I hate coming home in the wake of a bad mission, but my parents are out tonight, which at least gives me the benefit of a few hours to recharge alone and frees me from being interrogated about coming home at seven PM with no warning or alibi. Still, the storm in my mind doesn't abate when I leave the Veins. The backpack manifests around my back and I almost jump out of my skin before remembering how the change back to civilian form works.

Civilian form.

Karen.

Alarms are wailing in my mind, far in the distance. A sudden image of Karen with her shaking fingers around a phone, trying to press three buttons... no. Karen would at least have the sense to do something anonymously. Whatever she's trying to do, however she plans to contact the authorities, Shiloh must be expending all his effort on her, because I can barely feel him in my head.

Amanda is lying on the floor of the Veins. I squint my eyes closed, trying to breathe slower, trying to stop the whirlwind of panic before it sets on, and I grasp for the cold brass doorknob of our house and force myself to focus on the cool texture. Unlocking my own hands from the grip of my runaway mind, I turn the metal. Something echoes through the house, like the whimper of a closing door or a ghost, but with a jolt, I realize that I recognize the noise.

Adam Rosenbloom is crying.

The noise is so subtle I can almost hear my own breath, but it's definitely him. My mind races for the last time I heard him cry- for some reason, I can only recall a single event, when I was six, and he got hit in the face hard enough to draw blood while we were playing a game in the park.

My lips purse, softly, and I ascend the stairs. It's not fear that overtakes me, but an old, dormant emotion, like a kinder pity. I think I'm scared for him, but I may also be scared that there's anything in the world capable of shaking Adam Rosenbloom.

I tap the door open, tensing every muscle in my body, and Adam doesn't pounce on me. He lies across his bed in fetal position, hands tensed like he could be holding something. His face, which is the same color as the former whites of his eyes, is covered in tear streaks and a little snot. He's a messy crier. His gaze seizes upon me and he tries to wipe himself off, mortified, but he keeps one hand down, clenched around something...

"Will." Leave me alone, Will. Why are you here, Will?

I rehearse the one line in my head- I didn't mean to condescend to you. I just wanted to help, and if you need to talk now, I can do that. I just want to be part of your life again. I want you to care about me, even a little. "What's in your hand?"

Adam unclenches his hand, tightens it again, and whispers, "I need to tell you something." His voice is colder than the other side of the moon.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remember the gesture, the pressure, I had picked up on something. "Anything."
"Seriously. You're going to think I'm crazy, but I need you to try to believe me. Promise?"

A thousand stars fall into alignment, all at once, and the universe begins to make sense. "Adam... I think I already do." I go for my backpack and take out the moonstone, which trembles in my grip, cold as the void of space itself. I unfurl my fingers, exposing it, and he raises his own hand to show me a lustrous orange stone, speckled across the surface and cut two times across, jagged lines that run over the whole stone, intersecting.

His hand trembles and he tears up further as he draws it back.

"Megan," I say, synapses firing. "All the times you weren't home. Everything."

He inclines his head slowly, his expression teeming with pain. "You too?"

"What were you-" I start.

"Protecting you. The people we're fighting? They're crazy." he says. "And you..."

"I don't know why I didn't tell you." I admit. "I think I was afraid." My own eyes are moist now, and my whole body shakes with relief. I reach out and hug him, and he doesn't resist, but he's disconcertingly stiff. It's like holding a ghost of a person.

"I fucked up, Will. I fucked up bad." Adam admits. "We... could have fixed all of this, couldn't we?"

"We still can." I insist.

"All of them. In the Veins. Right now." Adam agrees. He gets to his feet, swipes out his phone, texts a few people. His phone buzzes in immediate response. My jaw almost drops- what kind of discipline does his group have? Adam has a group. Adam has a group. Like us. Evan and Megan were part of it. Are?

"What?" I ask, really flaunting my intelligence.

Adam's eyes freeze up again, returning to that chill, brutal stare I've come to expect from him. It's not that of a brooding teenager anymore- it's a leader, fighting an uphill battle, and it is a leader who has lost men. "Forget this. Forget the shock, the dubious implications, how ridiculous we've been- we don't matter right now. What matters is them, because if you've been through half of what I have, they're everything to you... what matters is the end of the world." He disappears through the portal in our room, leaving me alone with my moonstone. I'm still turning it over in my hand, in my head, the implications limitless.

Dragging my body into action, I lift my phone. Guys. Veins. Now. I can fix everything. For real. There are more of us. Amanda should still be there. There's still a chance Karen hasn't... there's something. We have a chance now. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and search for Shiloh in my mind, for some way to proceed- there is none. I'm on my own. My phone blows up behind me, and I can see both Karen and Garrett's names on my screen. I place it down, the empty house calling my name, and the whole thing feels like something out of one of my Diosite nightmares.

The void beckons like it did on that first night.

At last, I follow my brother into the darkness.