Back at camp, Mark stood over one of the two small gardens. They were planted in rows, mostly with cabbages, because those were some of the few seeds they could actually find.

"Everything's getting way faster now," Landon said, glancing over the rows.

He'd been helping in the gardens for weeks.

"Now that we've got a store inside, it actually helps a lot!" Landon added, a grin slipping through. "I swear, if we get peanut butter cookies again I'll scream."

Mark wanted food—just like everyone else. His stomach twisted at the thought of cookies, but Ashley and her followers were still out there, roaming the area. Going off to get the food wasn't the ideal choice.

Instead, he carried a plastic bucket of cabbage, the weight heavy on his arm, back toward one of the base areas.

Mark spotted Emma pacing back and forth. "Emma," he called.

"I'm not panicking!" Emma blurted, but her teeth sank into her bottom lip. "Cindy came back. She took those four somewhere. They were supposed to be going somewhere else..."

Mark raised a hand gently. "Relax."

"Ashley's still out there," Emma snapped. "And I don't know if Jade found Esme, and—"

Her voice broke. She sucked in a shaky breath and dropped into a faded blue lawn chair, like her legs had finally given out.

"It's just... too much."

"They might be going to that meeting with River," Mark offered. "Apparently, his mother was at the barrier."

Emma didn't respond. She just stared at the dirt beneath her boots.

Mark watched her pace.

He'd seen this before.

The restless steps and the way she chewed her lip until it turned red. The way she kept insisting she was fine right until her body gave out.

Emma didn't notice she was doing it anymore.

"Nobody told me," she whispered, her voice raw. "Most of the helpful freaks are gone. If Ashley shows up... we're sitting ducks."

"We're not safe until Ashley's gone," Mark said.

It wasn't fear.

It was a fact.

Emma's gaze flickered up. "I think people are starting to offer themselves," she said quietly.

Mark frowned. "Offer themselves to Divina?"

She nodded.

"To become the host body or whatever Divina calls it."

Mark's stomach twisted. He knew that meant people were deciding to end their life.

"How many?" he asked.

"I don't know."

She looked down at her hands.

"But Bella is one of them."

Mark stared at her.

"Bella?"

Emma nodded.

Bella was back, but she hadn't been for long. After going into isolation for six months, she was finally back and wanted to throw herself away?

"You're serious?"

"Yeah..."

"Did she say why?" he asked with disbelief.

"There's been a shift in her behaviour," she said. "The obsession with protecting Jason is gone. It's like she made peace with something."

Emma looked away.

"And now she thinks that is what she's supposed to do."

Mark shook his head. If Bella had decided this was right, convincing her otherwise wouldn't he easy.

"She just got back," Emma said, her voice rising. "Why would she leave again? I thought maybe she was suicidal at first, but it's not that. She wants to do it. Like it's some type of redemption."

Her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater.

"The followers are almost gone," she said quickly. "But they still have powers. Cassandra controls most of them like puppets, but some still have their own abilities. We're not safe."

Mark reached out and grabbed her shoulders to stop her pacing. "You can't worry about everything," he said. "You keep this up, you'll end up passing out in the infirmary."

"I didn't pass out that much."

"Every time I went there, you'd be passed out on the ground. There was a rare chance you's actually be awake."

In the infirmary, Emma was always asleep somewhere she shouldn't be—against the wall, on the floor, beside whatever mess she'd just cleaned up. He knew that overusing her healing ability drained her energy, and she had been going through a rough mental breakdown.

"I'm better now," she mumbled into her hands.

"Says the one who forgot to eat last night."

"Stop teasing me. You sound like Bryce."

Mark smiled despite himself. He'd seen the many times where Bryce had commented about her not eating enough or needing to sleep longer.

"You have to eat," Mark said.

"I get busy with everything happening," Emma protested.

Just then, Mark spotted Bella walking toward them. Her lips were pressed in a tight line, and her hands were trembling slightly.

"Don't ask me more questions. Scarlett might know, but not me," Emma stated, voice low.

Mark knew she meant the Divina situation. Bella nodded without meeting eyes and kept walking.

"She really wants to do it?" Mark asked.

He would have assumed Bella might have been lying. Then again, hadn't expected her to go off the grid for six months alone.

"Why?" Mark asked again.

"Jason will be distraught," Emma mumbled, chewing her lip. "I know he's away, but when they're done, Cassandra announces it."

