I gripped my slicker jacket sleeve with one hand, tugging it nervously. I moved like a shadow through the streets. The lampposts' golden light flickered as I passed by them, and my black combat boots sloshed in the water puddles forming below my in the cement. The night was as dark as my eyes. I could feel the raindrops hammer against my back like a million tiny, wet fists. I would have used the wind to both comfort me and keep the rain away, but I feared it would make my body colder than it was.

I trudged through the wetness. Damn rain...Why did it have to rain tonight? Jesus Christ on a wooden raptor...

I glanced through the slick folds of the jacket towards the row of houses taking up my side. The structures were all too similar, and I could hardly the decorations outside, the only way to tell them apart, through the rain and mist. Crossing my arms over my chest, I walked up to a random house, hoping it was Gary's.

I rapped my knuckles on the door urgently. What will I say if this isn't Gary? Certain people shouldn't see me walking around at night in the rain... It would raise some eyebrows. I glanced around as I stepped back and heard someone unlock the door. My hands folded in my pockets.

The door swung open. Instead of Gary being there, Dillan and his tired violet eyes peered back at my curiously. He had a gun in his hand. After all, you couldn't be too careful with who shows up on your doorstep in a town like Milton. His pajamas were baggy on him, and looked incredibly soft. "Emma? What in the name of Croma are you doing here, girl?" His eyes skipped over me. "Would you like to come in and have a hot drink? You're soaking." He opened the door a tidbit more in invitation.

I narrowed my eyes. "Thank you for your... hospitality." Every word was gritted between my teeth. "But I am gonna have to pass. I was looking for someone. Sorry. I knocked at the wrong house."

"Fango is right there, if you are looking for him..." Dillan nodded to the left.

"I have a life outside of Croma, you know!" I snapped at him. "Outside of that, I have nothing to do with him. Thank you... But this was the wrong door. I'll be on my way."

The violet-eyed boy bit his lip. "I would feel bad leaving you out here. Will you come in and have some hot cocoa? Just so I can sleep tonight without thinking about how bad of a person I am?"

"No. Good night." I turned away from him, already stepping down his porch and back onto the street. I couldn't hear if the door had closed or not over the rain, but I wasn't about to turn back. If Fango lives to the left, maybe Gary lives on the right. I began to trot down the sidewalk towards the other house. Then, I found myself fmrushing up onto the porch. I knocked.

To my luck, Gary unlocked the door and glanced at me. His black eyes skipped over me the way a stone skips over a river. In that moment, I regretted the fact I hadn't brought a knife. However, I did have my wind, and that was something I could use to defend myself with. "Emma. I wasn't expecting you to actually come. Come in before you get wetter and soak my carpet even worse than you will."

I came into the house, suddenly overcome by heat against my cool skin. I slipped the jacket off and hung it by the door, and left my boots on the wiry mat sitting beside it. "Try anything, Gary Bluethorne, and I can kill you. I have the power of air."

The dark-haired man was sitting on his checkered couch, pouring what looked to be hot tea at the coffee table. "So you do. Feel free to sit here, but don't get too comfortable." After putting a couple of sugar cubes, which were held in a can on the coffee table, in one of the cups, he looked up at me. "Your wind isn't special, you know. All of the Croman prophets have elements. Did they not tell you that?"

"Yes. They told me." I returned his glare, and traveled over to the couch. I took the seat farthest away from him, which only left one cushion between us. "But I can still seriously injure you if, you know, you aren't legitimate."

He smiled. "Come into my own home and threaten me? How typical of you. You can get your own sugar cubes, by the way." He gestured down to my untouched hot tea. "We will talk about how this will plan through during tea, and take action after, alright?"

"Fine..." I took a single sugar cube and plopped it in the opaque brown liquid. "I get in, I get out."

He took a long sip before responding, "Please tell me you are smarter than that, Emma Whitestone. You forget, as a Dark General, I shouldn't even think about helping you."

I swished the tea around cautiously. I wasn't planning on drinking it. "Not my problem. Why are you helping me, anyways, Bluethorne?" I set the cup down on the table, then gave him a questioning look. "This is a trap, isn't it?"

