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The evening that covers the city is indifferent and joyless.

The Great Temple cannot be conquered still, and the vast majority of the shamans are hiding there. Therefore, Cale has to accept the streets of Tik'al covered with corpses and the captured shamans as his victory for now.

When I enter the building of an old abandoned sugar warehouse standing on the outskirts of Cabracan, the plainbloods who guard it don't even look at me. It only makes me feel more disgusted with myself. Everyone thinks I'm so safe, loyal, and shaman-hating boy that no one is watching me.

I dreamed about enslaving shamans for my entire life, and here I am. My dreams came true. Am I happy? No. Where those really my dreams, then?

All the captured shamans were locked in the warehouse, as if in prison, but something tells me that in prison, it would have been more pleasant. The warehouse was empty for ten years, if not more. It stinks of damp, mold, and rats. And its high ceilings and wide, bare walls designed to store huge sugar bags, are alarming: there is nowhere to hide in here; you feel defenseless, abandoned, useless, like a speck of dust in a trash can.

When the guard opens and unlocks the door for me, behind which Loretto was locked, I am afraid to step inside. I don't know how I'm going to look Lo in the eye. Mentor is here because of me.

Exhaling, I enter.

The room really looks like a prison cell, except that it's huge. And it's so dark in here that I can't see Lo right away. There is only one small window with bars under the ceiling, which one can barely reach, let alone escape through it.

Lo looks up when fae sees me. Fae sits with faer back against the wall, on the floor, under the window, in the shadow, with faer knees pulled up to faer chin and faer arms wrapped around faer knees. Lo is still wearing faer torn, dirty robe, and faer hair, which Cale cut, sticks out, barely reaching faer shoulders.

Lo looks at me with a blank, detached look.

"Can't sleep?" fae says. "Did you come to chat?"

The door behind me clanks closed by the guard. He whispers something about me being careful next to the evil shaman, and promises to come to my aid if I call. I ignore him.

"You shouldn't have let me put a collar on you, Lo," I say.

Lo shakes faer head. "How? Kill you?"

"You know I didn't bring Kofi with me on purpose, right? I didn't hear that he was following me."

Lo does not respond.

After a moment, I approach. I sit down on the floor next to Lo. The floor is cold to the point of shivering, I don't know how Lo is sitting. My mentor can no longer use magic while there is silver around faer neck, which means faer cannot warm faerself with witchcraft.

"The First Blood, Lo? Why does everyone think you're the goddess?" Only now do I realize that Lo has never actually told me that faer family died the previous civil war that Maricela started. Faris bragged about it, mentioning it as gossip, Ariane suggested it...I believed it. "How old are you, then?" I ask. "Really?"

Lo thinks for a moment, faer fingers reaching to faer clipped hair. "Let me see. I was eighteen when Montejo's people came conquering my lands four hundred and eighty-seven years ago. When I swore to myself I wouldn't age a day until I get my revenge. Today, I'm...oh, still eighteen?" Loretto gives me a sour smile.

Four hundred and eighty-seven years? I can feel my face growing wan. I've just learned to accept two centuries, but four? For centuries, reliving your nightmare day after day? How much pain can you experience in four hundred years? How many scars are on your soul?

I suddenly feel uneasy, realizing I'm sitting to the oldest shaman in the world, probably. I'm in love with the oldest shaman in the world! So many lifetimes... "What were you doing all this time, Lo?"

Lo chuckles, humorous. Fae doesn't look at me. "You mean after your ancestors killed my family before my very eyes? Oh I don't know. Running, hiding, trying to survive alone and crying to sleep, wishing I hadn't survived?" Lo shrugs. "When you're immortal, time feels differently. For many years, shamans were persecuted. I've been waiting and waiting for an opportunity. The man who ordered killing my family died, and so did his son, and so did his son's daughter, and her daughter...And I realized that death wasn't enough to pay for my pain. The pain of death lasts for seconds, and I've been carrying my anguish for lifetimes. I wanted a lifetime of anguish for my enemies, too.

"Time is a lie Eli. It never seems like enough once you spend it." Loretto glances at me, then quickly turns away as I try to catch faer glance. "I did the boring stuff, I guess. Running from your people at first, hiding, trying to survive without using magic and exposing myself. Sleeping in basements, eating from dumpsters, doing any dirty job I could find. Selling trash, selling myself, stealing, lying, smiling. Hating everyone, dreaming about revenge, planning, waiting, waiting, waiting...Getting tired, getting depressed, getting suicidal. Turning my pain into anger, then crying, then becoming numb, then cold, then indifferent until time seemed to stop mattering to me and I stopped feeling at all. Until all I had was a cold-blooded, perfect plan, Montejo."