This whole situation was just like what happened to Ashley. Before, Ashley had just been Jason's stepsister, someone they didn't interact with much. He always found it weird how sometimes, she'd follow them around when they went to play volleyball. He still remembered when he accidentally spiked a volleyball, hitting her square in the nose.

"People could still die out there," she said, pointing out into the fields. "We've had enough deaths from what happened in Simcoe."

Mark looked around the quiet campground, the silence unsettling. Followers stood outside the perimeter, scattered between the trees and abandoned tents.

They didn't move unless Zane told them to.

Some of them looked normal, but people didn't care to talk to them. It was hard to look into the face of someone who was technically dead.

Something lightly touched Mark's shoulder.

He froze and slowly turned.

Melany stood behind him.

He forgot how to breathe.

His mind rejected the sight before he could even understand it.

Melany had been dead for almost a year.

He'd seen her body covered in blood and dirt. He'd heard she shielded Cindy from being shot by Luke.

She was pale.

Her face was almost exactly how Mark remembered it, but something was wrong. Her skin had the stillness of someone who no longer needed to breathe.

The same strands of her across her face with the soft eyes.

But they were tired in a way he didn't know how to explain.

"Wait, I thought you weren't a follower." Emma's voice trembled beside him.

Melany gave a sad smile. "I was, but I never attacked anyone," she said.

His throat tightened. She'd worked in the infirmary, back before everything. Back when people still thought they could save each other with bandages and prayer.

She wasn't supposed to be standing here.

"Why?" Emma gasped, taking a shaky step back.

"Revenge on Luke," Melany said.

That was the normal response a lot of these followers had. All of them wanted revenge, either because Luke had killed them or for someone they knew had been injured by him by him.

"You never showed yourself or anything. It's not Cassandra's power, right?" Emma asked, still trembling.

"I was looking for Cindy, but I haven't seen her," Melany said.

"She's off with River and some others," Mark implied.

Melany turned slowly, her eyes scanning the campground. People nearby had stopped what they were doing, buckets and weapons hanging uselessly at their sides.

Just then, Cindy bopped in front of them.

"Emma, we need—"

Cindy froze mid-sentence.

Her gaze locked on Melany.

Cindy blinked once.

Then again.

She slapped her cheeks hard, then rubbed her eyes like she could physically wipe the image away.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no. This isn't..."

Her voice cracked on the edge of recognition and horror.

Melany didn't move.

She stood still, her posture quiet, like she knew this would hurt before it helped.

Cindy stumbled back a step. Then another.

Her knees buckled, like they couldn't hold her up anymore.

"Melany?" she whispered.

Tears spilled fast, streaming down her cheeks. She dropped to the ground, one hand clutched over her mouth to stifle the sob.

Melany stepped closer. Slowly. Gently. She lowered herself and set a hand atop Cindy's head. Cindy didn't pull away.

"I'm still dead," Melany said softly.

Cindy didn't look up. Her shoulders shook as she nodded.

"I know," she whispered.

Mark realized it had been a long time since someone had seen Cindy cry like this.

Scarlett stood before the fire, watching the linger at the edge of the camp. They moved like the regular people, but they were still dead. Whatever agreement Cassandra had made, it hadn't changed what they were.

"Some of my friends..." Max's voice dropped beside her. "Didn't make it through the storm."

Scarlett glanced at him. "I'm. sorry."

He stared into the fire. "I barely got to know them before they were gone."

Scarlett said nothing.

Even with her daughter around here—who somehow turned out to be a good person—Scarlett felt the weight of everything pressing in.

Cassandra had warned them not to act recklessly and throw their lives away.

She'd been right.

Scarlett hadn't expected that from her daughter. Maybe that was the part that unsettled her the most—not Cassandra's strength but what she did with it.

She was trying to do the same.

For once, she wasn't trying to become someone better for herself. She was trying because Cassandra was watching.

A tap touched her shoulder.

She turned and Bella stood there.

Scarlett smirked and raised an eyebrow. The housewife had spent six months in isolation after Eden sent her away for what she'd done to Jason.

Apparently, six months hadn't erased the guilt from her face.

"Yes?" Scarlett asked.

"I need to ask you about something," Bella whispered, tugging her away from the fire.

They moved toward Scarlett's RV. Once inside, Scarlett folded her arms, waiting.

"It's about Cassandra," Bella said.

"She won't be back for a couple of days," Scarlett replied.

"No, it's not that. Has she given you more information on the host body situation?"