"Trust me, two Cromans is too much pull on the Dark. We don't need that. That's why you only have one night to complete this operation. Also, anyone can sense you if you use your wind. After all, it is a power of creation, and you are in a realm of nonexistance. So, I have no clue what you are gonna do about weapons." He wrinkled his nose at his drink. "More sugar..."

I pushed the cup away completely. I didn't trust it. "First demon I see, I can kill. I will find a way to kill it. Or knock it out. Then, I will use its weapon. I will figure the rest out. I swear. I just want to go."

"There is one more thing you need to realize..." Gary said.

I groaned in impatience.

"In this dimension, you need to pull strings. None of it really exists. It's hard to explain, but... In order to even talk to Mary Clarkson, you must puppeteer this plane." Gary flexed his shoulders with a sigh. "Some demons have bat wings. Everything turns into a plane of land that your mind can comprehend. After all, those of you born on earth are so simple and small-minded... Some more than others..."

I cleared my throat. "I didn't come to hear you rant about my dimension. I came to save my best friend. I am not drinking your Croma-forsaken tea, so whenever you are ready, we go."

I knew what I was doing was dangerous. It was stupid, reckless, and endangering. However, it was the most timeless way I could save Mary Clarkson. Either my soul sister was coming home with me, or we would be imprisoned there together. I didn't give a thought towards Croma. My only remorse in being imprisoned was the fact that my family would worry for me. However, it didn't matter where I was. As long as I was with Mary, I was happy.

Besides, with two Cromans missing, the others didn't even have a choice. They would come save us.

"Usually, I go there in my sleep," Gary said as he stood up. I stood after him. "However, since you can't, and it can't be found out that I aided you, you will have to use the passageway in my basement."

I gulped at the obvious seclusion the passageway would have around it. Anything could happen. "Sounds good. Will I show up in a random place, or at a certain location?"

"There are no locations. Ready?"

I followed my math teacher into the hallway. The house was similar to Dillon's on the outside, but possessed a diverse structure inside. Instead of three bedrooms, there were two. One was completely empty, save for a small bookshelf complete with Kim Harrison books. The other room held only a bed, a desk, and a television set. There was only one bathroom. The doors to each of them were open. The floor was carpeted dense green, which casually became wetter the closer to the basement we got. There was a dip in the house before we got to the basement door. The rug in front of it squished under my socks.

Gary leaned forward, his leather jacket dangling off of his body as he attempted to avoid the puddles. "Bad leak. I will fix it in the near future. Did you carry your boots back here with you?" He stretched and jammed a key in the lock.

"Yes sir," I said, glancing at the sleek black figures dangling from my hand. "I will wear them when I get in there."

The image of his basement sent me flying backwards. There were at least ten dead bodies sprawled across the place. Each one was identical to Gary Bluethorne. I had no time to react, save for stare in fear, before he sighed and lifted me off of the wet ground. "When you have a vessel on earth, the place gets so weak that the vessel collapses after a while. I still can't afford the charcoal to burn all these bodies yet. This will soon happen to Oliver and all the other Apotropaics on earth right now. Let me guess, Ace is down?"

I gulped, unable to take my eyes off of the bodies. "Yeah... He is...."

We walked into the basement, taking the path of the more shallow puddles. I became wary of the bodies around me, but kept an eye on the live Gary Bluethorne, as well. In moments, I would be walking into a deathtrap worse than Hell. And I welcomed that.

***

This place is made of colors that do not exist. It is built upon anything other than fiction and reality, as where I came from did. Someone living like me can not survive in the realm of after-death. This place, I think, is similar to the eternal nothingness that occurs once you die in an afterlife. However, I am strong enough to exist here.

I am strong enough to bend.

My mind created the illusion of silver cuffs. They gleamed under the false glow of a non-existent sky, and the man named Salt yanked the collar of my shirt so I would walk straight. I coughed against the weight on my neck, and he bent to growl in my ear.

"Listen here, you little shit," Salt hissed. "You better be on your best behavior. This is your King you are about to meet. You will call him Dark."

I shuddered at the utter power of that name. I had to remember three titles now. If only I knew my own. Or better yet, the title of the mysterious being I keep wanting to shout out to. Titles... so complicated... So powerful... Salt yanked me into place again, shoving his hand into my back to make me stand straight.

