fact that, out of all the secrets the world was apparently keeping from us, I'd been destined to hear the one that I already knew.

In fact, she said. "There is one among you who you should not trust. A person who behaves in a certain way, but acts in another --- who says that they're going to do one thing, but are secretly working on another plan. This person is not only a liar, but they're also dangerous, and you need to break free from them. For if you don't, there will be a disasterous aftermath in which evil thriumps."

Even if I knew who she was talking about, the words seemed too crude and final even for that person. But no, who else would it be? I had to remember there were things I didn't know. Perhaps all the rest would likely apply too, had I been aware of everything.

Before we could ask questions, she simply vanished.

"...That's it?" Jonathan exclaimed. "I mean, happy to have known her and all, but she cannot possibly say something like that and then just go. Nobody told us her clue would be a riddle! I didn't expect it to be about a traitor in our midst, but she should at least have given us the name, since she surely knows it."

"I know it too," I admitted. The words were painful to say aloud.

"Is it you?" Jonathan mistook my reticence for guilt. "Or are you implying it's me? Because I don't think it could be either of us. Though, if it was you, it would certainly make sense with my bad luck pattern."

"I think it's my brother," I said. "Atticus."

That shut Jonathan up. I could tell he had a million questions, and I wasn't sure I could answer them all.

"It's a long story, and even I don't know everything," I continued. "But I trust Lerato, and if she thinks he's going to become that kind of person, or if he already is, then you need to know."

The sorrow from my voice wouldn't go away. It was there equally for having kept some vital information from Jonathan, and for having to turn on my brother, something I had never wished to do, even when I feared the day would eventually come.

"I have boasted about my honesty more than anyone I've ever known," I started off. "But I lied to you. I've been lying to you this whole time."

"Roman, what do you mean?"

"Before we went to the Other Side, I didn't really believe our world could be saved, or that we were the right people to do it. I hadn't joined the others for no other reason than one. I always have to be where Atticus is, especially if it looks like he might be plotting something."

"I don't understand...why?"

"I don't fully understand it either," I replied, suddenly frustrated. Every time I tried to say something bad about my brother, the truth would slip from my grasp like a bottle, and I was left staring at the jagged pieces on the floor, unable to put them back together.

"You have to believe I'm trying," I explained. "There are a lot of things I don't know, so many things I don't remember."

"Is there a beginning?" Jonathan asked gently. "You could start there."

"There could be more than one, but I clearly remember this one," I said. "Atticus had just turned into a Watcher. I was still young and unable to use my powers correctly. I accidentally read him. I saw that he had been using his Skill, Charm, to bewitch me into forgetting things he'd done. I did not see which kind of things they were. I had never restored my memories, and I am sure he went on to do it, for I don't remember after, when he does. But there are frequently things I can't put together. And there wasn't even the worst of it. I tried to pull away, both in fear of the discovery, and another kind of fright --- when you read people, they can see what you have seen. But, as I told you, my powers were still all over the place. Instead of pushing back, I pushed forward, and I got into his mind more deeply. Now, that would be the place where most humans store complex emotions or thoughts. It felt empty. I never trusted him from that day onward, no matter how much I wanted to."

Jonathan looked shocked. 

"Why haven't you said anything sooner?" he winced. "It sounds like he has the clear potential to be dangerous. It could have put all of us, all the mission, at risk. You should have told somebody."

"Who is going to believe me over Atticus?" It wasn't random that I often found myself comparing our completely different looks and attitude --- when faced with the choice, people would find excuses for his modest and appealing demeanor.

"Are you kidding, Roman?" Jonathan looked really hurt. "I would have believed you, obviously!"

"Even if I wanted to, there was never the right time," I tried to excuse myself. "Atticus follows me closely, and he keeps an eye on me. I don't know how ruthless or strong he really can be, because I've either never known, or made to forget. I couldn't take the chance that he wouldn't take it out on you --- as I said, I don't really know him when it comes to this kind of reaction. Besides, I thought I was going to deal with that."

"Don't try to protect me," Jonathan commented dryly. "I only find it extremely belittling of my capabilities."