"Other than Divina needs a body and Cassandra can't be a host? Not much."

Scarlett placed a hand on her hip.

"But that's why you're asking it, right?"

Bella looked down at her shoes.

"You're thinking of volunteering."

Bella tensed, but Scarlett wasn't surprised. Bella still carried guilt from her past behaviour with Jason.

"Others might sacrifice themselves," Scarlett added. "Cassandra doesn't know much more than we do."

"Right..." Bella trailed off.

"Why choose to sacrifice?"

Bella looked away as Scarlett waited.

"And don't tell me it's redemption. You don't believe you deserve that."

Bella's eyes glistened.

"I want to free him."

Scarlett didn't like Bella, but she understood that guilt made people do things. Maybe this was Bella's way of trying to do something right.

Scarlett hadn't made her decision yet.

She could volunteer, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to.

She had plenty of reasons to believe she deserved it—the manipulation, the cruelty, and all the people she used to get what she wanted.

And yet people had forgiven her.

Emma had.

That forgiveness frightened her. She wasn't used to kindness.

She wasn't used to being seen as someone who could be redeemed.

Maybe that was why it still didn't feel real. Being good. Having a child who smiled when they saw her. Cassandra looked just like her with that dark hair and the same facial structure.

Scarlett still had no idea how to raise a child. No one taught her or showed her what a mother is supposed to look like. She'd never been raised properly herself.

Somehow, Cassandra had still turned out good.

Not perfect or untouched by everything she'd survived.

But good.

Scarlett could live with that she did one thing right.

Maybe this was her redemption.

Not speeches, apologies, or pretending the past didn't happen.

She'd raised a child who could free them.

Maybe that was the closest she would come to making things right.

"Is that all?" she asked Bella.

"Yes," Bella said quietly and walked away.

Scarlett stepped outside the RV and looked around the quiet camp. She couldn't go on mission, since her body was still recovering from childbirth. Suicide runs weren't an option. Not yet.

She had taunted, manipulated, and broken others mentally and emotionally. And still... people forgave her. She didn't know what to do with that.

She had changed. She knew that.

But change was uncomfortable.

Some days, not being cruel felt like wearing someone else's skin.

And Greyson? Their relationship had always been a storm—the kind where they broke up and fell back together on repeat. And yet now... there was a child.

They had talked the night before. It was awkward, but it was real. From their relationship to the child who smiled widely whenever she saw them.

However, those weren't the words she wanted him to say. She wanted to ask a firmer question because she needed to know the truth. It wasn't out of confirmation because she knew the months ago. She needed to hear those words that frightened him.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes, the words slipping out under her breath.

"Choose me."

But she had a sinking feeling she wouldn't be picked. Not because she was weak, but because she's Cassandra's mother. Cassandra would never let that happen.

Cassandra cared too much. About people. About them. About stopping Ashley and Divina. She'd carry the burden herself before letting anyone she loved die.

That was what scared Scarlett the most. Her daughter was stronger than both Ashley and Divina combined, but her heart might be her weakness.

Scarlett didn't know if she'd be chosen. But maybe she had been. Just not for death. For something harder.

For redemption.

Except Divina had already made its choice.

Of everyone who had offered themselves, it had chosen carefully.

It knew exactly who was needed.

Scarlett didn't know who.

Divina wasn't going to tell them until every follower was gone.

The four of them walked in silence through an empty field, the damp ground sucking at their shoes, and broken corn stalks snapping beneath every step. The fields stretched endlessly in every direction, and Stick had long since lost count of how many they had crossed.

He didn't belong here anymore.

Not because he didn't care—but because he'd done things the others hadn't.

Things he hadn't confessed.

He had killed Vickie accidentally.

That was what he told himself every time the murder came back. It hadn't been murder. He hadn't meant to hurt her.

But he had thrown her body in the ditch and ran.

He had once been the golden child. Not rich—his mom worked at the LCBO, his dad a welder—but he had talent. Real talent. When soccer scouts started noticing him, he could almost see the future: scholarships, university leagues, maybe even something international.

He remembered being five years old, sitting in front of the television watching Cristiano Ronaldo play.

He'd stared at the screen with wide eyes, convinced that one day he could be just like him.

Now he was here, and still trying to earn back the right to move forward.

"I really hope we don't run into Ashley," Mallory murmured, her lips tightly pressed together.

"Zane said it should only be followers," Angel replied, though the lack of conviction in his voice made the reassurance feel hollow.