"Listen, girl, we are almost there. Don't start making yourself look bad," he scolded. "You are very important to what he wants."

I looked down, slipping my fingers around the cuffs of the other hand while trying to feel for a texture. "How can I be important? I don't know who I am. I don't even know my name."

"Your name is utterly irrelevant."

I'm pretty sure I would have argued against him, If I wasn't so sure than he was just as much bite as bark. I closed my mouth and trotted onwards, assuming a princess-worthy stance for Salt. I'm not sure who or what it is, but I want it. I want it to hold me and never let me go. I want it to save me. It drove me crazy, the way I couldn't remember it, but I still wanted it. I was sure that it was the only thing I wanted.

***

When the vision was over and I was alone, standing on a non-existent floor, I drew in a deep breath. The air, if it existed, had no taste. It didn't even soften against my to tongue as I drew it in. My glance made its way around, and I realized that none of it existed. Nothingness had no color - not black, not white, not clear. I was not there, either. I was simply part of the awful nothingness. As it was in my nature to do, I panicked. Then, I realized all I had to do was pull some strings. How to do that, I wasn't sure.

There is no 'how' in this place. My thoughts were unformed and unnatural. There only is. And there only isn't. Nothing works. Everything works. You can figure this out.

To even think, I must have been bending myself. That couldn't be too different from changing the place around me.

Almost naturally, the scene around me shifted and fluttered into beautiful splashes of colors. Red-tinged leaves shuddered on the chill of the wind, which I had bent rather than used my power to make. Colorful flowers arched their way up against the trimmed hedged that made a semi-circle around me. In a small opening, a pathway that leads to Mary, the road is made of marble and crystal. Yes, I thought, this is a lot less alarming than making this a dungeon or something.

The scene around me looked digitalized and blurry, and the sounds faltered every few moments, but it was a pretty decent vision.

I glanced down at my hands. They were unnaturally clear and practically glowing. If the rest of my body looked like this, I would probably look like an angel.

I scoffed at the thought, then tried to make myself a sword. Nothing appeared on my hands, nor my body. My guess was that you could bend the environment and yourself only. Besides, the sword probably wouldn't harm anyone here, either. After all, it was only created by my mind to be able to understand the plane better. I would have to pick it off of a demon, which was going to be relatively difficult.

I began following the slick trail towards Mary. My boots slid a bit, only caught by the texture of the crystal bits. Walking was unrealistically sloppy, with each leg moving off on an odd timing. My arms dangled a few inches longer than they should have against my sides. Although it felt cold, my curly golden hair and my dark clothes stuck to my body with sweat. Was I messing up a bend? Was I sweating with anticipation or fear? I didn't know the answer. What I did know was that Mary wasn't far. As long as I followed the marble, I would end up at her side. Every road leads to you... I thought with a grim smile.

All at once, I felt something completely flip. It was a dramatic feeling, like the entire world had been flipped over and each inhabitant had been twisted. Time itself had been altered.

But this place knows no such thing as time.

I freeze in my spot on the marble road, afraid. I can't smell, see, or hear anything suspicious, but I know it's there. Hiding in the bush won't help me. After all, the bush isn't even there. Like a hallucination, no one else sees it. But a demon passing by, no matter how well hidden I was, could see me.

Shit... How am I going to fight it? I am not going to alert the plane that I was here with a brief use of my wind, and it isn't like I can bend anything to use on them.

Can I bend myself?

Damn... That won't work... I don't exist...

The demon comes into my line of sight. It looks like a bat and a human had a mange-ridden child. It squints througg its eyes, mouth hanging open as it swings his head around. Tiny, deadly fangs gleam inside of its jaws.

My eyes widen. So...What happens if I die here?

The demon spots me. It lets out a shrill cry, and begins to twitch its body in my direction, ignoring the hallucinated swerve of the path. Something inside its ugly, patched wing gleams. The sword is thin, elegant, and smooth - everything its wielder isn't. It also looks to have something etched into the blade.

I rush the demon, my heart thundering in my ears. When we are close enough to each other, I leap for the sword burrowed in its wing. It snaps the the folds shut, entrapping the weapon, and screeches as if to scold me. Then, with its other limb, it smacks me back and sends my flying through the air. I land on my back against the grass I made.

