"Why are we waiting to fire the Cannon?" I spat, gesturing to the massive (and active) structure in the middle of the camp. The Cannon of Dark and Light wasn't that impressive to look at; it resembled more of a giant slab of metal than a fierce weapon of balance-tipping power.

     The Overlord shook his head at my childishness as he instructed the Vermillion on which tasks they'd be completing.

     "We've gone through the plan like twenty times already. The Cannon is ready. We've got the key. Everything is in place to defeat my family; we just have to actually go do it."

     "Patience, little Ver," the Overlord said. "Your scope of knowledge is limited."

     "Limited on what? We have the means to beat them now. Why are we waiting?" I crossed my arms to avoid scratching at my head. I hadn't found any dandruff in my hair since I made sure to wash regularly in the Dark Island's many rivers, yet for some reason my head was itching like crazy. Almost all of my hair had turned black over the past few days, and these strange points of discomfort were only making me more suspicious of what I was turning into. Hair color changing was one thing. A constantly itching head was a completely different matter.

     Sometimes I wondered if the black hair was like an exoskeleton that needed to be shed, and that the itching meant it was all going to fall out.

     "You are not the only mind I can speak to."

     "What?"

     "Your brother listens to me, whether he wants to admit it or not." The Overlord grinned at my shocked expression. "It turns out we don't have to move to find your family. They're coming to us."

     "That doesn't explain why we're waiting to use the Cannon," I fired back to hide my surprise. I knew the Overlord enjoyed startling me, and it was starting to get on my nerves. Just because he was big and scary didn't mean he needed to act like it. "It's not for them. It's for turning the balance back to the way it needs to be. We've already thwarted their prophecy by stealing the key. What more do we need?"

     "I know what I'm doing," the Overlord said coolly, his wings flickering with a distasteful air. I knew I was shaking, but I held my ground. Every single time he made eye contact with me I felt like I was going to die. It took all my strength not to cower to this... this... beast. He needed me to get his plan to work. He might think he was the master, but I could just as easily let the realm fall out of pettiness. Not that I would, of course, but I could.

     "Gotcha." I crossed my arms. "In the meantime, I'll go practice waiting for my 'family' to show up so I can fulfil my hubris' every want and need."

     "Watch your tongue," he hissed, reeling faster than a hummingbird to face me. His wings stretched outwards, covering my peripheral vision with only pitch black. I could already feel the anger radiating off of him in fierce waves.

     He could kill me right now, so fast that I wouldn't be able to lift a finger to stop it.

     I involuntarily squeaked, immediately chastising myself for being so weak. This is the reason no one respected me. I needed to be stronger. I needed to stop being so afraid. I needed to be more like... Acronix.

     "Yes, sorry," I ended up coughing out, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

     The Overlord surveyed me up and down, his tongue flickering in and out of his mouth like a vile snake. After a second of watching me tremble like a cornered mouse he nodded once. "Go help Acronix gather prey for the soldiers. I tire of their digging around for grubs. If they are going to go into battle, they must all be well fed."

    He seemed to be waiting for a reply, so I gritted my teeth and forced out the words, "I'll get right to it."

     He didn't move, so I ended up stalking off, trying my best not to kick every pebble in my way. Stupid vague plan. Stupid terrifying Overlord. Stupid, stupid destiny. I was powerful now. We had all the weapons we needed to stop my brothers from fulfilling the prophecy. So, why were we stalling?

     "Because the Overlord knows the consequences of messing with the balance. He's not dumb enough to try and wait so he can avenge his pride. He's got a completely logical reason," Acronix said later as he carefully detached a rabbit from one of his steel traps. I stood a few feet away from the arrogant idiot, carrying a stinking sack of dead animals. My shoulders died yesterday with all the pushups and bicep curls I did to keep my upper body in shape, yet now I was being forced to carry around a whole camp's worth of food. Actually, I doubted this large sack would completely feed even a fourth of the camp. I had been there nearly a week and still didn't know my way around it. There were so many snake soldiers there.

     "Ninjago is already on an imbalance," I retorted. Acronix carefully laid the limp rabbit in the sack before returning to reset the trap.

     "Yes," Acronix said, "but messing with it further can... upset the realm."

     I gritted my teeth, groaned loudly, counted to ten, and took three deep breaths. "How does it 'upset the realm?'"

