Clank!

Wolf falls to his knees, groaning in pain all of a sudden as a force from Andrew's palm crashed into his old fragile body. The bum reached for his stomach for a moment, holding tight to his flabby flesh.

Andrew looked through his lowered eyes, still holding out his palm as if another invisible flare would leap from his outstretched hand and throw him into the metal body of the trashcan again. But the thrill of that was over as the large tin bin wobbled on one side before toppling over on the cement. Contents of trash spilled on the ground right by Wolf's feet.

I felt a burning satisfaction as he fought for his grip on the brick wall. The guilt had vanished as the royalleaf boy flashed in my mind. His horribly battered body laying on the cement, a fighting spirit, and his bloodline being the only thing keeping him from finding death. It was still something about him that made him- different.

Wolf's words still sting in a way that I couldn't quite place a finger on. From his scrawny frame and way of living, I had no place to defend myself or even a common ground to start on. He was right. To me, this was living that I couldn't imagine but to him, this was everyday life.

The man pulled himself up with a grumbling, looking through his thick lashes at Andrew. He curled his lip in disgust, "It's easy to see that time has changed you into that high-class scum that doesn't remember where they come from."

Wolf shook out his thick hair almost similar to the way a wet dog would, throwing the mangled thick locks over his shoulder before tapping his fingers against the bricks. He looked over his head, clutching his side in pain. A cement archway rose up, hardly holding up with huge chunks torn from the grey weatherworn stone. Andrew seemed to calm, following his gaze.

"I haven't changed Wolf." Andrew cleared his throat, walking away from my side. "And seemingly you haven't either, I think the loneliness is taking its toll on your head."

It's was evident that the flare had been mild or either this human was simply so used to it that his skin had come as rough as leather. I pushed my hands in my pocket, trying to hide from Wolf's heavy gaze.

Wolf laughed, grabbing his chest as a rattling echoed from his throat to the windows of the buildings, dancing off the broken shards the still were wedged tight in the ledge. "I have that boy, Ash delivering my packages in secret. You should see how scared he is when I threaten him."

"Ash Grimm? Why would he have any reason to fear someone like you? Are you making up these stories?"

I pressed on, placing the name with the all too familiar face from the local news channel and even a condolences poster in the window of the police station. It was the name that "Kurtis" uttered from his mouth, begging us not to harm him. The aloof singer would bring glory to the city if he rekindled the fire in the grunge scene.

The one who nearly lost his position to Storm Jones. What could he have to do with this guy? It was uneasiness the flared in Wolf's face for a moment, a tight clenching of the jaw after he'd mentioned Ash's name. I leaned in, unnoticed by both men.

"Some things are meant to be left between the sender and the receiver. You, Anthony, are not one of them. You lost the position as my sender when you started using that magic and nearly got yourself killed." Wolf changed expressions to one one of seriousness.

"I didn't. You know that no matter the situation, I always came through." Andrew said.

"That's right, you nearly got us killed. You led that afterghost straight here. If it wasn't for Ash, we'd all be dead. He's a powerful kid, I'll tell you that." Wolf smacked his lips, voice turning into a snarl at the mention of afterghost.

Afterghost was a term I hadn't heard in years and when it was used, father always spoke about it out of context like they or it was something to fear. I was tempted to ask, but the glare in Andrew's eyes when I opened my mouth to speak discouraged me. Even he feared whatever it was.

But how would Wolf have dealings with something in the leaf world? He's human and so is Ash. But Wolf just stood back up from an attack by a royalleaf. He knows about our powers and who knows just how much Ash knows. Or what abilities either of them holds. That's why Kurtis and Georgy wanted to protect him. A fireleaf working alongside humans and fireleaves.

The word afterghost keeps bouncing around my head over and over like vibrations on a metal can. A tugging anxious clawing to know more and more about it but fall short because it was no one who I could ask that would tell me about it.

"Now, are you still going to hold the information about where my brother went?" Anthony changed the subject before the conversation got any further.

I knew in an instant that he would have kept talking if it wasn't for me. If it was just those two alone like they had been before Dad and I eventually came by bus. Either he was afraid that my curiosity would get the best of me or that he might have to explain why I knew as much as I did.

From what I knew, that wasn't taking me very far. Even if I tried to research in the family library, I would have a higher chance of reaching a dead-end than actually finding anything. I blinked and turned my attention to the pitch-black sky spotted in stars. Only they could tell answer my questions and I knew that they were speechless.

"You still have to pay me. Things don't change with time, Andrew. You no longer do services for me, " Wolf paused for a moment, dropping his gaze to the cement, "So that means that I don't owe you anything."

Andrew turned his hand into a fist, turning his back to the elder man in one quick swish of the fabric of his jacket. His other hand gripped my shoulder, "Come on, Jay. Don't give him the attention he craves."

I feel a sense of bewilderment as soon as he finished his sentence. Does he actually think he could find his brother without the help of this man who clearly knew where they went? It would be like chasing our tails at this point. In a sense, that's exactly what we're doing. Just in a more dignified manner, nonetheless stupid.