"I wasn't going to," I replied. "At first, as much as I liked you, Aurora, Minx and Mira, I simply thought it was none of your business. I've been dealing with Atticus my whole life, you just had to stand him until he got bored of you, or whatever else he was pursuing. But then, you protected me with my father. And, if the chance arose, you were going to protect me with Skandar, otherwise you wouldn't have followed me in the first place. And I never had anyone like that before you. Maybe after that, I would have felt differently."

"I did what I had to do, and I wouldn't get mad if you did the same," Jonathan explained. "But I don't want it to be dishonesty between us, and I hope you're not one of those people who is going to say that sometimes it pays to have lied about something."

"Look, I did want to tell you!" I almost screamed. "I just don't know how I'm ever going to put it into words! I don't have enough memories to back it up, I know that Atticus is not what he seems, but I don't know what he is... if Lerato hadn't mentioned it, I would still think I was being paranoid, like I thought half of my life."

Since Jonathan wasn't in the mood to talk, I tried to look for other memories, to have more I could share. Surprisingly, after I had made myself say the first few statements, the rest came a bit easier.

"Have you ever wondered why I throw knives?"

Jonathan shrugged, trying to look disinterested.

"I assumed you did it to catch the eye of pretty boys," he said, then he grimaced. "Pun not intended."

"And before you can mock me," he added hastily. "I wasn't talking about myself. I would never call myself a pretty boy."

"I've always wanted to be a Watcher," I spoke softly. "Silly, I know. But Atticus... there was nothing he wanted less. He'd always stress upon me that we had to live a quiet, subtle life, without attracting too much attention. It'd always been harder for me, but he could fit into this mold quite right. He only became a Watcher because if Aurora died and people would know his boyfriend hadn't defended her, he would become the talk of Old Solima. But I can honestly tell you I think he hoped his would be one of the rare cases, like Lerato's. When he turned, he was angry and his moods, always so controlled, were volatile. He once told me he could not assure me he wouldn't use his power to make great damage. He taunted me. He said, 'Since you've always wanted to be a Watcher, you can watch over me.' That's when I promised I would never leave his side."

"Why didn't he make you forget?" Jonathan sounded more curious than skeptical. "It is so rare to see him angry that perhaps he would have preferred if you didn't know what he was like."

"But if I forgot," I explained. "How could I keep my promise?"

"Wait..." Jonathan said. "What does it have to do with the knives?"

"He said I would have to learn to use a weapon," I recalled. "If the time came that I had to defend myself... or if I had to stop him. He said that, whichever I chose, I would need to aim perfectly. 'Because', he'd added, 'we both know that if you miss a vital spot, you won't have the guts to try again.' I don't remember saying yes. In fact, I didn't want to do it. But I remember training myself. My memory plays those tricks on me."

Jonathan was pale. 

"I need a minute to think," he said. "Every time you say something about him... I understand why you wouldn't talk before, but I also wonder how you could possibly think it was better for all of us not to know. Mira, Minx and I befriended him. Aurora is his girlfriend, and she probably knows less than you do, otherwise she wouldn't stick around."

"I don't want to add any pressure," he continued. "I just don't see how you think it was fair of you."

When he said that I wasn't replying anything, he finally snapped.

"I just don't see why someone like you could hang around people like Skandar and your brother, and hurt yourself over your magic all the time thinking you deserve it or something, while you are the same person who gets so bugged up about that one time I literally had to drink poison. You might think that you can take more than others, or you probably think it's fun to be a victim, but let me tell you this from a literal martyr. It's not, and it makes you look like you don't value pain, like you think it's ridiculous."

He winced. He had probably thought the last statement was exactly what my subconscious had created in my fake-version.

"It's not how I feel," I said. "I'll try to make you understand. I'll try to do better. I... I just wanted to have some memories, to gather more data before I pointed any fingers..."

He was storming away. I tried to follow him, barely noticing how beautiful the Isle of the Blessed was, with its plants that looked like purple corals, like its vegetation mirrored what you could find at the bottom of the ocean.

Jonathan stopped abruptly, and I accidentally stumbled upon his feet, knocking him to the ground.

When we got back up, I realized why he'd stopped. We had no way to go but forward, into a lake of fire.