     I swear I was going to dump the sack of rotting flesh on the next person to give me a vague answer's head.

     "I heard that last time there were distortions in the Ethereal Divide." He gently lodged a piece of bait into the trap, barely saving himself from being beaten with carcasses. "Portals opened and closed. The weather started to rapidly change without context. People started acting like zombies instead of... well, humans."

     I switched the sack to my other shoulder, trying to relieve myself momentarily of the aching. Acronix looked up from his activity right as I winced and immediately got to his feet. I braced myself to give some stinging comebacks to his pitiful remarks, only to have him lift the sack off my shoulders. He lobbed it over one of his own and gestured for me to follow him deeper into the forest.

     I just stood there, too dumbfounded to move. "Why... um... why would the realm start distorting if we revert it to its proper balance? Wouldn't that just make it better?"

     "Maybe it would make it better in the long run," Acronix replied. "But I'm guessing the minute you start firing the Cannon things are going to get messy. I'm also going to assume the Overlord is planning to trap your family in said mess while you carry out the rest of your plan. We don't know how close your family is to us right now. They could show up at any minute and potentially stop the Cannon when the distortions disappear. Using the distortions to keep them at bay is a clever idea."

     Hesitantly, I followed him further into the wood as he went to check on his next set of traps.

     "There's also the possibility that the Cannon isn't functioning correctly at the moment. The Overlord has been trying for twenty years to forge a fake key and get this machine to work. The forged key did end up turning the Cannon on, it just didn't get the Cannon to operate right. It's been having quite a few malfunctions due to that little factor."

     Acronix hummed as he walked through the woods, setting down the bag when he spotted his next sprung trap. He wiped his dark hair out of his eyes when he leaned down to dislodge the captured animal. He seemed so at ease, just wandering around and hunting. He hated the Overlord, he hated the Vermillion, and he probably hated me. Yet, he seemed content while gathering food, as if it were the one activity that he actually enjoyed.

     For a split second the obnoxious Time Twin was gone, replaced by an almost normal man.

     Then, Acronix looked at me and frowned.

     "Are you aware that you're growing horns?"

     "WHAT?" I stared at him like he was crazy, but when my fingers reached up to where my head was severely itching, they grazed two little points poking through the skin of my crown.

     I did the only thing I could think of.

     I curled into the fetal position and tried not to scream.

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

     First the black hair, now the horns. What in the world was happening to me? Why was this happening to me? What was I... what was I turning into?

     Red spots entered my vision as my panic set in. Horns. I was growing horns. Like a demon; like a monster. Like the... like the Overlord. He whispered into my head. He helped me activate my elemental powers. What if he was the one doing this to me? Was this transformation supposed to make me stronger? And if it was, then why did I have to become deformed?

     Someone laid a hand on my shoulder, which caused me to thrash out in anger. I slapped at the strong arms, but they stayed steady, grasping at my shoulders until I was forced to meet the dark eyes trying to lock onto my own. Angry, bitter tears were gathering in my pathetically weak eyes; anger at my family, anger at my alliances, anger at the 'transformations' that plagued me.

     Acronix stared at me as I lowered my head. Any other time I probably would have knocked him out with the wind. But now... he was holding me steady. I needed someone to hold me steady.

     "How much have you been sleeping lately?" he asked, throwing me completely off guard.

     "Huh?"

     "You have some seriously dark circles under your eyes."

     I sobbed, falling forward like a child. I didn't have the strength to be angry anymore. I was tired, scared, and deformed. I was never good enough as I was. I always had to change, always had to shift forms, until someone accepted me. Even now as I fought to save the realm, I was required to turn into an unlovable monster.

     I would have expected Acronix to shove me aside and spit on the forest floor. He hated me and had done everything in his power to gaslight me since I arrived. The only person he cared for was his brother; that much was clear.

     Instead, he placed a hand against the back of my head, allowing me to soak his already soiled tunic.

     It was an almost fatherly touch.

     "I know I'm one to talk," he said gently, his cracked voice barely above a murmur. "I haven't had a good night's rest ever since I left the timestream a little over twenty years ago. I still have nightmares about her, and how he discarded her right after she died for him. She devoted her entire existence to keeping him alive, and he repaid her by snapping the amulet off of her and leaving her behind. She was wicked, yes, but so devoted to the one she loved. Sometimes I wonder if I'm becoming like her. My devotion to Krux has taken me through many loopholes that I never would have gotten close to otherwise. When I was younger, I dreamt of raising a family, like many of the other elementals. That dream is gone now. It's been replaced by endless nightmares."

