My night got a lot more complicated than just eating dinner, having a shower, and going to bed. I won't bore you with the details of how dinner went, because it went as normal, despite everything being the furthest thing from normal. I tried to ask Jade if she knew anything about Ms Boroong, and Mr Gladiare, but she refused to answer. Typical Jade, being her typical annoying self.

So, I had to get my answers from someone else. I had been holding off from asking Mors, because it would mean I'd have to die, and last time that happened, it took me twenty-four hours to come back to life. I wasn't keen on having to explain that one to Samara.

But sometimes you have to do difficult things for the great or good. Or, you have to do difficult things so that people finally explain what the fuck is going on and why some red light is trying to murder you.

Jade refused to be there or help, saying I was being stupid, and that Mors didn't explain before, and he won't explain this time. I probably should've listened to her, but hey, she can't tell me what to do. If I want to do something stupid and dangerous then I will.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Zak said. "What if you're out of commission for a really long time? How am I supposed to explain that to Mum?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I conceded. "But if you were in my place, you'd want answers."

"Okay, but is dying really the way to get those answers?" Zak asked, pointing to the knife in my hands. "I just think a little research would be better than this. I mean, Ciara might as well be a book titled 'The Entire History of the Human Race.' Because that definitely sounds like a much more reasonable option than killing yourself. Again."

I sighed. "I've already endangered you by letting you get involved," I explained, "and that was only because it was the only way out. If Ciara got hurt because I chose to get her involved, I don't know what I'd do."

"Oh, come on," Zak waved my remark away. "You choose to hurt people all the time. Just ask Enzo."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "This is different."

"How so?"

"Because I didn't kill Enzo," I crossed my arms, "and Ciara is my friend."

"Okay, but like, what if you've only got a certain number of chances?" Zak looked down. "What if the next time, you don't come back?"

I looked at him, and immediately felt guilty for asking him to help me with this. I understood that I had endangered him, and he understood that, but he wasn't concerned for himself. He was concerned for me. After everything with his Father, myself and Ciara were the only ones to stick with him. Having to watch me die over and over again would have to cause some serious problems.

I looked away from him, not being able to meet his gaze.

"How about you go?" I suggested in a low voice. "You don't have to keep watch."

Zak fiddled with his fingers and gulped, before shaking his head with a look of determination. "You can't get rid of me that easy. We're officially in this together."

I smiled at him. Zak definitely had the award for best cousin in the universe. I didn't know of anyone that would put up with all of this for a cousin they only used to see three times a year.

I held my breath as I moved the knife to point it at my chest. For some reason it felt unnatural to do it that way And impractical. I'd never really thought about it, but when I killed those people at the Clark Corporation lab, I always went for the throat. Which was why they were so easily able to cover it up, and so those poor families wouldn't know what I had done...

I shook my head. I couldn't think like that. They had kidnapped me, tried to turn me into a lab rat, and threatened Zak. Not to mention they were clearly planning to use that destructive chemical for something. Definitely not a miracle cure though.

I took a deep breath, but, stabbing myself in the chest was just not how I rolled. The neck was softer and had less bones in the way. Stab someone in the throat, and blood will always fill their lungs to choke them. Stab someone in the chest, and there were higher chances of surviving. So, rather than stabbing myself in the chest like I had previously planned, I stabbed myself in the throat. It was much more effective that way.

You know how this goes. My senses left me, until there was nothing but white, colour appeared after an eternity, blah blah blah. The point is, I died. Again.

Somehow, it felt like it took less time for me to end up at the Altar. I sat up and saw Mors, talking to a little girl, who looked like she couldn't be any older than nine. What they were wearing surprised me. Mors was dressed in some referee clothing, and the girl was dressed in black pyjamas with a red breastplate made of leather.

If Ciara had been there, she'd be able to tell me which period the armour was from, and how effective it was. But she wasn't, so I had to take a wild guess. Problem was, I didn't know enough about history to do that. It looked like metal, but it moved like fabric. I was pretty sure there was no known substance that did that. But hey, I was good at biology, not chemistry.

"Freyja, I don't have time for this," Mors said through gritted teeth.

Freyja, the nine-year-old girl, twirled a loose strand of blonde hair in her fingers, and swung a dagger in her other hand.

"But Dad," she whined in an accent that somehow sounded both French and German, "Mum hasn't been the same since you left. She's moody, and she blames me! Why can't I just live here and help you with the newbies?"