The demon leaps on top of me when I am down. It pushes the ridges of its wings into my shoulders to hold me in place, and opens its saliva-strung jaws over my face. It arches its back to lunge forward, and aims straight to rip at my throat.

I twist out of the way, neck narrowly missed by its jaws. When it brings its head back up to strike again, I twist my hands up and shove at its chest. Muscled enough to throw off a hunk of flesh, the demon struggles to keep in. Switching my motive, I roll over to keep the creature under me. My knees pin down its legs, and my hands pin down its hands.

"Can you hear me?" I ask in a low growl.

"Yes," it replies in a deep, accented voice. It dips its head, wrinkling its piggish nose in disgust at me.

"Give me the sword and I will let you go." I had the memory of Ebony fighting a batlike Dark demon fresh in my mind; she had proven that the beast had more brute than brains. I was hoping that this one was just as smart.

"No! Loyal! Rather die! Must protect sword of General!" The demon began to squirm frantically under me, then jutted its head forward to try and headbutt me. I dip my head towards its neck, where it couldn't snap at me. "Let go! Let go!"

My dark eyes skip over the baggy wrinkles of its throat. How am I supposed to kill this thing? It would be a big struggle to fish the sword out and remain pinning them down. Unless...

I flip the demon's body over under me. For a brief moment, it flails, trying to escape. Before it could, I slam its body down and straddle its spine, keeping it down as I slip my hand into its wing. It squirms in protest, but I still came out with the weapon.

BLUETHORNE is the name etched into the blade. The letters glow a molten red-gold color, and the edges of the blade are expertly sharpened. It looks strong and sharp enough to slice a cement block in half without falter. The handle has the imprint if a larger, more muscular hand in it. The dips in the sword obviously belong to Gary.

"Let Salt spit on your grave!" spits the demon.

"Oh, shut it. I have a feeling there will be a lot more beings than Salt spitting on me." Without truly knowing my own strength in the sword, I swing it in my hand and beheaded it. Its body goes unnaturally limp, and the blood gushedls out against the imaginary grass. Red and black splatters against me.

I drop the sword, eyes wide. I had killed something. Something with feelings and loyalty. The kill brings back that horrible dream whose fear I thought I had escaped. In the moment I had swiped the blade across the back of its neck, I had felt like I was reliving the dream of my mother again. I do not feel the demon's blood as I lather the red on my hands. I feel my mother, limp beneath me. I feel her hot circulation spilling against me.

I feel guilty.

I rise, wobbly, from the dead body. I clutch the sword in my hands, feeling the handle grip against my skin. When I glance down, the sword is hissing. Instead of BLUETHORNE written against the metal, the name is WHITESTONE. The handle has the imprint of my hand now. The sword is mine. The killing mechanism is mine, and I am the machine.

I don't want to kill... If I kill... someone will be losing someone else... Shaking, I drag the sword at my side against the blurred, imaginary grass. I continue the trail, clothes clammy against me. I killed for Mary... But is killing for a loved one even an excuse to take someone from this world? There is no good or bad. There are only opposite views...

For minutes that felt like hours, I walked. I decided to take the bushes surrounding the trail away to see enemies from all sides. There hadn't been any. Not until I came onto Mary Clarkson's location.

She is being led by Salt himself. He has the back of her shirt balled into his fist, and it looks to practically be choking her. Her head is dipped to the ground, her black curls hiding her face in a curtain of darkness. Salt yanks her shirt and growls something harsh, and so she stands up straight. Her beautiful green gaze had never looked so dull, and she looks lost and afraid.

I begin stepping forward, but stop. No one, and I mean no one, treats Mary like that! Despite my seething thoughts, I know it isn't wise to fight Salt. He is cunning, probably more so than he was to Ebony eons ago. He looked sharply muscled, too, and his swords looked sharper than mine. Besides, with Mary just standing like that, it would be so quick and easy to kill her off if I made an appearance.

So... What am I going to do?

I survey the now-flat land for their destination, and I find a tiny squint-worthy dot of a castle far away. It looks to be a hell of a walk. I can't go ahead of them and wait there to ambush them. After all, a walk like that looks to take longer than the time I have left, and this is a one-night shot.