     Acronix did eventually pull away, waiting for me to look at him before continuing. "You have nightmares too. I can tell. My only question is: what's haunting you?"

     I reached up to finger the horn-tips again. They were rough, like uncut pieces of stone, yet hard, like a bone. Only an inch of them had actually broken through my skin, yet they felt like massive pieces of symbolism on my head. I was glad it was day. I don't think I would have been able to face the spirit with this new knowledge. Horns only had to be the first step. What would come next? Wings? Spikes? A tail?

     "I-I... I don't know what I'm turning into," I whispered, wiping my eyes with a smelly hand. I had lived in filth for so long I had forgotten what it was like to have hot water streaming down my back, the fragrant scent of soap clinging to my clothes, and the taste of food not touched by the blade of a blood-covered sword.

     I would carry out my mission to save the world, no matter the cost.

     But that didn't mean I wasn't afraid of what that cost might be.

     Acronix had the gall to half-grin. "It should be obvious. You are the daughter of Oni and Light. How could you not be changing?"

     "What am I turning into, then?" I waved my hands around. "Why am I growing horns?"

     "You are the daughter of Oni and Light."

     "I know that," I spat.

     His half-grin converted into a full one, though it was more compassionate than wicked. "You are the daughter of a full-blooded Oni and a part-Oni descendant of the First Spinjitzu Master."

     I was about to scoff at his annoyingly similar answers, only to stop cold.

    Destructor.

    Demon.

    Monster.

     Shaking, I reached up to clutch at one of the horns. "I'm... I'm turning into an Oni?"

     "That's my best guess," Acronix replied, removing my death grip from the small appendage.

     "I'M TURNING INTO AN ONI?!"

     He winced, but didn't loosen his own hold on my hand. His callused fingers were stained with animal blood, yet none of it was fresh enough to leave an imprint on my forearm. I could thrash and escape his steady grip. I could. But my shoulders were tired, and I was emotionally drained.

     I let him hold on.

     "Why?"

     He paused. "I don't know why, Ver. All I know is that your mother was an Oni and your father was part Oni. Genetics state that you have to have a decent amount of Oni blood in you. It makes sense that without a spell or experience of holding a human form that you would eventually revert back to your original, biological body."

     I started to curl back into the fetal position.

     "Though, I wouldn't be too upset. Obviously, your father's diluted blood has kept you with an appearance of a human for this long. I doubt you'll fully change," Acronix mused.

     "So, I'm going to be stuck like this. A human with horns."

     "If you really are changing into an Oni, you should be excited. Sure, you'll look different, but Oni are massively powerful. They were powerful enough to cause the First Spinjitzu Master to create elemental allies so he could win the war."

     Wait... Oni were powerful enough to stop ancient mages who created entire realms? That's how Mother and Father had always described them: demons of destruction whose power was only rivaled by the dragons. They were fearsome beings, capable of dark magic, shapeshifting, and freezing people into statues with a simple touch of the hand. To put it simply, Oni were some of the most powerful beings in existence, if not the most powerful beings in existence.

     The most powerful beings in existence.

     I glanced at the strands of dark hair that had fallen out of my braid, then at Acronix, and grinned. 

Eternal Song, we hear you.

     Eternal Song, we know you.

     Eternal Song, come to us.

     I groggily pulled my hat over my face, as if something as stupid as that would stop them. The farther we went out to sea the louder their faint calls became, until their voices drifted into my very dreams. They were calling to me, and I wanted to call back.

     It took every ounce of strength I had to resist them.

     Eternal Song, there is rest beneath the waters.

     A world where no man has ever set foot.

     You'll be free to sing, just like we are.

     Eternal Song, come to us.

     My mother had told me the story a thousand times, the story of the scandal that broke apart House Communication. She hated the woman behind it with a passion so strong, and it fueled many life lessons ranted towards me and my siblings. The scandal had cursed our line; every descendant of that elemental master had to deal with the consequences. My grandmother was burned at the stake for being an unnatural witch. My mother had to flee the city she knew as home and deal with being hated in a brand new and controlling society. I had to fight it every day and die by a prophecy, since someone making the future had finally decided to be merciful. At least the line of Communication would end with me, so no one else would have to endure this pain.