"If we run into Ashley, we have to try to fight," James said grimly.

"She's got Jason's burning power and Greyson's telekinesis. We're going to die!" Mallory exclaimed, waving her arms in panic.

"We just have to hope we don't," Stick said, not believing a word of it.

The fear wasn't just about Ashley's endgame or Cassandra's existence—it was about seeing the real world again. Just beyond the transparent dome, the outside watched them like animals in cages.

As they walked, people were still pressed close to the barrier. They held up phones, snapping pictures and taking videos. Reporters clustered together, microphones in hand, trying to uncover information from anyone.

"We have to do our best with avoidance," James started.

"I'm not a fighter myself, but I want out of here," Angel said.

"We do have food now, which is great!" Mallory cheered, jumping on her toes.

It was good that they had food, but there had still been negatives. Cassandra may be attempting to help prevent everything, but death is still looming; most of the freaks are out, including himself, despite his resolutions; this could serve as another aspect of redemption.

"Does your power actually flatten objects?" Angel asked Mallory.

"Yeah, I once flattened a stick before. I have to make myself fall," Mallory explained. "I barely fall down anymore, so I leap to the ground."

"Can you flatten a person?" Stick asked.

"I don't think so," she tilted her head. "But if I could fatten a follower, that would be awesome! I'd be like Esme."

Did Stick ever feel that way? He tried to remember any famous soccer players he used to look up to. Right, Cristiano Ronaldo, because of how outstanding he played when he watched a match.

"Let's hope Jade ends up bringing her back. How could she take on Ashley alone?" Angel inquired, pressing his lips together.

Ashley couldn't, but the old Stick could.

He wasn't the same Stick anymore. At least, he didn't want to be.

He'd spent months begging God for forgiveness over Vickie, even when he wasn't sure anyone was listening. Eden had somewhat helped him confront what he'd done, despite being a fake religious person.

"Why is Eden so..." Stick started but didn't know how to finish the words.

"Crazy?" Mallory asked. "It's how she's always been, apparently. She's done really bad things, like getting into fights or burning stuff."

He's realized just how different Eden was after seeing her bring drugs to that house in the woods.

He was pretty sure she'd knocked him out once, too. He couldn't remember exactly what happened. One moment he'd been awake; the next, he'd been alone with a splitting headache.

"Keep her on your good side," James implied.

Stick had seen the unhinged girl in action. He remembered she had drugged Bella to prove a point by stuffing a pill in some pudding. The way Eden smiled was the most disturbing part. It almost seemed like an innocent facade under that real personality.

"The police ended up shipping her to Uden Academy," Mallory stated, looking around the empty field. "The gang got disbanded, which is why the police thought she needed a change."

Gang activity at such an young age. So why did his behaviour seem sane compared to some of the students at Uden Academy? Yes, he was prideful, like some he had met, but it all extended.

The backgrounds of lives they shouldn't have lived, like getting into drugs young, which he couldn't retaliate against due to smoking pot himself.

Suddenly, Stick felt himself go flying off the ground. He landed hard, the impact hurting his teeth and sending a wave of dizziness crashing over him. He widened his eyes, glancing back in the direction of Ashley.

"I can't see you, but you'll die," Ashley taunted.

They broke into a sprint away from Ashley's location and near some bare trees. It did that help Ashley couldn't see, but didn't help much that she had all the mutant powers. In any second, she could fry one of them to ash.

"Where did you go?" Ashley roared.

Stick felt his heart hammering as they stumbled inside a thick, overgrown bush. It wasn't the one where Emma had some haunting feelings, but a different one. Maybe it had been one near Uden Academy, but Stick wasn't concerned about that.

"Let's hide," Angel whispered.

They huddled together behind a pile of fallen pine trees. A thick log lay across the top, offering some cover. Stick peeked from the side, where fallen leaves surrounded it. All of them sat still, barely daring to breathe. Nobody had the power of hearing, which did help.

Ashley travelled inside the bush, searching around. Stick wanted to say something to them, but he couldn't find the words. Did he magically assume that Ashley might be gone? No, she felt they had been here, leaving them all fearful. It wasn't that any of them had performed many heroic actions before.

"I found you," Ashley taunted, palms facing toward them.

A wave of unseen force slammed into them, sending all four flying backwards. They hit the hard ground, the impact knocked the air from Stick's lungs and leaving his body aching.

"This isn't who I wanted to run into..." Mallory trembled.

