Blood.

     So much blood.

     It splattered against the boulder like paint, dripping down into the grainy sand below. Its iron tang filled the air as the girl's moans suddenly hitched into silence, like the impact had forced her vocal cords to stop working. She fell limp into the sands, staining it an ugly brown hue.

     Limp.

     Lifeless.

     Dead.

      I woke up for the fifth time that night, one hand around my neck and the other pressed against my forehead. As I massaged my temples, my other hand tugged the key from beneath my shirt and fingered its crusty exterior.

     I did it; I succeeded. I faced my family and won. But nothing had ever prepared me for the consequences.

      The Overlord had been pleased at my victory. He told the camp to pack up, as we'd all be heading to him at dawn the next day. I should have been excited to finally meet the source of the voice in my brain, but all I could feel was very, very tired. The Overlord was apparently situated on the Dark Island, which was at least a week of sailing if we used the speedboats. The mere thought of sitting on the cold decks and constantly getting splashed with the stinging saltwater was exhausting.

     "Can't sleep?"

     "Go away," I growled, tucking the key out of sight. My hands may have been washed, but all I could see in the key's place was blood. So much blood was on my hands. That girl... with the way she hit the boulder... she was probably dead. Then again, she could also have survived. It was plausible.

      Dead.

      "No," the spirit's tone turned cold, rendering me surprised. I had never heard him speak to me this way before. "No, Ver, no I'm not going to go away."

      "I get it. You're tethere—"

      "No, Ver. I've tried for years to be reasonable with you," the spirit's voice rose. "I've let you have a lot of freedom, and I've tried my best not to interfere."

      I barked out a laugh, swinging my legs over the side of the cot. The ground was wet against my bare feet, or was that my imagination? It hadn't rained in days. Besides, the canopy of leaves above us would hide us from any rain's brute force. I peered over the edge, only to see a flash of dripping scarlet.

     STOP THIS, VER! THIS ISN'T YOU!

     "I have let you make the wrong decisions for too long," The spirit faced me with a steely stare. "I can't just let you stand by and kill someone again."

     "Kill?" The words barely made it out of my mouth. The air smelled like blood, so much blood. "She could have lived. You don't know if she's actually dead or not."

      "I know more than I let on, Ver! It doesn't matter whether she's alive or dead. You could have killed her! She still might die because of you! Her blood is on your hands!"

      "Quit shouting; they'll hear you." I gestured to the thin tent walls, only to realize that no one else could hear the bellowing phantom. I really was going insane.

      "Where did that little Ver go?" The spirit ignored my comment. "You used to love your family. Now, you're doing everything you can to rip them apart."

     "It's for the greater good!"

     "Is the 'greater good' worth killing an innocent girl for? Be honest with me, Ver, that's what's keeping you up tonight. You're afraid that you killed her. You're afraid you're turning into a monster—"

     "BE QUIET BEFORE I MAKE YOU!" I boomed, throwing a punch straight at his green face. I must have been making a lot of stupid decisions on little sleep, since my fists just went straight through him. I tripped over my boots and fell onto the floor.

      Right as the dusty ground slammed against my face, my head erupted in pain. I cried out in agony as the pain slowly centered around one central point on my head: my hairline. With clenched fists, I struggled to my feet, pulling what body parts I could back inside the tent. The spirit stood on the floor, pity shining in his eyes.

     I spat on the ground with disgust before reaching up to touch where the pain was coming from.

     Strands of hair fell down into my face.

      Black hair.

      Scrambling to my feet, I desperately search the minute tent for some sort of reflective glass. I emptied my knapsack on the floor, knocked over various weapon sheaths, and came close to ripping down the whole tent. Then, I saw the blade of my favorite katana peeking under its hilt.

      I dropped to my knees and used my stained shirt to wipe the grime from the blade. A blurry outline of my face appeared, but it was enough for me to peer at my reflection.

     Most of my hair was still blonde. However, a single strand on my hairline had turned pitch black. I rubbed my fingers against the follicles, wishing some sort of powder would fall out.

     Nothing did.

     In the course of only a few seconds, a single strand of my hair had turned black.

     I turned to the spirit, a sudden rage passing over me.

     "What are you doing to me?" I hissed.

     His face saddened as he sat down on my cot. "I'm not doing this to you, Ver. You're doing it to yourself."