He walked, but the distance in his pupils held every doubt and the fear of being a coward in them. Each tap on the stone underfoot was filled with regret, maybe for leaving his family all those years ago or just for leaving another person behind.

Pain. I can't read his mind but it's there as bright as a light even in his gait from the crooked lips that tremble with each glance back at the older man that stood at the mouth of the alleyway, his cart still parked at the back, a waterproof shielding made of dark blue plastic half pulled up and sticking through the widened holes in the metal.

"How are we going to find Dad without an idea about where he went?" It's the look on Andrew's face that made my throat suddenly go dry. Wolf didn't wait to see us off, he turned around and ducked back through the alleyway, disappearing through a side passageway hidden away by a heavyweight plastic like the one protecting his cart.

I want to feel sorry for him but his face will forever be tied up with the blood-covered royalleaf. The pain he felt. The way he lay barely able to pull himself up without crashing back on the asphalt with blood leaking down his jaw. It was all at the hands of Wolf and his pain was all the same at the hands of his past.

"He was like a father to me, no matter how many times he scolded me or slapped me hard enough to nearly break my neck, Wolf did it out of love- or at least that's what it felt like." Andrew whispered, holding on to his grip tighter than before.

I don't speak because I'm in too much of a trance made by my thoughts and questions left unanswered. The boy's blood-streaked the cement underfoot and slightly staining the wall beside Andrew. This place now held a memory that even the rain couldn't wash away that easily.

"I saw that boy earlier, he was riding that same bike but Dad didn't want me to ask questions." I hear my own voice shaking as my finger met, lacing over each other in a nervous terror.

"Understandable. We don't make company with people who think fireleaves still living by their aloof rules are family." The cold hate is back, killing all traces of the soft gaze of pity he had given the royalleaf that laid by his feet.

My hands shake again, a soft vibration of suppressed anger wafering off my core. He's speaking about his own kind as if they are outcasts just because they choose a different life than the norm.

"That doesn't mean a thing. You would have left him bleeding on the cement just because of pride."

Andrew snapped his head back, eyes glittering in anger with the light of dull orange street light, "Pride? You really think it's called pride when I'm trying to protect us? Protect you?"

His glare burned the skin of my face for a moment, leaving me feeling vulnerable. "Yes. We aren't the only ones who need saving. That royalleaf clearly needed help and you denied it!"

"I can't believe I'm stooping so low as to entertain an argument with a fifteen-year-old who still needs help with math homework." His body grew stiff with anger, avoiding all contact with me.

"At least I helped him the best I could. Do you think he'll forget the way you stepped right over him like he was trash? What's the difference between him and Wolf, a man who would attack royalleaves?"

Andrew shook his head, "Wolf is a trusted friend."

"Who deals with fireleaves on a daily basis."

The conversation ends before I can even ask about Ash Grimm. We walk on past an array of buildings that were still marked with banners beginning to fade away. Colorful ink dried to the ground, trickling down the smooth stone walls. Mixed green and teal swirled like a poison of some kind on the ground, creating an artwork of both nature and human hands.

Potholes dotted the cement like moon craters, the lights turning the sludge-filled water silver and gold. Only light traces of the buildings flanking each other in a near obsidian hue reflected from the puddle. Weeds poked out from the cement, their bright yellow color made them look like miniature stars.

It would take more than two glances to find the beauty in this dead alley and a blind eye to ignore the old rat chewed cords and old cigarette butts that littered the ground and spilled out of windows.

A shrill call tore both our eyes away from the wide alleyway that stretched out forever towards the moon that looked like an ornament on a Christmas tree. Thick black wire exposing white and blue cords hidden in the black shook under the weight of a giant crow. It's talons gripped onto the wire, while wings similar to sheets of silk wavered in the slow blowing breeze.

Two eerie black pools of chasm for eyes held on to stars made of an unnatural gleam. The bird's beak was half opened, exposing the tip of a flicking pink tongue as its head cocked. I wasn't sure if a bird could show signs of curiosity but the way that it moved was nearly mimicking a dog's curiosity.

Andrew looked away from the animal, returning to his mindless sulking. I followed, but the bird batted his wings against the air before jumping off the line. The line rattled with relief. Watching it, the bird dipped over our heads only a few feet away before flying up towards the sky and faltering again.

"Just a bird, Jay." The first words since our argument come out in a hushed tone. A beat of silence passed, only the steady beating of wings and soft caws filling the air above. It landed on the glossy rooftop of a house to the left, perching despite the smooth metal.

"Andrew? If you knew about Ash, why didn't you say something to Kurtis?" I whispered through the silence, allowing him to answer at his own time.

He hesitated for a moment, rubbing his fingers across the bridge of his nose. It's hard to know if he's still upset or calculating how bad he'd messed up. I know I should be at home, tucked in bed for another day at school. Even if my dreams couldn't consume me, I would have been in the book room, trying to figure out the meaning behind the picture that Georgy and Kurtis had left on the coffee table.