Stick knew he needed to find a way out.

Angel raised his hand, forcing gravity downwards—branches snapped loose and crashed toward Ashley.

They heard a frustrated groan, but Stick felt his stomach twist.

"We should be okay, but if she has Jason's light, we're in trouble," James whispered.

Which is exactly what started to happen. Jason's power filled the forest with blue light. Trees were sliced through, exploding into flames. They scrambled to their feet and ran blindly in the opposite direction, but he knew they couldn't hide.

"Should you throw things?" Angel panicked in a whisper, staring directly at Stick and James.

Both of them could gain unrealistic strength, so it almost seemed crazy. If Stick focused on the fact that he had been hungry, it'd work.

"Okay," James said while wobbling and standing.

"Mallory, you need to stay down," Angel said.

James grabbed a fallen tree with his both hands.

"Move!"

He swung.

The tree trunk tore through the branches and slammed into Ashley, knocking her sideways.

James barely had time to react before Ashley vanished.

A blur crossed Stick's vision.

Her fist hit James's chest and launched him backward into a tree.

Ashley was already back on her feet, using her super speed. She appeared directly in front of Stick, a feral grin plastering her lips. He barely had time to react, grabbing a thick, broken branch and hurling it at her.

"You think you can beat me?" she taunted, slipping past the branch. "You'll die before the goddess ever gets a body."

Stick glanced at Mallory and Angel. They were creeping away, trying not to make a sound. Ashley prowled the clearing, her eyes blazing with something feral. James struggled to his feet, blood dripping down his forehead.

He needed to distract Ashley. Spotting a broken branch, its tip already ablaze, he grabbed it. He took a breath before rushing at Ashley.

As he threw the branch at Ashley, a yelp escaped her lips when it made contact, burning her flesh. Suddenly, he felt himself thrown backwards, crashing into a broken log, as pain rushed in his side.

"I hear you," Ashley taunted, heading toward the direction of Angel and Mallory.

Both froze at her voice. Stick groaned, pushed himself up, his gaze landing on the scene around him. The bush was burning, and soon enough, they'd all be fried like hamburgers on a barbecue.

"Run!" Stick exclaimed.

Angel and Mallory broke into a sprint in the opposite direction. Suddenly, Mallory lost her balance and tripped over a long branch.

Ashley charge toward Mallory as Stick stumbled. She aimed her palms directly at Mallory.

In desperation, Mallory threw the flattened branch at Ashley, causing her to stumble back slightly.

Stick observed Mallory standing. He noticed Ashley standing with gritted teeth. She faced her palms from a distance, directed at Mallory as Angel screamed at her.

Stick moved before he could think.

The blue light was already racing toward Mallory, and she didn't even see it.

He stepped in front of her and shoved her aside.

There was no applause. No crowd.

Just heat burning through him.

Pain tore through his stomach.

He looked down.

A massive hole had been burned through his stomach. Smoke curled from the edges, and his clothes were still glowing red around the wound.

He couldn't feel his legs anymore.

Mallory let out a bloody scream.

Stick stumbled, then collapsed to the ground. His vision blurred. Darkness crept in at the edges.

He remembered the sound of the stadium when he was twelve. The echo of the goal being scored. His father cheering, his mother clapping with both hands over her head.

That life was gone.

But maybe... this was his redemption.

This was how it ended.

Not as the boy who killed, but as the boy who saved.

He begged for forgiveness once. Not knowing if God listened. But now?

Now he felt peace.

Mallory collapsed to her knees beside him with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands hovered over his body like she was trying to fix it.

"Why would you do that?" she choked. "You could've moved!"

Stick's hand trembled and found hers.

"It's okay..."

His voice was barely there now.

"You're still here."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"That's all what matters."

This wasn't Stick the killer or the golden boy.

The one who should've had a future.

He didn't want pity or tears.

All he wanted was peace.

And now, he had it.

He had redeemed himself.

"Thank you," Mallory whispered, her voice shaky.

His grip loosened from her hand.

Stick could barely hear her, but it was enough.

He wanted to be remembered—not for what he'd done wrong, but for what he'd finally done right.

She deserved to live.

She still had a future and he no longer did.

But that was okay.

He'd made his choice.

And for the first time in a long time...

He was glad.

I cried like a baby writing Stick's death. Our golden boy finally forgave himself.

Plus we got Cindy and Melany meeting again. The reunion you never expected to happen again...