     We were called to communicate with all beings. It was in the very name of our powers. But my mother had given me one rule that I could never break.

     Never sing back to the dragons.

     They would hear any song I let out. I didn't dare let a note past my lips, since they would hear it and come. Then, everyone would know the truth. Then, I'd die just as quickly as the scandalous elemental master did after the others discovered her act.

     I wouldn't sing. Not even if my life depended on it.

     I pulled myself to a sitting position on the research room's small sofa, rubbing my eyes as my body adjusted to the simple rocking of the ship. Yes, I had claimed private room as my own. The girls and boys no longer slept in two rooms (the adults had split off from the group), so I assumed the "girls in one space, boys in another" rule was only for the hike here. No one had complained about my sleeping area so far. We'd been sailing for a little over a week now, yet for some reason I still kept stumbling over my own feet. I had never been in a boat for this long before.

     Quickly and quietly, I buttoned up a high-collared overshirt over an ankle-length mahogany dress, making sure to test the strength of the buttons so they wouldn't randomly come undone. Next, I slid my grimy stockings over my knees, tying them off with a frayed piece of ribbon to keep them in place. I gently wove my tangled hair over my ears, looping it into a bun at the nape of my neck. Finally, I tugged my hat over my head to doubly make sure everything was hidden.

     It was the same routine I had performed since I was old enough to dress. Even the clothes I was wearing now had been the same as they were four years ago when I stopped growing. They were caked with dust and blood from my adventures with the Ninja, but there was really nothing I could do to clean that away.

     With my dressing complete, I—well, I wasn't sure what to do. Morro helped me through the training sessions early in the morning, so I guess I would start with that. After training, however, there wasn't anything else the rules required of me.

     In Shadow Bay, each day was the same. I'd wake up, I'd get dressed, then I'd help my parents with their duties until it was time to stop for a light meal. On the ship, everyone mostly avoided each other and barely anyone picked up responsibility. I found Mrs. Garmadon mopping the main deck several times, while Mr. Garmadon spent the time he wasn't planning for the battle helping cook for everyone. The children did not do much, but then again, I didn't see them often either.

     Morro had been distant ever since I refused to sing. I had watched the light die in his eyes when he finally realized I did not wish for his companionship, which made me more guilty than I liked to admit. He did his best to help me memorize basic self-defense moves, but he had stopped attempting conversation afterwards.

     I was glad he had stopped trying to care for me, because despite how I acted, I did truly care for him. Morro was a delightful conversationalist, always asking logical questions and considering his words before he said them. His bashfulness helped me feel at ease, since I didn't feel awkward when he was being more awkward. When everyone else seemed to disregard me because of my coldness, he always came back. He never gave up on his hope of me being a companion, even when I did everything in my power to stop him.

      Back in Shadow Bay, community was discouraged. Community meant minds who might start thinking of rebellion against the Grand Master, which was against the rules. Individuals were encouraged to stay with their family at all times to avoid such drama. The only times we were allowed to mingle were during the harvest and summer dances, and even those were mostly intended for eligible young men to start looking for a suitable wife. If he found someone he fancied, he could apply to the Grand Master to see if the marriage could be approved. I had heard the Grand Master had a whole section of his staff devoted to making sure each match was profitable to society. While the method did work wonders, it did often end up with women marrying men they had only had a passing glance of.

     'Love' was also discouraged. Families were told to put their professions first and work together to produce the best products for the economy. 'Love' was a pointless endeavor since it only hindered one's ability to think on how to serve the Grand Master best. Besides, marriages made out of 'love' often ended up unhappy. Those were the matches where the man/woman married down their social class, which brought both parties into a lower rank. Though my parents fit into this category, I was certain that they were both happy. But they were an exception.

      It was nice for once to have someone who actually thought about me outside of my family. If I weren't cursed to die, perhaps Morro and I could have been companions one day. I would love to hear more about Ninjago City and its etiquette rules. However, I was cursed to die, so all my attempts would only hurt more people.