Andrew would have done his job as the loyal brother of Dale instead of cowering to his niece who was now covered in the blood of a person whose hands should have never touched the skin of.

"What was I supposed to say? I've pretended like I didn't know him for nearly six years, what would it look like if all of a sudden I bring up every lovely memory we shared?" He waved his hands with sarcasm, sighing after dropping them to his side.

"I honestly don't know. They just looked so desperate and had a strong belief that Ash was tied up to Storm's murder."

For the first time in a while, Andrew gave a genuine laugh. "Who? Ash? That kid was all about doing right, off course, he did fight a few enemies but all with good reason. Either the Storm girl threatened him or those two or he isn't one who did it at all."

I retain a half-smile that attempted to crawl on my face despite the seriousness of the situation. Perhaps, we won't run into anymore disagreement before we can even find Dad in the dark maze of concrete.

"So was he anything like Kurtis?" I asked.

"Why do you call those two Kurtis and Georgy? You nicknamed them or something?" He chuckled, clapping his hands together.

"No, that's what they wanted me to call them, I imagine that it must be horrible going years with an actual name to be called by."

The crow swooped down again, a flash of black in the side of vision. Black feathers flew up in the air, claws flashing in the dim moonlight. Andrew gasped, interrupting the bird's perfect dive. I was taken back in awe, a tiny brown creature scurried out from behind an old tin can, pushing towards a large yawning opening in the opposite building.

The mouse didn't give the bird a chance to snatch up sluggish prey, it seemed that if the raptor wanted it's flesh, work would be involved. I leaped back, the rat plunging towards me with a change of direction. I brace myself to feel the cold paws of the rodent with a pulse like ice.

The tip of soft wings fluttered against my skin before claws stuck the small animal only inches away from my shoe. A scream of death was the last thing before the crow lifted his scared beak to the sky. Ruddy poured from the small animal clutched in the crow's grip. The mouse struggled but with one swift peck, it fell into a cold stillness.

The crow raised it's head to look me straight in the eyes, ruffling soft feathers underlying it's wings. The mouse lay dead, dried puncture wounds deep in the brown flanks. All alert had been reached from the bird's blank eyes. 

"I've never seen a wild crow do that-." Andrew took a step back before I could even notice the hand clamped down tight on my elbow pulling me back into the shadows of a towering dumpster.

"Rooonnniiee. I Rooonniiee." Wings spread wide like an umbrella after bobbing it's head over and over, the obsidian black crown of feather around it's head shifting to a bright green reflecting off the pitch black.

"Who's Ronnie?" My uncle was taken back by the talking bird. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for a crow to mimic simple English but this one was mimicking anyone.

"I Rooonnniiee!" The bird screeched in a squeaky voice, bobbing again in annoyance. Hopping across the grey, claws scratched the stone repeatedly before the tail of the mouse was hemmed tight between the back of the beak.

Ronnie flew up towards the end of the passage in one swift motion, the tiny rodent dangle by the tail before flipping under the drifting wind. Black feather blew off his ruffled back, falling straight to the ground slowly. The mouse dropped right in front of our feet with a light thud.

A gift.

"Folllllloow!" Ronnie cawed with a purr-like sound following the prolonged word. He repeated it twice before flying back to the end of the alley, landing on the smudgy grey roof.

His crying filled the night, hitting the windows, bouncing off the black, starlit sky, and echoing through the dark space like a broken record. Andrew never looked so confused, hidden fear of just what the animal's purpose was failing to keep concealed. His eyebrows seemed to knit together as he watched the bird from afar.

"You think we should follow it or no?"

A flicker of concern ignited in him at the question. He looked from me to the crow, now complete radio silent. The bird watched us from above, his rocking stilled to that of a miniature statue. I wanted to reach my hand out to the bird, extending my arm to a perch.

"Jay, this feels wrong. Like whoever is behind it has a sketchy agenda that doesn't include lending to us honest help." Andrew croaked, gesturing towards the night-black crow.

I nodded, reminded that I know nothing beyond the obvious that is sat before me when the solemn doubt is all that my uncle can muster up.

"Who is your master?" I called to the bird who flapped his feather similarly to a chicken at my asking. It leaped off the roof, drawing claws against the metal with soft clicking. Ronnie dipped down, wings pulled into his flanks to land only inches away.

Ronnie shook himself out, "Fooolllloowww!"

I lowered myself on my knees, ignoring Andrew tensing beside me. Ronnie hopped back, screaming at me. His beak shut tight after he saw that I wasn't displaying any fear towards him.

"Jay, what are you doing?" I'm not sure if it's an alarm in Andrew's voice or sheer curiosity but whatever it is, I try my best to block it out.

Ronnie flew up the closer I got, lifting higher to the sky than I could ever dream of reaching. Not even with powers could I reach the floating clump of wings that nearly turn translucent with the sky as a background. A large feather fell away from his tail, floating downwards slowly.