      "How dare you. The only instance of self-inflicted strange hair changes is when your hair goes white with shock. No one's hair turns black."

      "You were willing to kill in cold blood. You've started a transformation you cannot stop."

      I spluttered as red spots clouded my vision. The key seemed to gain weight, dragging my shoulders down with the force of its price. I had sacrificed so much for the good of the world. If my parents were allowed to defeat the Overlord, then the end of the balance would mean the end of everyone. One person had to maybe die in order for me to stop the death of everyone. It was worth it.

      It had to be worth it.

      The spirit was just mocking me, just trying to gaslight me. He had done this all my life, and I wouldn't start giving him half a thought now. I spun and exited the tent, ready to go spend time somewhere where I could block out the spirit's noise.

      Instead of the darkened camp, I was greeted with a lonely fire.

      A figure sat next to the fire. He was warming his hands and trying his best not to glance at me. I peered at the flickering flames, then at the starry sky above, and clenched my fists. It wasn't fair that the world had to be so peaceful while everything was falling apart.

      "How do you stifle it?" I stomped over to the figure.

      Acronix didn't look at me. He had a piece of venison on the end of a stick that he was roasting. "You mean guilt? Is that why you're bothering me at this time of night?"

     "I didn't kill her," I said, crossing my arms. "And the only reason I'm asking you is because—"

     "I'm the only one who wouldn't slit your throat for bothering me?"

      "—because everyone knows you hate being here. You probably have to deal with it daily. How do you make it go away?"

      He turned the stick absentmindedly, the glare of the fire showing off the large bags under his beady eyes. His face was all angles and lines, aged beyond its years. I imagined there was a time where some people might have thought him attractive, but his weary life had taken all of that away.

      "It doesn't leave," Acronix finally said, not even flinching when the burnt venison fell off the stick and into the flames. "It stays within you, growing and feeding and multiplying. It becomes a weight on your very soul, until it's all you can do to keep walking. One day you'll just accept it as part of you, but the pain never goes away."

     "Why are you even here?" I grouched. "Just leave your stupid brother and go join the Ninja or something."

      "I ask myself the same question every day, little Garmadon. But, unlike you, I have a loyalty to my family too strong for personal convictions to break."

      Something about being called a Garmadon made my blood boil.

      "I can only hope that one day you'll wake up from this nightmare and get out of here before it's too late." Acronix tossed the stick into the fire, watching with a saddened interest as the flames consumed their meal.

      "Everyone is a disloyal traitor," I spat, kicking dust into the burning wood. "No one cares about the good of the world."

      "Are you even listening to yourself? The Overlord cares for no one but himself. He'll stop at nothing to take over Ninjag—"

      "The Overlord is trying to save the world, you dolt."

      Acronix frowned at my tone. "I always expected that Lloyd's children would mainly take after him. It seems like you take a lot more after your mother than I thought."

      "Don't compare me to her," I seethed, purposed missing my next kick so the dirt sprayed on him.

      He laughed, but it was an empty one. "Let me guess, you think your mother was some pacifist who won your father over with kindness and beauty."

      I could hear the spirit snort from wherever he had taken to standing.

      "Well, that narrative is about as true as the one you've made up about the Overlord. Ever heard of the Quiet One?"

      "She died a long time ago," I said carefully, lowering myself to sit down on the other side of the dying fire. "A building collapsed when she was on it."

      Acronix squinted at the dying flames, his momentary silence filling the air with the sputtered cackle of the fire. A leaf flew down into it with the slight breeze blowing through the area and was quickly consumed, just like the stick.

     "The Quiet One was a notorious villain. Not only was she able to outwit the Ninja, but she was also able to take over the entire city, bring back Garmadon from the dead, and set into motion a series of events that would alter the world forever."

      I yawned, inwardly cursing myself for the display of weakness. "What are you, a history book? I've heard this story before. The lady was posing as the Jade Princess of Ninjago, blew up the palace, resurrected a bigger baddie than herself, then died while Big Bad was destroying the city. There's nothing special about her."

     "The Jade Princess had a name."

     "Obviously."

     "Her name was Harumi."

      I paused, then snorted at his ignorance. "You think you can fool me with coincidences? Seriously, Acronix, it's annoying to see people this dense. The Quiet One died a long time ago, before Father and Mother ever had children. It's not biologically possible for her to be my mother."

