I hugged my bag to my chest as I took a spot beside Oliver in the truck. I propped my chin on top of the bag, cowering down low enough to get head-level with my Apotropaic. We had made our ways into the storage part of a big truck under the driver's nose, dangerously. Sadly, Caleb hadn't been able to get us a safe way out.

We had already crossed into California.

I took in a sharp breath. I thought of Mary Clarkson, and how there was a void in everything she would soon fill once again. She wasn't a very physical person, but there was even a gape in where she hadn't touched me in so long. Soon, everything would be filled again, not that we would immediately be in LA or anything. It excited me, and I wondered if I would end up dropping Oliver.

As the truck hit a bump, we were jolted up a bit and Oliver instinctively made a grab for my arm. I felt pain spike through my spine as I slammed against the metal and Oliver made an attempt to soften the landing. I gave him a glare, and he smiled apologetically.

Nahara lifted her head. "When do you think we will get off of the truck?"

"More importantly..." Fango included, "How do we get off?"

Dillon shrugged. "Carter and Man tried to get off at an earlier stop, and you saw the outcome of that... They were shot. We need to be careful, but also not get carried away to some place far away."

Ace sighed. "I hate to agree with him on this one. The Apotropaics... It doesn't matter if their vessel dies. But the Extants... That's an entirely different story. They were born on earth. They die... Except for Nahara, that is..." His black eyes went towards her in an emotion that was difficult to pick up, but looked like a mixture of sadness and longing and even a bit of hatred. I could tell that these emotions weren't exactly directed at her, but they still seemed as effective.

Delta hugged his knees to his chest. "I hate to agree, but we really do need to be careful. This isn't our stop. Not yet."

I leaned against Oliver, feeling impatience weaving over me. I couldn't wait much longer for Mary Clarkson to be saved. Each minute was lagging into an hour in my mind, each second a minute. My heart thudded as if in anticipation, even though I knew it would be a while before we got to LA itself.

Oliver hooked his arm around my shoulders, making me flinch away the smallest bit before he gave me an apologetic glance. "Sorry... And I know you can't wait much longer..." His tone lowered. "Is... something else wrong?"

"I just don't want you to touch me." A part of me wondered if when Mary was back, I would knock out the replacement, Oliver. When the black-haired faerie was once again in my arms, would it end up shoving the white-haired demon aside? Then, a larger part of me didn't care what happened to him. He was merely a stand-in... I think. After this, surely he would return to simply training me? Surely he wouldn't really be hurt by that? But what did I know about the emotions of other people?

His eyebrows creased in worry. "Oh. Okay. Sorry..."

I suppressed comforting him and simply rolled my eyes. "It's fine." Without another word directed at him, I turned to face Dillan. "How will we know when to get off?"

Fango was the one who answered, "Leave it to me. I can use my element to find out what it's like around us. I will inform you when a good time to get off is..." He pressed his glasses back into place and muttered, "Even if the truck is moving..."

I had fought Death alongside an airplane hundreds if miles up in the air. Getting off at the point of a moving truck sounded alright to me, as long as it was necessary. I could just use my wind to make sure the landing was safe.

Here in the darkness, there could be nothing so pure yet filthy. Here in the darkness, every sinner was a saint.

He put an arm around me, muttering something. I could hardly hear him, but I chuckled a response and kissed his small nose.

And I realized the decision was mine to make.

"You started nodding off," Oliver said, smiling curiously. "Did you even hear Fango?"

I shook my head, mildly irritated. How come he could so easily break me out if the trance if my vision when I normally went hours on end living in them? "No. Sorry."

"We are getting off in a few miles!" Nahara piped.

My heart thudded. "Really?!"

Oliver took my hand against my will, grinning. Each tooth glittered like a star in his mouth, his eye, of course, being an even brighter one compared to it. His skin was soft against mine, almost like calloused silk. It was in that moment I chose defeat. If Mary were to come back, I wouldn't replace Oliver. He had been my friend through good times and bad, and those were the people worth keeping. He had kept me up through everything, from the death to the kidnappings, from the smiles to the visions. It was time to push aside my suspicions about people themselves and let a few come through. I didn't talk too much with Dillon like I used to, but I had let him through, hadn't I? Oliver was my friend. I cured myself for ever wondering if he would be otherwise, just an Apotropaic. I squeezed his hand thankfully with a small smile. A friendly one. I would not replace him after this Hell of a journey was made. After all, he had been by my side... He was mine, I was his, in the sense of friendship.