The stars threw their weak singular light on the vane and clumping in shimmering white and gold along the long rachis. I reached my hand out to catch the floating object. It landed on my palm slowly, setting down and tickling the tips of my fingers.

A burning sensation burst at the lines of my palm, racing back and forth like flames to a match tip. I snapped my head back, wailing loud enough to rattle windows. A spasm shook my arms and veins, turning my blood into an icy cold liquid. Only glimpses of Ronnie through my half-shut eyes let me know I was alive.

Andrew's terrified voice disappeared into echoes as if he was slowly getting farther and farther away even though he was closer than the wind blowing against my skin. Flashes of gold colored the lids of my eyes in a beautiful crashing streak.

Flashes of light bathed my eyes, flares of every color possible dancing and fading away. Shadows haunted the haze of colors, making them dim but they still glowed despite the cloudy fog.

I'm nothing but an image of what was when the explosion of colors had died away leaving a completely black square room surround me besides a tall rectangular box reaching to the ceiling, lining itself with the corners of the wall it was placed on, narrowing with the drop to the floor. My reflection stood in the glass of the object against black. Nothing but an empty void.

I want to talk, scream, or do anything but nothing happens. My throat is rendered useless now, all I can do is look straight into my own eyes. Two green eyes watching me like they weren't apart of my body. I'm not even sure if the girl in the mirror is me or a figure with her own soul.

My fingers shake against the pressure of the cold room that slowly freezes my light as a feather body in this strange place. It harnesses a feeling that I've never felt before. Foreign and strange like the array of embers that had once surrounded me instead of this ink room.

It takes me a while to notice that arching towards the ceiling was night-black pillars holding up the wall and flanking the large mirror in the middle of the wall like towers of obsidian stone melted to shape.

I turned my sights back on myself as flashes of forest green shaped around my core, gleaming at my belly and stopping right below my chest. It's as if the shatters of a broken street light had been resurrected into a power. It reflected off the grey fabric of my jacket, which was worthless against the bone-shivering cold that was slowly eating me from the inside.

The girl in the mirror mimicked my every move, pity for herself haunting her expression and sadness creating dark pools under her eyes. It's depressing to look at her and the dark spirit who is gradually falling away from the facade of the happy girl in New York City.

Every flaw was outlined just for me to see from inside out. The sunburn on my forehead that stretched across in an uneven patch, the streaks of black that mixed with my brown hair in ugly uneven patches, and the past. The orange and auburn flames that licked at the sky that had once sheltered me. Every dead body that was dragged in. All the fear.

A smile sneaked on the face of my reflection, not by my own will but that of the girl in the mirror. She's me, but then again- she isn't. I don't see the person I wake up to in the morning. Every single morning. What I see is everything I don't want to wake up in the morning to. To the flaws and the pain. Regret.

"Regret is a dangerous thing, Jay." Forced to drag my eyes away from the mirror, two familiar faces welcomed me from the far end of the black space. Kurtis and Georgy. Their masks of calm don't waiver once, not betraying any true emotions.

The soft voice belongs to Georgy, a warm affection deep in her voice that's near motherly. It's easy to feel soothing when she speaks, so welcoming.

"Why are you two here, this doesn't make any sense. Both of you were with my father only a few hours ago." Reality hits like a hammer to the heart even with doubt of any of this being real. How easy a sweet seeming voice makes you believe someone is an angel.

Kurtis gave me a half-smile, looking off, "Nothing in this life makes sense. It was time we departed your father and contacted you. I hope that you found the letter we left you."

My fingers tighten around the paper that's in my pocket even in this place. The deep-drawn art rubbed against my hand. Pulling it out, I held it out for them to see. They both exchanged glances that held a hidden dialogue that only they understood. Nervousness crawled in my belly as soon as they looked back.

"Do either of you have the time to explain what any of this means?" I attempt to complete the sentence just as I had just done but it turned into a wheeze. A tang like sucking on a silver chain lurched from deep in my chest, bubbling similar to the way a soda would.

Kurtis rushed to my side, his lips trembling as red exploded from my mouth, painting the pitch-black floor with my blood. Georgy produced a napkin from the pocket of her dress, following Kurtis. With her hand holding up my head from the side, I sunk to the floor with knees of melting ice.

"The only way to truly understand it is if you figure out things for yourself. Hard work and understanding will make you more grateful for the future to come." George swiped her napkin across my lips.

My emotions collide in a flare of both anger and overwhelming confusion. Just having the both of them stand beside me, keeping their mouths shut just so I could play a stupid puzzle of a game. A war with my rising heat that pushes past the blood in my throat urges me to pass out into another dark space.

"No!" I snapped defiantly. I'm not even sure where it comes from but before I can stop it, Georgy catches a fat droplet of blood running down my jaw.

"No?" Kurtis questioned, pulling my arm over his shoulder to give me a safe letdown.