"So it's never been about some hypothetical ancestors of mine who hurt yours. You never planned on wining the Trials, punishing Maricela, saving the enclave...It was personal? You wanted to hurt...me? But I'm nothing like Montejo, Loretto."

"You're everything like him, Eli. You think like him, and even look like him. The only difference is, you're younger than he was when he came to power. You're younger, and therefore, you still don't know what you want from this life, you're still willing to change for a heart opened to you. For love."

"Does Maricela know who you are?"

Lo shakes faer head.

"Why haven't you told her?" But the First Blood is also rumored to be the Empress Ixchel's ancestor... "Is Maricela your heir? Your daughter? Or granddaughter? Grand-grand..." How many grands?

"She's not my daughter," Lo finally glares at me. As though my question is offending. "I've never had any children. Maricela is the granddaughter of my older sister's daughter."

A niece then.

But it's still too much to comprehend for me. Getting up, I beginn to pace along the room, trying to put the pieces together. "But how did you survive, Lo? If your family was..."

"One of Montejo's own people helped me run away," Lo says, faer voice indifferent as though nothing matters anymore. "Apparently Montejo hasn't told all his people what he intended. Funny, how one person can fool and manipulate so many, right? You just need a handful of loyal and cruel ones, and make sure others believe those cruel would punish them in case they disobey. I never learned her name, only heard she was accused of treason and killed soon after I ran."

I shake my head. "I'm nothing like them, Lo."

"You are everything like them!" Lo finally raises to faer feet, too. "It's not the blood that defines you, it's your upbringing. And you plainbloods are all brought up the same. You don't realize it's your jealousy that makes you unworthy, not your blood. You think you've no magical power, so your jealousy and fear and lack of control make you attack before being attacked. I told you memories fade, but not feelings." Lo looks me straight in the eyes as fae adds, "I hate your people, Eli. I hate your ancestors and your family. I hate you."

"Then why would you let my brother put a collar on you? To lose?"

Lo laughs, a cynical sound. "Did I? Lose? Look at you, you're a mess. I might be in a collar, but I've got a weapon now, even without my magic, I'm armed. You are my weapon, as long as you breathe, Eli. I didn't just teach you the power of magic, I taught you the power of words as well. You're not as gullible anymore. You won't just let your brother chain you up and beg to listen to you, you'll make it bloody, just like Montejo fighting against me--you'll fight for me. Tell your family you're a wicked shaman now, it'll ruin them; hide--and the lie will ruin you from within, and since you're a part of your family, your people end up ruined still. So you're my weapon no matter what you do. My collar? It's nothing but a mere jewelry, I don't care if I've no powers and you know it. I've pulled the trigger on my gun, all I'm left to do is sit back and watch where the bullet lands."

I might have believed it all, but I see how unsteady Lo looks as fae says it. Fae pushes every word out faer mouth, as though they've been hurting faer just as much as they hurt me.

Lo looks away, then stares me squarely in the eye again.

I shake my head. "If I've actually been nothing but a weapon for you, Lo, a tool, you wouldn't have told me all that. Your story. You wouldn't have hated--or loved me--you would have felt nothing at all. Because one doesn't have feelings for tools. And if I'm your weapon, you're mine as well. You know what happens when two weapons collide? They explode."

Lo laughs. "How am I your weapon? I won't fight for you."

"Won't you? Because I think if you managed to teach me something, I've managed something as well. I think I've broken something in you, too. You want to ruin my family, that's your dream? Your life's work? But if you ruin my family, you ruin yours, too. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that dinner at my house, didn't like the way my moms and sisters treated you. Like a family. My family is the closest thing you've had to your own in centuries, and now you're willing to give up your happiness if that brings you revenge? I don't believe you're mad enough so as to get your own happiness ruined just to hurt me."

Lo lowers faer eyes. "Your family doesn't want me the real me."

"They don't know the real you!" And then I hesitate. "I guess they don't know the real me now, too. But it doesn't change anything! Maybe Cale and Kofi are too blind to see it, but Ariane and Ola and Moms? They don't care if you're a shaman. Well, Ariane definitely doesn't."

As Loretto keeps silent again, I begin again, stubborn.

"Admit it, you need me, Lo," I say. "It might have been nothing but revenge at first for you, but in order to make me believe you, you had to believe me, too. To trust me. Otherwise I wouldn't have bought your feelings. And now, if I'm shattered, if I'm gone, you'll be alone again. Who's gonna call you Lo? Who are you gonna call Eli? You need Eli!"

My voice grows agitated, and now I'm not sure if I'm convincing faer or myself.