I could bend a hill. Although he can't see the hill, I will be above him anyways. With aim, I could simply slice into him when I jumped off.... However, I could also easily kill Mary on accident...

My best chance is to just walk up to him. After all, demons in the plane take the form of what their minds can process. No one knows it is me, so I won't look like Emma Whitestone. However, there was still a chance he would see me for who I was; he has lived countless years in the non-existent dimension, and there is no telling what he could bend or what he could sense.

With a brave breath, I began walking into their view. Salt swing his head towards me, black eyes narrow and cold. I trudge through the fear his gaze installs in me, pulling in a tough face through my stunt. I turned my sword to the nameless side.

"Who are you?" His eyes rake over the blade. "That's Gary's. I told him I was taking the Minium to the Dark. Are you the guard he sent?"

"Yes," I answered, walking forward and keeping a royalty-worthy stance. My eyes found Mary, who was staring at me with wide, surprised eyes. I knew from the visions, being her, that she didn't remember me. I was expecting that. But the way she looked at me wounded my heart. At least she knew that I was the person she kept trying to call out for. And she wasn't going to say anything about it, either.

Thank Croma.

One side of Salt's mouth lifted into a lopsided grin. "Alright. You take the damn faerie. I will lead. Make sure she stands straight. You know how important presentation is."

I dip my head and slip my hand around Mary's collar where Salt's grip was. My hold, of course, is a lot more gentle than the General's. Salt didn't stick around long enough to see my gentleness, practically throwing Mary at me before turning away.

Mary... my Mary... just here... She us here with me... And she is the Minium! I know I should be afraid, but I can only feel pride. She is so strong, my little soul sister.

Mary turns to me and whispers, "It's you..."

I smile at her and let go of her for a brief moment to put my finger over my lips. Her eyes widen and she beams. My worst fear, losing Mary, had come true. Now, the resolve has come. The nightmare would be over.

We walk a couple minutes more. My heart hammers inside of my chest as I procrastinate the move. I don't want to feel the blood again.

But this asshole... How he treated Mary... You don't walk away from that alive.

Finally, after Mary's head droops and she loses hope, I shove her to the side. It is a move I regret, knowing she will probably make an imaginary impact, but I don't want her in the way when I kill Salt. "Mary Clarkson, close your eyes!" She can't see the blood, either.

Salt turns and unsheathes both swords in a moment too quick for my eyes. It's that moment I genuinely regret warning Mary. The false sunlight gleams off the edges of his blade, and the smirk is clear on his angled face. "I knew it was you. I was waiting for this moment, Emma Whitestone, Kalos prophet!"

I jut my sword in front of my chest, baring my teeth at him. Mary shudders when my name is said. "You aren't hurting her, Salt! I am bringing her back with me!" My blonde curls hang off of my dipped face. The blood feels heavy on me, like armor.

Salt slides one edge of his blade along the other, chuckling. "Hurt her? She is way too important, I assume. The Dark will chose what happens."

"I am gonna kill you, prick! You won't get to bring her to the Dark!" I sound more sure than I truly am. I rush the General, and he fades immediately. His body is behind me, a hand on my shoulder.

"This fight is pointless," he whispers. "I can bend you!"

I grit my teeth, and jut my blade over my shoulder while keeping one in front of me for protection. Of course, he only jut out of the way. "Mary, run! Run somewhere!" Where was she supposed to run to, retard? I mentally scold myself. Yet, anywhere but here was good.

"I can bend what you see~"

I felt my sword stick inside of something. My eyes widened as I realized it wasn't Salt; he was still talking.

"I can bend what you do~"

I turned my head over my shoulder, afraid of the apparent truth. My blade was buried in Mary's eye, and her pale moth was hanging open in shock. Her single un-wounded eye was wide with shock. I saw my reflection in her eye. My black eyes were slack of tears, and my smooth skin was dark with blood. Red trickled dowon her chin, and the meaty hole swollen around my blade had spurted blood all the way up against the metal.

On instinct, I pulled it out. Dead. She was dead. I clattered the blade to the ground, grabbing for her body rather than protection. "Please tell me you aren't real... Please tell me this is just Salt fucking with me..."