      If Morro didn't care for me, then he wouldn't be scarred for life when he had to kill me. He wouldn't have to struggle to plunge down the knife, pull the trigger, or feed me the poison. He could just commit the deed swiftly, then I would exit his mind forever.

      I wouldn't look at him when he did eventually kill me. I didn't want him to see the sparks in my eyes slowly going out. Morro was the first acquaintance I'd ever had, and he had been a wonderful one. Now, he was gone, and had spared himself of much more pain.

      It was what was best for the both of us, despite what my heart told me.

      The new dark-haired boy fetched me after about an hour of learning to position my feet and arms in certain directions. He stood on the deck, not offering a word, just gently tilting his head to the side. Morro silently backed away, and I followed the dark-haired boy below deck.

      Peak was strange compared to the others. His movements were often softer than his companions', as if he were afraid of stepping too hard on a figurative lake of ice. There was a sort of age in his eyes; they were the kind that had seen too much. He was also quieter when his steady presence wasn't needed. I had the keen sense that he was wordlessly judging me in the same way I judged him.

      Unlike the way Morro used to, Peak didn't offer conversation. He had appeared in the research room the evening I had agreed to train, offering me a set of chores to keep me busy during my free time. When he wasn't training, he'd work alongside me. There was a lack of companionship between us, simply because he didn't offer it and I didn't initiate. Despite this, we moved in a sort of dance, each of us silently acknowledging the other as allies.

     Today we were organizing what was left of the supplies in the lower deck. I was supposed to tally how many days' worth of food we had remaining so we could ration it out. Peak helped lift crates and open them. He almost never required me to do any physical activities. I was reduced to the simple tasks I accomplished all the time in Songdragon Bay: dusting, mopping, organizing, and sometimes cooking. The simplicity and nonverbal understanding between us were very refreshing, though I assumed Peak took charge of the chores because he didn't want to be around the others.

     The dark-haired boy gasped a little as he attempted to pry a lid off one of the wooden crates. I watched in silence, as usual, as orange-gold flares shot up his arm and the lid snapped off. I made my way over to check the contents, only to find the crate filled with something other than food.

      "Blankets?" Peak murmured, lifting up one the large pieces of fabric. It started to unfold loosely, and several little items fell out of its frame. We peered into the box to not only find lanterns, but also spare cans of beans and fuel.

     "I think this is a survival package," he eventually said. Peak's voice always had an edge to it, though that edge was more tired than anything. "A 'last minute' supply, you might say."

     I watched him go through the contents again. He picked up a few of the blankets and the first-aid kit. After handing them to me, he told me to take them up to the mess hall to see what the adults wanted us to do with them. I looked in his direction to see if he was coming, but it was clear he was going to stay down below deck until he had the contents of this box sorted out.

     I had just grabbed the handle of the door that led to the upper portion of the boat when I heard voices pass nearby.

     "She won't even talk to me now, Aureole. You just had to slip up like that!"

     "Look, I was trying to stop her from making an exponentially bad decision. I'm sorry if I got caught up in the moment. And don't go around thinking this is all about you. She won't talk to any of us. I haven't seen Shade even stay in the same room as us for two seconds either."

     "It's always about Shade. What about Carmen? Do her feelings just not matter?"

     "If her feelings matter so much, why don't you go console her?"

     Storm spluttered before shooting a venom laced answer back, but he was already too far away for me to understand it. I pressed my forehead against the door, mentally counting to ten before daring to open it. They had all been like this since Carmen's outburst a few nights back. They'd meet in groups, bickering about something or the other, though it was mostly just Storm and Aureole. Carmen didn't talk to anyone. Morro tried to discuss things with Shade, but the blonde was giving his brother the cold shoulder. Aureole thought Morro would wrongly interpret her side of the story to Shade, since apparently she couldn't see the obvious rift growing between the two brothers. And Storm didn't want to talk to his best friend, since said best friend was also his rival in 'love'. And all of them agreed that Peak was too young to be involved in this.

     It was chaotic to say the least.

     I carefully made my way through the halls, strode through a surprisingly empty deck, and sat down the supplies where I was supposed to. Mrs. Garmadon was already sitting in the dining area, so she thanked me for helping with the organization.

      I returned to the main deck to start my trip back to Peak, only to stop at the sound of their song.

      It was distant and weak, still so far away. But it was there.