"No! No! No! I won't be the one gluing together your jigsaw puzzles, all I want is to know that my father is okay. That's it!" I feel selfish without the full context. Evil even.

"Please think about this. Just take the time to understand just why you must end the cycle. Why our souls need peace, yours included. We need peace." The sadness in the droopy blue eyes of Kurtis makes the idea of eating up every "No" I screamed turn into a good idea.

Tears fall down my cheeks as dark spots cloud my vision, "I-I don't understand! Just help me figure out something. Don't leave me alone like-."

My mother did. I can't say it but I know that they understand without me even saying it.

"I don't think you would want to volunteer your mind to such a thing without gradual consent." Georgy yet again denied me my request. Streaks of pain tightened near my throat, pure blackness crashing down in heavy tar-colored waves.

"I volunteer my mind! It's mine to volunteer as I please and that is my set-in-stone demand!"

White light erupted through the ceiling in cracks when the last words slip off my lips. Jagged cuts through the black above gave birth to fluorescent white bodies of light fading out the back walls. My hands and face grow completely numb in an instant, following the suit of the shaky ground underfoot.

Thin sheets of the black flooring lost their grips, flecks of shimmering gold flew up for a few moments with the fall into the void below of nothing but a white so plain that its mind-numbing. Each golden spark faded away to a slow dimming death of light.

Chanting broke out from beside me, in near-perfect sync, words turning into entire phrases filled the room over and over similar to a stadium, bouncing off what was left of the walls on either side.

"Please! Please! Please! We beg the dreamscape to open it's gates. Pour down white the color of life and flush out of night-black of death that all souls must face before and after their time until they are released."

Kurtis was outlined by the dazzling light with the brightness of a million fireflies dancing on his skin and empty eye sockets filled with lights that reminded me of the headlights in the city that turned grey cement into a heavenly path.

Georgy followed the same, neither the less just as beautiful. Like gods. All emotions had drifted away from me but the mirror still stood only this time holding someone else. Swirls of darkness rushed around the tall man's shoulders, gripping his throat while blood fell from his gaped mouth. Empty hollow eyes gazed straight into my face, unmoving.

Long locks of black hair curved down his shoulders, matching the night-black pupils trapped in a dying green circlet. Smudged mascara flecked under his eyes, dripping down his pale cheeks. Piercings under his lips glittered silver in the light that bounced off the glass.

His hand reached out, pleading to be freed from the mirror. A gorgeous ghost made of everything that I hated about myself. He wore it inside. The glass shattered at the touch of his index finger, disbursing the image into a million shards.

And with that, I fell into nothingness. Falling and falling with the crashing planks of the floor. It gripped my windpipe with a rush of air beating on my eardrums. My outstretched hand waiting to be grabbed to haul me from this nightmare was the only thing I could see besides a flash of white light above. Just a small crack in this void. The air grew arms, sucking me farther down into the void by the feet and wrist.

Fragments of glass shards twinkled above my floating body suspended on nothing but ice-cold wind. My chest screamed for freedom against the pressure of the wind below that sucked me into the darkness of this new world.

A ragging sea of the glass falls faster than the air itself, swirling around my body like claws aimed for everywhere but my body. I open my lips to call out to the scape that had once been under my feet, holding me and the reflection of the man trapped in the glass mirror.

Blazing pain sears my neck but it quickly subsides as glints of gold hit the silver and white side of the falling shards that remained. The blackness that engulfs the gold beams grabs my legs and throws me upright with twists of invisible arms that nearly tear my shoes from my feet.

"Help!" By default, through tears that blur my vision, I call for a person to reach out with strong hands and pull me down to safety. They don't return with reassuring shouts through the midnight fog but instead, only my voice reimburses as an echo.

I close my eyes and slip into a form of unconsciousness that lasts for less than a minute. My eyelids are ripped open by some concealed force and yet again met with pure obsidian black walls that reach up forever.

Who knows when the ground under my feet gave away? When the floor made of black glass shattered and tossed me down into an empty vacancy of pitch black. I don't remember anything. Never have I ever been trapped in so much darkness and swift-moving shadows that live even behind my eyelids.

It takes me a moment to notice that I'm no longer falling, that I'm flat on my feet as I had been before I fell, except, this time it's truly nothing to see in the void. Just pitch black haze and gust of air that move alongside shapes that I fear to even catch a glimpse of.

The shadows flashed past, doused in a grey fog and black fillings creating shapes striding with carelessness on legs of four. Each of the two shapes turned their narrow midnight grey faces towards me, jagged teeth-like objects in a row of elongated needles. Short stubs hanging on the back of sloped rumps moved awkwardly, slow and steady.

Green dots shimmered in a black veil, a beautiful and haunting point of color for the silhouettes. One lifted its nose, a new pale silver light glinted down its long black snout, giving a new perspective to the light brown fur outlining its broad chest.