      "There's something not a lot of history books tell you," Acronix said. "Did you ever hear about how she infiltrated the Ninja? That part is usually left out, especially since she did more than just infiltrate. She made your father fall in love with her, then betrayed him. The worst part is, she did it all just to crush his heart."

      "And from what I've gathered about you, you haven't been in the city in years. How do you even know this stuff?"

      "You constantly call me an idiot, but instances like these prove that you aren't thinking either. We don't snap our fingers and make our vehicles appear. I was on the mainland mission for years; we burned down towns during the dryer seasons and stole supplies. During the course of those missions, I was able to get my hands on literary material. You'd be surprised how nice it is to have something to read while all the generals are complaining about everything." Acronix watched the final flames flicker into nothingness, then turned his tired eyes to the stars poking through the trees above us.

      I could feel my hairline burning as my anger towards the stubborn twin grew, so I forced myself to take deep breaths. The spirit said I was making myself change. I wanted to prove him wrong out of spite. Why did he always get to be right?

      "Harumi did die that day, but she was able to return from the dead alongside the Ghost Ninja. I'll just call him by his proper name, since 'Ghost Ninja' is so pretentious. His name was Morro."

      "Hold it," I held up a hand, suddenly feeling really sick to my stomach. "You mean to tell me that the Ghost Ninja, the elemental who unleashed the Cursed Realm on Ninjago, was Morro? Morro was the name of the person who saved my mother. The Ghost Ninja wasn't alive."

      "He was in the Departed Realm, as was the Jade Princess Harumi." Acronix squeezed his forehead, mentally counting to ten before speaking again. "Like I said, little Garmadon, they returned from the dead. I don't know what's so hard to understand about that."

      "People don't just come back from the dead."

      "You say that until you realize it's been done several times before, and that nothing in this realm makes practical sense. How is it possible I was lost in time for forty years when my powers were inside blades beyond my reach? How is it possible for a simple man to create a virtual reality so real people can actually escape the reality to play there? There is genius, and there is magic. Coming back from the dead is not impossible."

      "So..." I trailed off, my voice quieting. "The Quiet One really was—is my mother. My mother was a notorious psychopath who teamed up with an equally insane villain to resurrect herself. She not only brainwashed my father into marrying her, but she's brainwashed all of us to make sure we never see how wicked she is."

     Acronix flinched at my tone.

      "You said I was like my mother." My expression deadened. The leaves crunched against the dirt as I slowly rose to my feet. "You are saying I'm like her. Psychotic. Insidious. Evil."

      "You're teaming up with the manifestation of darkness itself. You weren't there to see what he's done to the people who gave up everything for him." Acronix met my eyes, and I found concern there. Yet, there was also hope. So much hope. "It's not too late to stop this. Return the key to your family. Become a Garmadon again. You're going down the same path I did, and it doesn't end well, Ver."

      "You don't understand!" I cried, feeling my hairline burn again. This time, I didn't care. Acronix was blind. My siblings were blind. Everyone was blind to what would happen if I didn't do this. "You'd rather watch the world die than admit to yourself the truth. You're old, stuck up, and bitter about your stupid life choices. You think if you chastise me enough then I'll become you but better. Well, I don't need your sympathy and care. I'm not a little Garmadon, and I'll never be one again. I'll do whatever it takes to stop the prophecy and save the world."

      I didn't wait for his reply.

      The trees seemed thicker than usual as I made my way deeper into the forest. My shoulders grazed the vines that grew around the trees. Tomorrow we'd leave this botanic scene and finally get to the Overlord. If I was lucky, then perhaps Acronix would be ordered to stay behind, and I'd never have to see him again.

      When I finally caught sight of a giant boulder I'd been practicing on, I clenched my fists in preparation. For days I had spent every hour training over and over, trying to make my winds strong enough to break a rock. The Overlord said it was a test of my strength. It was a test I kept failing.

      I was a failure.

      I had allowed the spirit and Acronix's words into my mind. I had allowed guilt over the girl's demise to enter my heart. Even now I was shifting and changing without my own permission, growing into the very monster my mother probably used to be. If I was going to defeat my brothers, I couldn't let myself be weak. Weakness meant more failure. And failure meant everyone was going to die.

     So much blood.

     You were willing to kill in cold blood.

      It seems like you take a lot more after your mother than I thought.

      If I could kill with a wind blast alone, then what was keeping me from breaking solid stone?