     Beneath the waves we are free, they sang, free from the grasp of humankind. Free to fly beneath through the waters. Free to sing whatever song we please. Free to be of one heart and mind.

     Slowly, I made my way over to the railing. The Bounty moved slower through the water than I expected, but then again, I had been told this trip would take a little over a week. We hopefully would reach the Dark Island soon. The playful blue-green waves tossed the side of the boat, carrying a mystery beneath their surface. Even the sun was shining on them, making them seem like less of a menace, and more of a welcoming set of arms. Somewhere deep down I knew that if I called to the Songdragons, they would take me away. I'd never have to be sacrificed. I'd never have to return to the inevitable, throttling grasp of the Grand Master. I could be free, just like they promised.

      I sometimes wondered what life would be like with freedom. It had never occurred to me before this trip; I always had accredited freedom with the heads mounted on spikes. It was our unity in devotion to the Grand Master that kept us functioning as a proper society. Freedom to think, freedom to feel, freedom to speak, it would all end in chaos.

      The rules of my life pressed ever-firm against my shoulders, reminding me of what happened to those who wished for what the Songdragons promised.

      Maybe... maybe one small freedom wouldn't hurt. I took a step back from the railing, my mind whirling with endless possibilities. Ninjago City seemed to thrive well in a balance of freedom and rules. I was going to die in a few days anyway, maybe I could just allow one note to pass through my li—

     No. I would not sing.

     I scrambled to find something else—one little thing that wouldn't cause all of Shadow Bay to collapse into anarchy. It could be my and the ocean's secret. It could be our little indulgence of the calls that plagued my mind.

     Stepping away from the railing, I lifted my arms to my sides.

     Left foot backward.

     Swing to the side.

     Make sure to always dip your head to your partner, whether he be imaginary or not.

     A smile crossed my face as I continued the summer season's most popular dance. I was on a ship's deck, far away from the sweaty residents who actually knew how to accompany me, yet I could almost hear the music and yells of the enthusiastic crowd. In my imaginary freedoms, we'd have this dance multiple times throughout the season, for community, rather than eligibility. We could give a toast to the Grand Master at the end, maybe even make up a dance in his honor. In this imaginary world I didn't have to die. In this imaginary world I was laughing and interacting with people I'd never met.

     The dragons could dance through the skies with us.

     Our two worlds could be combined in a perfect harmony, like yin and yang, like light and shadow. Freedom and rules. Solitude and community. Humans and dragons.

     I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't even realize someone was clapping until I was done with the first imaginary song.

     "That was incredible," Aureole said.

     Muttered apologies immediately forced themselves through my lips, though half of them were in the native language she couldn't understand. I bowed my head and slowly backed away like every other shamed person in Shadow Bay. Only a pathetic display of weakness might incur mercy from those around us. I wasn't supposed to be dancing. There wasn't another dance until the harvest. I wasn't supposed to be imagining a life outside of the one I lived. Our world was perfect.

     I could see it now. The guards would frown, say a few quick words to each other, then approach, spears high, ready to take me away—

     "Can you teach me?"

     I paused my mumblings.

     "I missed the school dance when I was younger because Mother was taking me to a taste-testing session for a new sauce," the fire elemental said. "I've always wondered what it's like to let go for a song."

     Looking up at her, I could only find genuine intentions in her dark, lovely eyes. Aureole had a sort of beauty about her that was unmatched by everyone else on the ship. There was something about how her hair, eyes, and skin contrasted—something about how she could sound both motherly and authoritarian at the same time—something about how she carried herself with elegance and mastery that was different from everyone else. Aureole knew her place in the world and disregarded her own feelings towards her position. Despite the fact she was still brimming with anger over the past few days, she was able to keep herself in a stable mindset.

     She wanted an escape from the drama, just like I did.

     There was no one else around...

     I coughed into my mucky sleeves. "I will teach you."

     She smiled.

     I led her through the steps of the sash-dance, making sure to perform the moves as a male would so she would learn her proper part. Aureole caught on pretty quickly as she twirled and kicked with sash, her grin growing ever wider as she released herself to the dance. She even went so far as to try and find music with the same beats on one of her technological devices.

     After I was done teaching her the basic steps, I excused myself. Peak was still waiting for me. But then Storm had to walk in on Aureole's routine.