Oliver seemed to notice me relaxing, and sighed in relief. "I know... Mary will be here soon. It's great, isn't it? It will be great for all of us to be completed with the Minium. Especially you..."

"For me... It will feel like..."

"Going home?" Nahara finished for me with a shrug. "I figure that's what it will be like..."

Before I could cast her a grateful glance, the truck jolted. My body sprang forward, and Oliver brought out his arm to protect me from being slammed across space. That didn't keep him from slinging across the space by himself, pushing himself in front of my to soften my landing. We all flew through the air, slamming into the boxes that were stacked against each other. The boxes crushed against our weight, the food inside exploding.

I think a dorito hit me in the eye.

Oliver gripped my shoulder and turned me around mid-air, his body covering me like a protective blanket. Of course, it didn't matter if his physical form died. However, I felt cold fear force itself through my veins for the people that could. There were too many people in the cargo that could die, landing a wrong way in the tin box. I opened my mouth to yell something, but the sound of crumbling metal and swerving tires screeched over my voice. Oliver tugged me desperately, and I tried to save everyone with my air. However, there was a twitch in my abilities, as if my power couldn't handle keeping it all up.

The last thing I saw was a white-hot light stabbing me through a space of inky darkness, promising me. Promising me that someone here would die.

I took in a deep breath, my hands gripping wither side of an armrest covered in some strange texture. When I opened my eyes, cold sweat rolling down my forehead, I found myself in a room of colors I had never seen before. The deranged symbol figured like a 'three' was inked onto every oddly-shaded flag.

I turned myself towards two thrones that sat on front of me, like a couple of high seats in front of a church. One was empty, and in the other sat a woman with long black hair. Ebony.

I moved my fingers. This wasn't a normal vision; I couldn't control myself.

"Your power is wearing you down a bit, huh?" she said, giving a small laugh of mockery. Her slanted eyes suggested torment.

I bit my lip. "This is real?"

"What even is reality?" answered Ebony. "Perhaps your reality is different from everyone else's. If it is so different, how can it all be the same thing?"

I stood up off the pew, gulping. "Why am I here?"

"Don't betray us." The Kalos warrior was commanding, and raked her fingers through her hair. "No matter what you learn. We did it all for your own good. For the good of the world, if you are selfless."

"Dear Croma..." I clenched my jaw. "What did you do?"

I'm not really Kalos. I wasn't born that way. Lil was...

"Oh my Croma, Emma Whitestone, wake up!!" Someone's voice was far away, gradually drifting closer and closer. My vision was blurry when I could finally muster the strength to peel back my eyelids, and all I could tell was that there was a blurry face above mine. They were shaking me desperately. Even their screaming was muffled by a loud ringing in my ears.

I didn't have much will to speak or open my eyes wider than a slant, but I skipped my finger up against the sleeve of their jacket gingerly to let them know I was okay.

In time, I recognized him as Oliver, crying and yelling my name over and over. People all around us seemed to be holding each other, crying. All except for who appeared through my clearing vision to be Dillan and Nahara, seemingly looking for someone.

I gasped in a deep breath and shakily pulled myself up the slightest bit before Oliver gave in and pulled me into his lap. He cradled me against his chest, not that I could protest. He kissed my forehead over and over again, which I didn't like but couldn't fight.

"I told myself you were sleeping!" he wheezed. "I told myself you couldn't feel anything bad!"

I mustered the will to murmur in a freaking voice, "Too bad... It all hurts like a motherfucker..." My muscles ached uncomfortably, and I gripped him shakily, trying to steady myself.

"Stop... You're going to hurt yourself.." He moved his leg under me, burying his face into my shoulder.

"Are you... okay?" I ventured.

He nodded. "I think I may have broke some ribs and one of my legs, but it's worth it to protect you, my lovely... Extant..." He squeezed me desperately, but carefully. As if I were gold dust, and I could be lost on the wind at any moment.

"Stop... being so... touchy..."

Dillan looked back at us. The box around us was dented in every way, and there were parts where the metal had been ripped open and the light shone through. His purple eyes looked to be welling with tears, and he struggled to stand in the spotlight.

We had lost someone.

He clutched a note in his hand.

The tacosexual came to his bloody knees on the ground, shaking as he let out a cry of rage and anguish.

Ace had died.

More importantly, Fango and Delta had been kidnapped.

And the note was a taunt, written by the demon Salt himself.

Sorry that this chapter sucked.

Sorry updating took so long.

I might not update again. I am... contemplating things.

Vote and comment.

It will mean a lot to me even if I am not here...