      I let my anger and turmoil and guilt fester and growing into the winds around me, letting the air help me rise. I moved my arms with force, gathering as much wind as I could to tighten around my fists. It grew stronger, struggling against my hold, its whispers turning to shouts.

      Power.

      Power!

     POWER!

     With a loud cry, I swung my arms, channeling all of my energy and rage straight into the boulder in front of me. I imagined it snap; I imagined it crack like the bones and flesh of those who dared mock me. I was powerful enough to kill.

      I was powerful enough to kill.

      I dropped to my knees, nearly collapsing from the weight of my outburst. My heart pounded in my chest, filling my ears with its ever-constant beating. So much pain was pumping through me; I felt as if I had just been forced to lift a car. I seemed to always be in pain and turmoil, like every step of my life was just an endless cycle of misery. It was my own determination that kept me going.

       It was my own triumph, rage, and bitterness that had my fists squeezing the dirt beneath me. It was my pride, stubbornness, and determination than had me gasping for air as I pushed my head up. It was my inner demons that kept me fueled as I forced myself to peek at the destruction I had just caused.

     Power.

     A light breeze glided through the area, gently tickling my ears as I surveyed the ground in front of me.

     A straight line of tossed up grass crossed through the ground, ending at the boulder. Other than that, no other plant life in the area had been harmed. If anything, my aim was spot on.

      And then I saw it.

      The boulder was sitting where I had found it, gently resting against a tree. It probably hadn't moved in a decade; it had probably spent all of its day being a source of shelter and warmth. It was one with nature, and nature was one with it.

      It had never expected for this to happen.

      Though if I had been taught anything, it was that surprise was my greatest ally.

      The boulder was split in two.

      A grin grew over my face as I greedily sucked in breaths. The wind's power was returning to me; it wouldn't be long before I had enough strength to make my way back to camp.

      Forget the guilt. Forget my family. Forget Acronix and his dirty lies.

      I was strong enough to break stone.

      I was strong enough to withstand them all.

      "I warned you of this."

      I struggled to sit up, clenching my teeth as the spirit stepped out from behind the trees. The thick foliage around us hid most of his translucent frame, but I could still make out his features. It was an odd thing to see him so clearly, so I took in every detail I could. Tall and dark-haired with even darker eyes. He looked ageless but young at the same time, with robes that reminded me of the gis Father kept in his closet. The spirit had never answered me when I asked about his appearance; most of the time his form was so blurry that I couldn't make it out at all.

      He never told me anything about himself, yet he seemed to know everything about me. It was one of the reasons I hated him so much.

      "I told you that the wind corrupts people. Sure, listening to it allows it to work through you, but power always changes people for the worse. You have severed way more than a rock, Ver." His form was growing clearer in my eyes. He was growing into a phantom instead of a faint figure that haunted me.

      He looked only a few years older than my brothers, yet his face was aged because of all the angles hidden in his stern countenance. He had the eyes of someone that had seen many terrible things, and somehow, they could reflect both that and something else. Something that looked remarkably familiar.

      He may have been disappointed and angry, but there was so much care in his eyes.

      He pitied me, he cared about who I was turning into, and he was sad to see me going where I was.

      "It's too late now, Ver. I'm sorry."

      "Too late for what?" I found it hard to talk with the pressure of using so much power still on my lungs.

      "This is your point of no return."

      "Does that mean I've grown strong enough to finally send you away?" I asked hopefully, bitterness seeping into my tone. Why did he get to look so healthy and well taken care of, while I slaved my hygiene away training to save the world? Why did everyone around me always get treated better?

      "I will always be here, Ver. I made a request, and I'm bound to that until your time is up," he said, crossing his arms and looking away.

      I groaned, flinging dirt in his direction before using a tree to finally pull myself to my feet. I couldn't even celebrate a small victory without my own hallucinations coming to haunt me. I was never free of him. I was never free of my own insanity.

      I could hear him start to follow me back to the tent, and my anger overflowed. I spun, stalking closer to him. "I am strong enough to break rock. I am strong enough to kill. Stay away from me; I don't care what request has you tethered to me."

      "Ver—"

      "Quit using my name! It's not fair! None of this is fair! You're constantly ruining my life, and you don't even have the decency to tell me who you are." I raised my arms, punching a tree to try and relieve the pain in my heart. At least if I knew his name I could swear it under my breath if I got stabbed. That would give me some consolation.