"Hello?" I whispered through the expanse, but only my voice came back to answer. The word bounced off the straight sides over and over, back and forth in a way that I couldn't escape.

Craning my neck against the clasp of the cold air that lifted the hair on my skin. I could only see flashes of a steady burning flame at the end of the darkness. Flares of orange and auburn flew up towards the charcoal ceiling, slapping the flat stone before losing life in a matter of seconds. I inhaled the stale, pungent smoky scent on the air, watching as the grey puffy clouds climb up the walls.

The dog pulled his fangs back as one hit his nose, disbursing into a million smaller veils of mist. Discouraged from sticking his nose close to the flame kept alive by a large pile of what looked like tree bark rather than actual logs and wood, it backed back. Paw after paw until he was back into the main view.

Its nose twitched, looking back to the nearly identical one only a few strides behind. The flames grew brighter the more it consumed the brown bark chips with hungry jaws of uneven orange and scarlet fire. I don't feel afraid but rather, almost comforted by it. My eyes make out pillars etched in lines, an uncountable number of tally marks covering the cement.

One.

Two.

I don't even keep counting when the others appear in the bright light of the flame. They are all dug deep into the stone with effort, in rows of seven. All except for the first two above the full rows. Voices echoed through the hollow walls from the upper chamber that nonetheless were dark, dancing with shadows that are too animate to be human.

"On my que, you'll pull the stone out of the pillar and run like there's no tomorrow." Soft murmuring bounced off the smooth cement walls.

It's a man's voice, rough with the coming of adulthood. His voice holds on to fear but deep in the sentence, it's easy to see that some kind of courage was overpowering that terror. I've heard the voice before but I couldn't place it with a face no matter how hard I searched my mind. To no avail, all the faces started to blur together in one large haze of scarlet and grey.

My sights drift back to the fire burning steadily at the end of the tunnel, keeping the dogs at a distance, just far enough from hitting them with hot radiation of heat flares and air-driven sparks. A soft roaring echoed from the core of the fire where the pile of bark had turned into midnight black ash lit by a blazing orange.

They fear fire. Or at least what it does to any creature with a brain.

Another voice from the corridor followed, female and sweetened with a whisper like wind drifting through leaves. "Only if it was that easy, Adam."

A stick laying against the curved cement caught my attention over the large ears of the giant dog, beaming streams of lights from overhead revealing a claw mark slicing the grey stone from the speckled night sky. The glint filled each dip in the thick pole

The flames burning my home. The long oak that held on tight to the flames with a death grip as my father dug his nails into the wood. Tips of his fingers turned red under the pressure of saying goodbye forever.

Puffs of black smoke billowed up from the tongues of bursting orange fire shooting up a spark for every tear I lost. Every person who'd I would never see again. Coats of ash touched everything, turning my world into a ray of tar and seared rubber.

Everything was gone. Everything. Is. Gone.

The ground heaved with a mighty roar, throwing my locked muscles out. My stomach lurched, dislodging invisible restraints from every inch of my body. Shocked and appalled by the force of freedom, my back slammed into the cement wall with a groan. I cry out in pain, but the people on the other end of the tunnel don't seem to hear.

I hardly have enough time to gather my thoughts before the largest dog stands with a slow sinister wag in its tail. A pink tongue slipped from his jaws, hanging between a row of fangs. The other followed, lifting himself from the smooth cement.

Muscles bunched up under a black pelt with green eyes shining through the fog of smoke. White saliva dripped like rains of seafoam from their jaws onto the cement in a continuous fall. Their bodies were bullets tarnished with rust on the slick metal that made up for silky bulges of fur.

Growls echoed off the walls, ringing in my ears with each rumble that drowned the noise from the upside of the earth and my heartbeat. My breathing turned into silent calls for help that don't exist on the part of the universe. Fear had come and bravery was lost to every tooth that was about to stick into my flesh.

Tall ears in the shape of rectangles shifted to blurs of fur as the paws of the huge Doberman lifted from the ground and plunged into the air with nails aimed straight for my shoulder blade. My fist landed square on the animal's chest, knocking him off his paws for a few moments.

I doubled over, moving away from the pounding of paws on my trail. A bark cut off the left, shaking the embankments with its cry for blood. My feet protested for a stop, making an agreement with my heart built on terror and confusion.

Why am I here?

Stick. Flames.

I need that stick.

I pushed off, screeching in pain as soon as I noticed just what reaching for that stick had caused me. Fur brushed my skin in a matter of moments, teeth flashing as they tore from the mouth of the largest dog and buried themselves in the flesh of my forearm. But blood didn't drip from the deep wound, only pain, and confidence. Love and reason. Every reason for fighting disappeared in the exact moment that the dog bit me.

The stick was an enemy now, bestowing pain on me that now wasn't worth fighting my way to freedom. Why are you here? Who are you? A blur of grey took over my sight as the dog kept biting at my skin, snarling in defiance everytime I pulled away in agony.