Mors' nostrils flared. "Because you're only nine!" He exclaimed. "You need to go to school! You need to get a proper education! The Dirksdotcher family—"

"All hate me!" Freyja shouted, with tears in her forest green eyes. "Please Dad! Mum acts like I don't exist half the time!"

Mors shook his head. "When you're older you'll understand." He sighed. "The rules are put in place for a reason. If we break them—"

"You broke them for that Fiona girl!" Freyja's eyes looked like they had started to glow, but I decided it was just my eyes adjusting.

Mors shook his head. "Flora is a special case," he explained. "I had to break the rules. According to that incessant Maddie, if I told her the collision wouldn't happen, and then he would win. Do you want that?"

Freyja pouted and wiped her eyes. I noticed she had the same markings as me on her hands, but she didn't have the gemstone on her forehead, and – were her ears pointy?

"Freyja...," Mors spoke in a gentle voice, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder, "everything will be okay. I promise, once you're sixteen, you can make the choice to stay or leave."

Freyja stepped away from him. "Whatever," she grumbled. "I'll just go home and let Mum ignore me. Seems to be all anyone ever does..."

Freyja stormed out, and Mors sighed, looking down sorrowfully. I would've felt sorry, if it weren't for the fact that he was going to abandon his child like that. Did no one in this messed up world love their children?

He jumped when he noticed me, alarm evident in his forest green eyes. The same colour as Freyja's. I could see the similarities; you'd have to be a fool to think they weren't related.

"How much of that did you hear?" Mors asked.

I went to get to my feet, before wincing and thinking better of it. No sudden movements, death takes more energy than running lapethons.

"I heard enough to know you're a terrible Father," I glared at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Believe or not Flora, I'm one of the nicer ones," He crossed his arms. "The children of Vagos, for example, usually end up homeless, because Vagos doesn't think a human could handle their children."

"Vagos?" I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you all have such strange names?"

Mors shook his head. "Is your name not unusual?"

I opened my mouth, but quickly closed it. I mean, he had a point. I have never met anyone with the name Flora, and I've seen literally one TV show character with the name Flora. I had once been curious to know where exactly the name came from and found out Flora was some roman flower goddess that no one took seriously. Yeah, fitting, isn't it?

"So, what brings you here?" Mors asked. "Because I'm not going to explain anything to you."

"What's a Protector?" I blurted out.

"I beg your pardon?" Mors asked.

"A Protector?" I struggled to my feet. "What are they?"

Mors turned pale. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," I crossed my arms and glared. "Now tell me, what are they?"

"Why do you ask?" Mors replied.

"I overheard two of my teachers," I explained. "Mr Gladiare and Ms Boroong."

Mors raised an eyebrow. "But Dione wasn't assigned to – Wait, you mean Ron is your Protector? Wow did not see that coming. I figured he would've gotten someone else."

I shrugged. "What does it mean?"

"It literally means what they're called," Mors deadpanned. "They're there to protect the being they're assigned to."

I bit my lip. "Protect us from what?"

"I cannot tell you that," Mors shrugged. "Now if you will excuse me, I have an upset daughter to deal with."

"Wait!"

"Until we meet again," Mors nodded as he left, "goodbye Flora Fickle."

I let out an annoyed sigh and sat down on the floor. I wasn't ready to leave entirely, but my vision started going white before I had anything to say about it. But I didn't want to go back to the world of the living. I wanted to understand what was going on! I wanted answers! I deserved to at least have a few hints as to what the Hell I am!

Mum didn't want to tell me! Jade refused to explain anymore! And Mors is no help! Seriously, why was no one explaining this to me!? Was it some challenge to figure out!? Because it is way too difficult for a nine-year-old to figure out!

And then the white cleared, and surprisingly, I wasn't in my bedroom. I was lying down on the roof of a Red Rooster. Long story short, I was back in the overgrown shopping centre I was constantly having dreams about. Well, I guess I wasn't back at Zak's house, so I suppose technically I got what I wanted. But not really.

I got to my feet and looked around at the mess of a shopping centre I had once gone to every weekend. It was almost unrecognisable. The servo was precariously wobbling around a small precipice. The Hungry Jack's was jiggling like jelly. The Macca's was flapping around like plastic. The IGA was snapped like a twig. The local shops attached to the main building were all shredded like paper mache. And La Fleur was demolished like it was made of pebbles. The Red Rooster and KFC were the only intact buildings for as far as the eye could see. And there wasn't much of a way out with the car park being completely destroyed like a mish mash of materials.

But, when the Red Rooster began to feel like a giant wad of gum under my hands, I didn't have much of a choice but to run. The gum like building clung to my hands and knees, but I persevered, and managed to get to the very uneven ground. And then I ran for the hills.