      He blinked twice, then sighed slowly. "I never told you before because of your mother. But... but she's not here now."

     "What are you about to tell me?" I rolled my eyes, putting on my snootiest voice before lisping,  "'I'm your mother's long lost ex-boyfriend who put a curse on her and her offspring.' Oh wait—what about, 'Your mother is the only one who actually knows how to send me away.'"

      His expression saddened, and he looked away. "Ver, you know who I am. Whether you choose to acknowledge that or not is up to you."

      I huffed.

      "My name is Morro," he said, watching my widening eyes with infinite sorrow, "and now you understand why your mother could never know I existed."

I was pacing back and forth, too chicken to enter Aureole and Carmen's tent again. The only time I had entered it beforehand I had found Carmen trying to feel for her key in her sleep. Aureole had to intervene before Carmen's wounds reopened from the motion. The whole time the dark-haired girl was moaning something about her parents, sounding more distressed than I'd ever heard her. Carmen had always been the epitome of confidence and rebellion. Now, without her key, she was nothing more than a blubbering mess. Granted, she was recovering from a pretty serious head concussion, but still.

     My parents died when I was young. The only thing they left me was the key.

     I buried my face in my hands. My stupid, insignificant, powerless hands.

     I knew Ver was going to attack her. In my desperate final attempt, I had thrust out my hands, hoping some sort of power would deter her wind. I had been too hopeful in that moment; I had put too much faith in the idea of unlocking powers in my time of need.

     Now, Carmen was recovering from nearly dying.

     All because I wasn't strong enough.

     All because I was powerless.

     Aureole, once she had recovered enough to walk around, spent almost all of her time helping around the camp. It wouldn't be long before Kai showed up with Peak, so she was helping Lloyd pack up the essentials. Harumi had emerged from her hiding place and joined the two. When I told Shade's mother I was glad to see she was doing better, she replied the only way to get through loss was to hold onto what you had left.

     "I still have my precious sons and husband. You all are here to fight for good as well. My heart breaks for Ver, but we need to keep going. If we don't defeat the Overlord, then she might be lost to his brainwashing forever."

     It had only been three days since the attack, and everyone was doing much better than I was.

     Well, almost everyone.

     The only time I had seen Shade since the attack was when Morro had convinced him to join the big bonfire session where Lloyd explained the whole prophecy situation. It was honestly hard to focus on the scandalous lies we'd been told when Aureole looked like she thought she was going to die, and the air was so cold I felt like I was getting frostbite.

     When it came to the son, I guess the whole situation made sense. There was always a 'chosen one', whether people liked it or not. I understood Lloyd and Harumi's motives, and I understood the vague details of why Ver could control the wind. When I attempted to reflect on these revelations, however, I found I didn't care.

     The only thing that mattered was Carmen.

     Something stirred in front of me, causing me to peek through my fingers. The girl—Singsong (as Carmen called her)—was dropping a bundle of sticks in our temporary fire pit. She had been like that ever since the attack, completing any request made of her. She gathered sticks, helped fold and wash the few extra articles of clothing we had, picked herbs, grinded pastes, and doctored up whoever needed it. On top of that, she did it all without saying a word.

     Singsong had no vigor to her actions, but she also had no reason to grieve. She was never close to Ver. Sure, I knew she was recovering from a sickness and a dagger wound, but the hunch to her shoulders made her look like she was carrying a weight too huge for someone of her stature. There was age in the worried lines in her forehead, and an almost lifeless tone to her voice. It was like she wanted to drop dead at any moment. It was as if life was too tiring for her to bear any longer.

      The person closest to sanity was probably Morro, but I never saw much of him. He would sit quietly during our meals as he always had, and most of the time one could find him out by the sea. Lloyd mentioned that Morro liked to talk to himself, so perhaps that was what he was doing. Part of me suspected that he spent a majority of his time with his brother.

     And I... I just sat outside the tent, being too much of a coward to do anything. I couldn't face her after my failure. I couldn't face the others and act like I didn't care.

     "...wawawater..." a voice slurred from inside the tent. "...AureoleIneedsomewater..."

     I flinched at the sound, suddenly feeling extremely dirty as I rubbed my arms. I had deteriorated sitting around all day. I needed to take a bath, run a comb through my unruly hair, and actually get sleep. Once the shock and grief had set in, I had turned into nothing but a self-loathing monster. Even Aureole, bitter and angry Aureole, was handling this a lot better than I was. We were supposed to be the oldest and most mature of the children, but I was miserably failing at that.