Slick fur on the dog's strong neck pulsed with power, flicking every muscle as a show of power. Fur rose down its spine as a gasp tore from my throat through numb lips and tongue that made a quick death seem like pleasure. The other dog bowed his head to the ground, watching and waiting with the red glow of the flames caressing his narrow face.

Lips slowly peeled back from hiding the white teeth in a fearsome grin that could kill like cutlasses to the heart. Its eyes moved from my face to my neck in nearly an instant with a slow step forward. Paws landing carefully with a slowness that most would agree is the long song before death.

And I agree with them.

My hand reached forward, pinching the wet black nose of the Doberman still holding my flesh. At first, nothing happened but a painful release of flesh, only halfway but finally, with more effort the dog sub came to the pain on such sensitive flesh. A gash was left on my arm, but it looks more like a healed wound. A burning sensation danced around the area, but pondering over it wasn't the thing to do now.

That's what your father would say.

Father. I remember. The reason why I came to the alley was for my father. That's all I remember. But it's something and that's enough reason to get that stick. Enough reason to get out of here.

The word "Father" bounces around my head, the only thing worth holding on to if nothing else can stay in my grip. My left arm balanced me, helping me stagger up with my gaze on the stick and nothing else but its ragged wood and the flames that I can already imagine on the other end.

With the teeth and the horrid pain like no other fresh in my mind, I tore away from the dogs who'd already gained speed in heading towards the spot where I had once been. Their heads were both dipped down, skinny shapes leaping at the center.

A yelp of shock rung through the space, two bodies colliding in mid-air and fangs blindly landing in each other's pelts. Claws tore through perfect black and left marks of bare pink welling with ruby red blood. It was almost like their anger was held as a higher priority than common sense and loyalty. They held on, only the roots of their white fangs peaking through the thick black.

They bled but I didn't. Red trickled down each other's jaws, adding a touch of color to the foam at their thin lips. Green in their eyes turned into pitch-black eyes aglow. I remember seeing those eyes before on paper from my past. Another memory.

A drawing of a man with dark black eyes and a shotgun in his left hand, the butt of the light brown shaded weapon pressed to the ground as if posing for a picture. I couldn't figure the man's motives, but it was almost as if his eyes were gates to the souls. Fireleaf. The bold words under the artwork. Even in my mind, it was as if I was young again, curled up beside my father on the couch. I was scared.

Hiding from the hideous monster in the drawing that would haunt my dreams until I forgot that the image in the book my father called "Propaganda". I didn't believe that the artist could possibly lie about such a life-like art. From the hands gripping the gun to the wicked smirk, I thought it was real. That fireleaves looked just like that in the very same torn leather vest with wide holes from unwinding in the seams. Old, worn-out pants with dirt staining the knees.

Why would a royalleaf with blood like me fable about people who've threatened us for centuries?

Cool wood with deep wedges settled in my hand, warm like the flames that growled at my arrival. The flames ducked away at the wind before returning as bold as ever. Only a few unconsumed pieces lay at the edge of the flames, tared just by the heat. Just moments until the other pieces would turn into a pile of ash.

A dog lifted himself from the ball of fury, tracing his tongue repeatedly over bare skin. The other, looked straight at me, claws scraping on the cement in a soft clicking repeatedly. Each tap was a moment lost, another coiled muscle, and one more chunk bark turned into nothing but hunks of black.

I pushed the stick forward, dismissing the heat burning at my fingertips with every lick. My teeth grinded against my gums, leaking a pool of saliva at the dam between my lips. For the first time, the pain feels real in this illusion. The flames don't feel like a simulation of what real-life might be like, but is.

I'm no longer dead anymore, a walking ghost but I'm Jay. Not grove Jay or New York City Jay. I am Jay. A flicker of light broke free from the blaze, kissing my skin just like my past. Marks of black decorated my hands from finger to wrist, exploding into flares that seize my skin and underneath. The injury is almost like beautiful works of art pulsing through my skin.

Swirls of orange fled from my fingertips down to the flames at the end slowly taking away the tip and turning it bright red. When electricity had normally run from my fingers with the right forced persuasion, here were bursts of sparks mimicking the fire below my hands and melting the rubber soles of my tennis shoes into white gunk on the cement.

But I kept going. The foreign feeling raced down my chest and my limbs, spreading like the flames eating away at my pole steadily. Maybe, just maybe something about this was right. The large dog jumped, paws downward with the same use a raptor's talons.

I screamed. Flares exploded from my fingers for the last time, enveloping the large fire below before I gripped the pole and identified my enemy. Searing burns came alive with the blow of air against my skin. The light is so bright that I closed my eyes and let my hand guide me.

The stick rammed into the dog with a swift crackling of flames and the scent of burnt fur. The tip of the stick snapped against the force of the dog's body rolling into the flame-worn wood. The orange claws warmed my face, but this time I'm not filled with bitter sorrow or joy either. I feel different. Older.