"Say it. You need me, Lo. Without me, your life is a cloud of depression, loneliness, and anger for the lost past. Nothing but shattered dreams of retribution, which as we both know now, let's be honest, never make people happy. They never dull the pain, just hide the old wounds, covering them with new ones. I'm your present, Lo. We are the future. We can still change the world together."

Turning to look at the window, at a small patch of clouded sky visible there, Lo lets out a bitter laugh. "The most inspiring talk you've ever made, I guess?"

"Did it work?"

Lo hesitates. "A little. But I'm not interested in changing the world, Eli. You know that. It might sound cliché, but I'm too old for that. I've seen too much. And I'm not afraid to hurt, or to get my dreams shattered--again."

"Tell me what you want."

Silence. Fae doesn't know, I realize. If not revenge, if not retribution...Lo has never thought of other options.

"We can just live," I say, uncertain. Lo looks over faer shoulder at me, frowning. "We can just live, Lo. Eat carrot cookies and corn cakes. Go to the hot springs, shamelessly naked. Talk and talk and kiss on a creaking wooden table. But we have to do it together. I trusted you when I was stuck at Tik'al. Trust me now. I'll make Cale understand. I'll convince him to let you go."

"What are you going to tell him? Hey, Cale let's abandon our plans of taking the throne because I'm in love?"

"Yes!"

Lo doesn't even laugh now. Tears shine in Lo's eyes, which make my heart sink.

This is it, the end, I realize. No way to stop a war that has begun. No way for Loretto to win the Trials, because there will be no Trails. No way for us to go back in time and be who we were at my house. Nothing brings Lo's family back...even revenge won't help here. It feels like dying, really. Worse, like you're already dead inside yet still breathing--no escape.

Sometimes, I think people hate each other.

Sometimes, I think they just fear each other.

And it's a well-known fact: if you fear someone can hurt you, hurt them first. Strike earlier and when they least expect it. That's the best way to win. It's not hard to threaten someone, is it? But it takes great courage to promise not to bring more pain--even when your heart is already bleeding.

And if Ariane was right, and anger is nothing but kindness that does not know how to express itself, then hatred is nothing but love that was given but never excepted. Lo hated Montejo, and I fell in love with a shaman. Isn't it the right way? The real way? Love is the only key that can stop wars in this world.

"I know the real you, Lo," I say, holding Lo's gaze. "I think I'm the only person who walks the earth these days and knows you, really. I know that you drum your fingers against your thigh when you're nervous, and you tell me to fuck off when my words hurt you. You don't trust people because people die and leave you alone, and you hug your own shoulders when you think nobody's watching. You hold a book in your hand when you can, because books make you feel safer, because books are windows to something bigger than the life you're stuck in. And you kissed me that very first time because you trusted me. Because you knew I could die and leave you, but you chose to trust me. And you chose to trust me when you let me put this collar around your neck. Tell me I'm wrong."

Lo is silent. Tears shining in faer eyes brighter.

"You don't understand, Eli. I'm not afraid for myself. I can't think of anything that can hurt me more. I'm not afraid of bruises or broken bones or cut throats. Or humiliation, or dying, or losing a family that's already lost. I can starve, I can freeze, I can sleep in a cage and wear a collar and have no magic, but what I can't is stop knowing you. I was terrified of you when I first saw you. Terrified of looking into your eyes, of staying with you in one room, or touching you and--seeing a memory. Montejo. But then we've made new memories..."

"Lo--"

"No. Listen!" Faer approaches me, putting faer cold hands on my cheeks. "Please, listen?"

I nod.

Lo smiles, though tears run down faer own cheeks. "We've made new memories, and they're stronger than the old ones. I can be alone again, but I don't want to, Eli. Not anymore. And what's the point? Life needs a meaning, the meaning of mine was revenge, and it's done. You're the only thing that's left. I'm afraid for you! This is so wrong...I was supposed to hate you, dedicated my life to hating you, and now--I need you. Please, don't let Cale do to you what Montejo did to other shamans."

"Cale won't kill me," I say.

"Won't he? He killed people today. He killed shamans. You're a shaman, Eli. He's a Montejo. And if they kill you, what do I do? Living for revenge is all I know, and I can't avenge you by killing your family, can I?"

I shake my head.

Lo smiles. It's a sad, heart-rendering, pained smile. "Then you have to survive, because I can't die like this. Promise me you won't get killed."

"Promise me you'll survive, too."

"Promise."

"Promise." And Lo's kiss on my lips tastes of tears, dust, and hope.

I achieved all my dreams today, but as it turns out, for my entire life before meeting Lo, I've been dreaming about completely wrong things.

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