     "Wawater." Carmen tried again. "Isanyone... is anyone there?"

     Aureole was out hunting for berries at the moment, and I didn't know when she'd be back. I slowly turned my head to find where Singsong had gone, but quickly reprimanded myself for the thought. The last thing I needed to do was order Singsong to do something else.

     No one was in sight; no one was there I could ask to do the job for me.

     So, I crept over to the food supply and pulled a water bottle out of the pile. I hesitated before getting on my knees to enter, reaching up to tuck some of my unwashed curls behind my ears. When I crawled in the tent, Carmen was attempting to sit up.

     She said something incomprehensible upon seeing me, then shook her head and tried again. "Hello," she said.

     I was too focused on the makeshift bandages covering her collarbone. Ver's wind alone had cut that deep. The wind had cut that deep. Wind. If that was how much destruction a partially trained wind elemental could cause, then how much easier would it be for her to wipe us out if we faced her again in the future?

     Carmen cleared her throat, snapping my attention back to her expectant face. "...Ineedwawater..."

     "Sorry!" I yelped, scooting forward to hand her the bottle. My nose wrinkled as my own stench filled my nose, and I knew it was hopeless to pray Carmen didn't notice. Her hands shook as she lifted the bottle up to her lips. She was weakened by the attack, more weakened than the rest of us. It occurred to me that her and I just might not be able to make it through another one. If I couldn't use my powers to fight, there was no way I would be able to survive a fight against a living, breathing Garmadon.

     "I... havenotseen... haven't seen... you... yet," Carmen attempted to talk normally as she screwed on the bottle's lid.

     I flushed an unnatural shade of red. The only noises that came out of my mouth were a mix of squeaks and incoherent apologies. I fiddled with my sleeves, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than ever. I assumed that was linked to my fear that Carmen would blame me for her injuries, but then I wondered why I even cared if she hated me. She wanted to exact revenge on me, did she not?

     Memories swam through my head, memories of her smiles and laughter and determination. She was always so willing to help, always so willing to fight for what was right. She didn't care if she was powerless. She wasn't insecure like I was.

     I realized in that moment that I looked up to this injured girl.

     And somewhere deep inside of me, I wanted her to look up to me too.

     "Yeah."

     "Have you... haveyouseen... Shade?" Carmen asked, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort. "Aureolewon'ttalkabouthim."

      "Not really," I replied, inching closer to her mat. She looked a bit pale, but other than that I could still see the fire behind her eyes. She had fought to sit up, she was fighting to speak normally, she was fighting to keep up the act that she was doing okay. Carmen was a warrior. If she were properly trained in the ninja ways, she'd be unstoppable.

      Powers or no powers.

      "Do you blame me?" The words tumbled out of my mouth as I locked eyes with her multi-faceted ones.

      She titled her head in confusion.

      "I hesitated!" I cried out, clenching my fists the minute I saw them waving around in the corner of my eyes. "I listened to Ver's threats, and your key got stolen and you practically died. How could you not blame me?"

      "Wait..." Carmen's fingers gingerly touched her neck, becoming more desperate as she felt around for the chain that wasn't there. "...mykeyisgone?!"

      "Ver took it," I attempted to run a hand through my hair, but my fingers only got caught in the tangles. I must have looked like an utter disaster.

     "...mykeyisgone..." Carmen's expression faltered. She pressed a hand on where it used to sit, sinking back into her cot. "...mykeyisgone..."

      "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorr—"

      "Whyisthis... your fault?" she asked, hugging her pillow against her chest. Her eyes were getting redder with each passing second, yet I could tell she was trying to fight her own natural grief. "Verprobably... probably would have... killed me ifyou... tried to fight."

     "I tried to save you." I wiped my own eyes. "I was a moron; I thought my powers could somehow stop her. Of course, they didn't work and, of course, that resulted in you almost dying."

      "Your powers... yourpowershave never worked," Carmen pointed out. Her voice was wobbly, but somehow she still managed to keep her own tears from falling. Her hands were still clasped around a nonexistent key. The last link to her family, gone.

     "I'm supposed to be a trained elemental master!" I punched the ground, shaking my head. "I'm supposed to be able to save people with my powers. I should have been able to save you!"