But she was so clear. Bends were blurry. Her blood, her beautiful inky curls... They were all in so much sharp detail. I was on my knees, holding her in my arms. My sobs hurt, feeling like prickly folds in my throat. My tears were hot, down my face. "Don't be real... Please don't be real..."

"Real? Yes. This is real. I put her in front of me." Salt's voice said. "She isn't valuable. She doesn't even know how to use her element! You, on the other hand~"

I couldn't even speak. I could only give grief-muffled screams of protest and desperation. I gripped for any excuse I could to keep her there. We never danced yet. At Dillan's. We never got to dance. Why would I hold my tongue on everything I was going to tell her? Now I had to hold it on my tongue forever.

No...

I turned around, gritting my teeth. "SALT! CROMA DAMN YOU, YOU FUCKING PRICK!" I refused to believe that she was dead. The limp body in my lap was not the end of her. Because the end of her was the end of me.

Salt appear behind me. "Tsk, tsk~! You manage to kill a lot of people, you know? Or, at least, that's what Gary figures. One question, how is my son, Oliver, doing?~ He was always the prettiest of my children!"

I rushed for the sword at my side and, in a flash faster than what I was used to, I savagely sliced it against him. He appeared in front of Mary's body.

"Hmm. You didn't even get to say goodbye. Pitiful~" He gripped for Mary's limp, pale hands.

"LET HER GO!" I lifted my sword to complete the throat, but he lifted her body up.

He began to make her move around in a limp dance. Cold blood dripped to the ground as her body flopped around. "Oh!~ Just like a puppet, huh?"

"Don't touch her..." My voice croaked this time. I don't want to break. My sword twitched as I lifted it, but it was too much weight for me. I fell on my knees and hands, too weak to even keep myself up. With the last of my strength, I called Mary's name. She couldn't have gotten that far. I knew how fast she ran. She would hear me if this was only a bend in my mind.

"I am afraid that she can't hear you anymore~" Salt let Mary drop in front of me. I squeezed my eyes shut so I didn't have to see it.

Salt tilted my head up with one of his swords, and I was too weak to protest. The other sword pressed against my throat. "Actually, we only need you dead to have what we want~"

There was a lous pop, and blood began spurting out of Salt's chest, all over his silk clothes. His dark eyes went wide, befopope began chuckling. "Three of you on one day?"

"Shut it, Salt. You know that I can kill you," said a girl's strangely accented voice behind him. "Emma can't..." I glanced up to find a pearl-white gun pressed against Salt's jaw. The stranger was still behind him; I could see their beautiful angel wings spread out behind him. She was obviously bending herself so I could see the real her. "But I can!"

Sweat beaded Salt's forehead. "Let me see you try, Nahara~"

The gun slammed against Salt's temple. He cried out, blood running from his ear. The girl, my temporary hero, Nahara, came into view as he sank to the ground. "Salt, these bullets are made of Croman bones. If one goes through your brain, you're totally erased."

"Whatever. Leave. Mary is gone. We have enough to fuck up your little hero act~" Salt gave a crooked grin, and Nahara slammed the gun against his temple again.

Salt fell on his face. He didn't get up.

Nahara put the gun in her pocket, and glanced down at me down on my knees. Her wide, icy blue eyes were much more beautiful in reality than Dillan's pictures. They were flawless and piercing. Her hair, slick but not greasy, fell in long curtains against her body. Her angelic wings practically glowed, and each feather was erect and splayed. She wore red, and looked more curious than urgent.

I pushed myself off the ground, fighting the dizziness. "Nahara Claire... Dillan told me about you. Murondoes. You control light, don't you?" Each word was croaked and struggled. I didn't want to see Mary, whose body was at Nahara's feet.

"Yeah... Emma. Oliver told me about you." Her smile was gentle, almost as if she knew that a drastic move would break me. She was right, but I wasn't about to let her know that. "We have to go."

I dipped my head as Nahara began leading me away from the scene. I picked up the sword to bring with me. The angel girl took me by the wrist. I made one last glance at Mary, mouthing a gentle, final goodbye. Then, we made our way back to where I came from. Gary's portal.

The picture is Mun. Please, please, please vote and comment! My reads are going up so fast, thank you guys!!