     She dragged him into her shenanigans before he could even ask what was going on. Aureole didn't know the male part, so I had to teach Storm the moves. Before I was done with him, I looked over to see Mrs. Garmadon copying Aureole's graceless footing. There was an apparent awkwardness between the two, between Mrs. Garmadon's nervous glances and Aureole's side-eyeing, but Aureole knew how to keep up an act. Perhaps she understood that the adults were just looking for an excuse to let go of the drama for a second, however brief that second may have been. The two adult males joined in (mostly at Mrs. Garmadon's urging) and by the time I was ready to get away from everyone, they needed me to stay to make sure they were doing it right.

     Then, they all wanted to actually have 'fun', like dancing was some sort of pastime for pleasure.

     Somewhere in the mess Peak had wandered in, and before I knew it, I was flying from tunic sash to tunic sash as the music carried us along. The world was a swirl of colors and music; everyone was laughing as they stumbled over themselves to dance as they'd been taught.

     I was dancing when it wasn't the harvest.

     All of Shadow Bay must be mourning of my foolish, demented behavior.

     It got worse, and worse in a way that nearly made me throw myself overboard. Someone somewhere had claimed the sashes were getting in the way and removed them. Suddenly I was brushing shoulders with strangers, touching hands with strangers, coming in physical contact with strangers. The sash-dance didn't need distance to be done correctly; the sashes were only incorporated to stop attraction based in intimacy from forming. Again, 'love' was not encouraged. It only messed with people's brains when it came to how to serve the Grand Master best. Falling in 'love' when dancing could best be avoided when your focus was on fabric rather than a person.

     I had suffered much since I was taken from my home, but this was the epitome of my worst nightmares. Intimacy bred compassion, charity, and companionship. These people were my killers. They didn't need to dance with me, because that would only lead us down a very dark path.

     The music flared, and I was handed over to a new partner. My face was starting to sweat, my cheeks turning unbearably red from stress, all I wanted to do was get away from it. I needed to get away from freedom, from people, from—

    Hands were clasping mine. They weren't loose, like the dancer was putting more focus into their next steps, nor were they tight, like a dancer who was afraid of letting go. It was almost the perfect grip, one of an experienced gentleman who knew exactly how to properly lead a woman through the steps.

    I could only think of one person who could be so naturally inclined to dancing.

    Shade.

    When I looked up to finally see my partner, he did have Shade's face.

     But not Shade's body.

     Morro.

     I teetered at the edge of nausea, vaguely considering attempting to fake-faint in order to get away from the boy. The Grand Master would approve none of my mental processes, so I steeled myself against the situation.

     Dancing was not a springboard for intimacy.

     Dancing was not a springboard for intimacy.

     Dancing WAS NOT a springboard for intimacy.

     He wasn't perfect at it by any means, but he was able to keep up with the vibrant music reasonably well. Morro did not attempt conversation, though I could tell he wanted to. His eyes kept twitching back to me despite his attempts to appear uninterested. I could tell he missed my companionship—no, that's not what he thought of us at all.

     I was his friend.

    He was going to kill me and he thought we were friends.

     If the Grand Master were dead, he'd be rolling in his grave.

     Was it just me, or did the world suddenly stop spinning as fast? The music was carrying the same set of beats as before, yet for some reason my world seemed to be stuck in the moment. Morro matched my footsteps with surprising accuracy as we danced along the outside of the groups, his hands gently applying pressure as he led me through the motions. His hands were rough, like mine, a testament to his years of working with weapons. Despite this, they were somewhat... comforting.

     It felt strange to admit it to myself, but for the first time in my life I didn't feel like I was going to have a mental breakdown. Normally physical contact sent sparks up my arms, causing me to involuntarily shudder and back away. While that feeling did emerge when I first switched partners, the longer I danced, the more it faded away.

     I was much smaller than the boy leading me, and for some reason that was comforting. He was like a steady shield against the mob of reckless ninja. He was more focused on getting the dance right than on trying to convince me to do something. Morro respected the distance I had put between us, an action so foreign to me I almost forgot why I ever put distance between us in the first place.

     Then, the music stopped. Aureole's electronic device had run out of power, so she started going through Storm's device to find more songs. The adults laughed, conversing with Peak and the other two like the dance had solved all the rifts between them. Perhaps everyone had fallen prey to the illusion of the music and swaying, and time would be the one to remind them all of the lies that had come before. Or perhaps the dance had been an accepted apology, a granted wish that they could all move forward together.