     "You idiot!" she burst out, stunning me into silence. Her eyes were filled with a strange mix of pity and resolve as she threw a makeshift pillow at my face. "...ifyouhad only focused on what you can do... ratherthan what you wished you coulddo, maybe you couldhavesavedme! Everytime... every time you try to use those stupid, stupid powers, it always goeswrong. Powers don't define you! Whenareyou... when are you going to wake up and see that!"

      I caught the pillow before it hit me. Carmen let out a sob at the end of her little rant, laying back down on her cot and closing her eyes as she started shaking.

      I didn't know how to handle grief. Mother and Father worked through everything with Cole's family; I just stayed behind to deal with whatever they couldn't. No one close to me had ever died, so I didn't know how to relate to the sobbing thief in front of me. I could have just left, but that felt wrong. She was obviously upset.

      I scooted forward, gently handing her the pillow back. While she sniffled I ended up organizing the pastes and creams in the first-aid kit, feeling awkward the whole time. Aureole's side of the tent was too carefully put together for me to even dare touch it, so I ended up sitting next to the cot and staring at the tent's thin poles that held it together.

     After a while, Carmen's sniffles turned to deep breathing. She started muttering her sleep again, but at least she was in a place far away from the hurtful reality. I took that as a cue to leave, and to my surprise, Aureole was crouching down to come in just as I was leaving.

      "Storm?"

     I gestured for her to be silent. She led me a few steps away before quietly enquiring what I was doing in the tent.

      "She needed water," I said, trying to hide the embarrassment I knew was flushing my cheeks.

      "Sure," Aureole put a hand on her hip, "I know for a fact you've been in there a lot longer than 'getting Carmen a water.' I've been waiting like, an hour, to get in there and sort my findings."

      "I-I..." I couldn't meet my enquiring cousin's eyes. "I needed to apologize."

      Aureole looked me up and down, then put a hand on my shoulder. She wordlessly squeezed it to give me comfort, but I was surprised when she didn't let go. When I looked up, her lips were twitching in a half-grin.

     "W-what?" I stammered. There was nothing about the glint in her eyes that I could possibly be comforted by.

      "You know she likes Shade, right?" Aureole's voice was almost motherly with concern.

      "What in the literal world are you talking abo—"

     "You like her."

      "WHAT—"

      She laughed once, softly. She squeezed my shoulder once more and backed away. "Look, I won't tease you about it right now. I just... I just wanted to make sure you're aware that I know. Carmen's a fiery little thing, but she's also has a massive crush on Shade. It would hurt both of you if... if you got your hopes up."

      "I never said I 'liked' anyone," I started, only to see Aureole flash that knowing smile again. She nodded, waving her hands in surrender. I watched her make her way back into the tent, where I assumed she was going to quietly make sure the girl in question was doing fine.

     Only when she was out of sight did my fingers reach up to touch my own heart.

     I can see it in your face.

     What could possibly be on my face to make her think that? Sure, my cheeks were flushed, but that was from humiliation and embarrassment. And sure, I was in the tent for a while, but it was only because I didn't want to leave Carmen alone in her grief. It wasn't like I wanted to stay beside Carmen until her sobs resided because I cared about her... right?

     It dawned on me how much I had been thinking about her the past few days. I should have been stuck on Ver's betrayal, or how my whole childhood had been manipulated, yet all I could think of was Carmen. I wanted to see her laugh and talk the day away. I wanted to see her charisma, spirit, and fierce determination to do what was right. Carmen was my friend, obviously I should be concerned about her.

      So, why was my pulse fluttering as I thought of Aureole's words?

      Why did the idea of someone as amazing as the vivacious Carmen 'liking' me more appealing than I had ever considered?

      Why was it, when I thought of the one person I'd love to spend more time with, she was the one that came to mind?

      Had I actually become infatuated with Carmen?

      When I thought about her words earlier, the more I found myself believing them. Carmen was right: if I had used my physical abilities instead of trying to rely on powers that weren't there, then I could have saved her. I had to stop judging myself for something I had no control over if I wanted to defeat evil. I had to focus on what I could do, on what goodness I could cause within my own limits.

      It was time to put my failed powers behind me.

      I had to be strong like she was.

     And perhaps, if I became a hero in the upcoming fights, Carmen just might not see me in an unworthy light.