It was difficult to navigate the ground at first, but after weeks of these dreams I'd learnt to manage. My history of getting into fights probably also helped with my reaction time and strength. Guess there were some bonuses to being that bitch after all.

I hadn't ever really left the shopping centre before because I was a little afraid of what else might be out there. But the only untouched building was a KFC, and I was gonna bet that this red light wasn't a huge fan of fast-food restaurants.

I ran out and found myself dashing through empty fields of dirt and death. But as I kept running the landscape began to shift. Things started randomly changing form, dirt of strange colours like blue and red. It was strange, and the light started bending and expanding at random. It was like I had run into an alternate world of rainbows and shapeshifting.

The unfortunate thing about that, the light kept getting in my eyes and by the time I realised I was about to crash into a sign, it was too late. I lay on the ground, for a second before sitting back up and looking at the building a couple of kilometres away. It was a hospital, but it looked like vandals had attacked it. But then I realised that was just how the bricks were coloured.

I blinked a few times at the very loud and vibrant hospital. It looked familiar, but I couldn't figure where from. I hadn't been to a hospital since I was born, so I figured I'd seen it on the news once or twice. I got to my feet and was about to explore, but something in the distance caught my eye. Something white, and round, with colours swirling around it. Something I'd never hoped to see again.

I ran in the opposite direction. I needed to get away from that thing. I was not going to feel that kind of pain again. I was not going to listen to that stupid voice again. I was not going to let myself be tempted by remaining anywhere near it. And I was rather fortunate to not hear the voice at all.

I let out a sigh but didn't stop running. Not until I tripped over a tree stump and crash landed on the burnt soil at least. When did I cross over from rainbow soil to burnt soil?

I shook my head and got to my feet. But four flowers caught my eye. Four irises. Dedicated friendship.

"Good evening," I jumped as soon as I heard the voice. "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten thou."

What I saw was shocking enough for me to almost leave my jaw behind. It was a girl, maybe a few years older than me, but she was beautiful. Her copper-brown hair cascade down to her elbows, her forest green eyes matched mine, but held much more sorrow in them, her clothes reminded me of what common folk wore during medieval times. Or renaissance. Ciara would be able to tell the difference.

Then I noticed the weapon in her hands. I dangerous, but gorgeous sword. It's hilt seemed to be made entirely out of gemstones, the blade was a combination of colours. Iridescent black, gold, white, bronze, pink, steely grey, and violet-red. The blade seemed to be glowing. Wait, no. Not pink and violet-red. Was that self-luminous red and ultraviolet? No. Human eyes couldn't see those colours. But... I wasn't exactly human. So, was it self-luminous red and ultraviolet?

When I glanced behind the girl, trying to not worry myself with the enigmatic colours of her sword, I realised the giant lake behind her was also self-luminous red. Or pink. It was seriously messing me up.

"Flora, thee cannot run away from thy problems," the ancient figure spoke in a Welsh accent. "Thou has just doomed thy future ally to walk this world alone for months. Now thou must make a choice."

"First, I wanna know who you are?" I crossed my arms.

The girl pointed to herself, as though not understanding what I was saying. "My name is Nimue," she said. "And thou has stumbled across my lake to get away from a future ally," Nimue shook her head disapprovingly. "Now, to thy choice. Left, or right?"

I raised an eyebrow. Was she serious? What was that supposed to mean? Go left, go right? Left-handed, right-handed?

I looked to her left and the sight shocked me. It was the bush of Yallingup, a town outside of Perth. Although, I didn't know if you could really call it a town with how weirdly it was laid out. But it was charred horribly, the ground covered in ash, fires still raging in some of the branches, embers flying around and burning whatever, it touched, rusted toys from a childhood long forgotten. It was horrible. But to my right, I saw the path to the demolished shopping centre. It was familiar, and I would admit, going there felt like the safer option. But something in my gut told me to go left. I'd abandoned whoever was trapped in the hospital, I wasn't going to abandon whoever was wondering the burnt bush.

"Left," I said.

Nimue, smiled, and started walking back into the lake, holding onto her sword. Somewhere in the back of my head, I felt like I should've known this story. A lady, carrying a sword, trapped in a lake... Wait, was she, the Lady in the Lake? Before I could ask, the waves of self-luminous red started receding.

"I knew thou would make the right choice," she smiled, "The Fates are on thy side."

Nimue, and the lake, disappeared. But with newfound determination, I ran into the charred bush, searching for whoever was trapped.