A howl shook the tunnels, nearly as loud as the flames roaring through my eardrums and using them as drums. The rush of crepitation fills my senses with nearly black smoke that disoriented my sight, giving everything, including the flames a grey colorant. Then as soon as the moment of glory faded reality punched me like a fist to the nose.

I'm weak. This isn't reality. Those voices that you heard can't be real. These dogs can't be real either, the same way that my wounds didn't spare blood.

My fingers start to tremble as the truth of the matter stuns me and the flame at the end of my pole fades away just like my confidence in myself. The voices down the rounded foyer of tunnels come again but this time blended in one large sentence of nonsense. Even the man, whose voice carried a familiar tone was stretched and distorted.

The stick fell on the cement, slipping out of my hand without warning into the flames that had once given me courage. Even the sight of the dog shivering in irritation with a deep redness where a patch of fur had once been on its neck leaves me empty. Black patches seared the pink outlines of the burn. Regardless, it's something missing that place is hiding from me that takes away the reality that made me feel worthy.

Fragments of broken courage make the other dog seem like an unbeatable boss. It cowered down, eyes lowered to look at me and back at the larger dog, the big bad wolf who was too busy licking wounds. Backing back, paws keeping a steady speed and feet between us.

My back drips with sweat as the fire gets hotter and closer to my skin than before. I flinch against the warmth but I know it's not real. Nothing that makes this place or the feelings that it evokes are lasting. My eyes flew to the ceiling above, glitching with mixed pigments of violet and orange between the ripples in the sea of gravel.

Tears from the back of my eyes threaten to push themselves forward but they don't fall or even come forward. Instead, they stay positioned in a place where they can be felt but at the same time fill me with burning guilt I don't comprehend. Black fog collected in the corners of my sight, crowning this moment with a taste of shame.

Wolf's statement that came out as a taunt nips me worst than the Doberman did to my skin, "The freedom and pampering."

The fact was that I'm none of those things in the perspective of most people I knew, but to him, I was nothing more than another spoiled kid with nothing to worry about. It hurts because I wish it was truth in his statement rather than assumption.

I can't change things and hell knows that if I had the freedom to right every wrong thing that my kind did in the past, I would. Wolf might be old, but that doesn't make him less of a fool. Less of a man blinded by his own misfortune to someone else's struggle.

Suddenly, I remember the mirror and person who looked back at me through the glass. Everything about his outside was beautiful but his inside expressed itself like a wide-open book from his sad eyes and droopy lips that created a frown that was both welcoming and empty all the same.

I understand that feeling more than ever.

The place shifts again into foggy grey and dark hazy orange like the flames that still burn as relentless and hot. Not under my control but at its own will. Everything loses shape before me, turning into fluid that drowns my feet in a mix of dull colors. Numbness makes it impossible for me to feel anything and I'm left dumbfounded. My eyelids shut down tight by force and I let go.

No more dogs.

No more fire.

No more tunnels.

No more anything. And yet, I don't understand or grasp anything from this place.

The heat that rose at my back fell away, eaten alive by whispers of air that clawed at my falling body. My hair coated my cheeks, tickling at my nose and lips as my body twisted upwards with an angry yank.

Air. Cold.

Atmosphere. Cement.

Air. Hands.

Hand. Feather.

I stare at the crow feather in my hand, the tip tracing my fingers almost by it's own will. I'm back in the alley, with my uncle talking pure worried rubbish. The streetlights turn the feather silver and white in patches. I looked straight to the building where the crow had once sat but nothing was there. Ronnie was gone but had left evidence that he was more than a fever dream.

His existence yet feels empty and lost into eternity. Speechless, Andrew's shoulder slide under my arm. He fell silent but I protested when he turned back towards the way we had came. Dull light stretched out across the sky, giving light to greyish halos of clouds. Outlines of pale gold shimmered at the black creases.

"No." The word now felt like a key to unlocking privileges. To getting my way and holding a knife to the opposing's throat.

Sunrise was approaching faster than I would have expected but with the passing out episode I just had, who knows how long I had spent clawing for freedom in the dreamscape. Kurtis and Georgy's voices rung in my head along with the silent repetitive "No."

Andrew halted, turning back to me for only a second. Now that his words actually made sense, they still aren't the ones that I want or need to hear from him.

"I don't like this place." Uneasiness haunted his voice, "You aren't okay and clearly it isn't smart to push on with-."

His voice drones on to stop with a cut off from my own pulling away, leaving his arm in the air without a proper warning. The shock left his mouth partially opened by the revelation that I was more than fine. Maybe even better than at the start. I turn away from his shocked expression, gazing towards the path again as if it was the flames that tore from my skin and mingled with the already growing flame pile.

"I- I don't understand. Just a few moments ago you were laying flat on the ground, barely moving. Now, you still wanna push on with morning on top of us?" Andrew breathed the entire argument through one shaky breath.

"Andrew, I can't explain the crow but I do know that it has ties with Kurtis and Georgy. I interacted with strange things in my- uhm dream." I slowly lost confidence in my own words.