     Morro curtly bowed in my direction, to which I curtsied (it was only proper to do so at the end of a dance). A ghost of a grin passed over his face before he turned to join his friends hovering over the electronic device.

     His sudden turnaround immediately made a lump jump into my throat. My fingers twitched from where his hands used to interlock with them. I instantly felt unprotected from dangers I was probably imagining. The flutters in my stomach... I was nervous—no, anxious.

     "Wait."

     It took a good three seconds for me to realize that I had said the words. When Morro rotated back to face me, my eyes widened in surprise. I just spoke out of turn. I just spoke without being spoken too. First the dance and now this. At this rate, I was going to be an Ominiran by nightfall.

     "I... I uh..." I squeaked, for the first time since I was given elemental power not knowing how to proceed. I was unsure, and no citizen of Shadow Bay was ever unsure.

     "You have permission to speak," Morro said calmly.

     "The other day I was rude... I still will not sing... but that is my fight. It's not because of any of you," I finally said, straightening my posture and staring at the floor. "You have my deepest apologies. I'm doing my best to be true to both worlds—both my hometown and yours."

     His smile was soft, barely on the edges of his lips. His blue-green eyes were sad, but his posture suggested that he was composed. "You're good, Noria." After a second he squinted at me, "You look a bit pale. Are you okay?"

     I couldn't answer him. I was visibly trembling for reasons I wasn't sure of. Why was I trying to start a conversation with my future killer?

     "Did you need to come sit down?" He reached for my shoulder to guide me inside, but I stepped away.

     "Thank you for your concern, but I am... I am..." I couldn't make myself say it. I wasn't fine. My stomach was a mess of nerves and I felt ready to throw up.

     "Noria, you look like you're ill—"

      "Did you mean it?" I blurted out, interrupting him. I interrupted someone. I was disregarding the speech rules I had always been trained to follow. This was ridiculous. I would probably already be dead in Shadow Bay. "Did you mean it when you said you wanted to bring me back alive to my family?"

     He was confounded now. "Of course, I meant it! We're getting you home alive."

      "But... but what about the sacrifice? Doesn't someone have to die?" My words were barely a whisper as I yanked my hat down further over my head.

     "Sacrifice can mean many things. It can mean we all have to give up chocolate for a month in order to be in better condition for the fight. It can mean I'll have to walk out of the fight with a broken arm since it was shattered to help Shade win. It doesn't mean someone has to die. That's assuming the worst-case scenario."

      I wasn't looking at him, but I could sense him shuffling closer. His voice dropped in volume when he spoke next.

     "Is that what you're worried about? You think you have to die?"

     I barely nodded, and I could feel the empathy radiating off him in waves. He crouched down to my height. Before I knew it, his fingers had titled my chin up so I could see his face. Sparks ignited at the contact, making my entire stomach churn as my face flamed with embarrassment that I'd let someone get that close to me voluntarily.

     "Don't worry, Noria. You're not going to die. I—we, um... we'll protect you until our last breaths. Shade will win this fight with ease, and the sacrifice will probably be something really stupid and insignificant. Don't stress and grieve and whatnot. Just take some deep breaths and know that you'll be with the ones you love again soon." He smiled, a warm smile that turned my doubts to a weak jelly.

     I was speechless, still trying to process the point of contact, when he said something about seeing me the next day for training and walked off to enter the Bounty's cabins.

     This feeling—this fluttering of my nerves and mush in my stomach—I knew what it was.

     This was intimacy.

     This was companionship.

     This was everything I had worked to avoid.

     My prophecy stated I was to be sacrificed. What if Morro was right? What if the sacrifice was something small? What if I didn't need to be killed at all?

     The Songdragons sang of freedom again in the distance. In the last hour I had successfully broken so many etiquette rules that an Ominiran would probably respect me. Freedom was an ideal I despised and loved at the same time. I didn't have a choice. I was still held back by many things, one of those things being the prophecy that defined my future.

     Perhaps I had to let go of some of my hard-learned rules. Maybe if I embraced the freedom, then the sacrifice would allow me to return to the ones I loved.

     It was a weak, pathetic hope, but I at least wanted to try.