I wish I could say that I didn't sit on a tree stump in the middle of a forest for half an hour or so thinking about where to find a magical pair of shears, but then I'd be lying.

"How can it be closer than I expect?" I think bewildered. "I don't expect it to be anywhere!"

During the course of that time, Elle comes to check on me to see if I've had a breakthrough, but nothing clicks into place. She gives me an encouraging smile that's laced with an understanding of my situation but at the same time showing how alienated she is from the rollercoaster ride I'm on.

It's all too much to take. In fact, sitting here has given me nothing, aside from a fatigued brain and a numb butt. So, just to stretch my limbs and mental muscles, I get up and pace the path a bit.

For some compulsive reason, I can't stop looking at the stone, checking to make sure it's there, that nothing is amidst. While I pace, gnawing at my bottom lip, I absentmindedly toy with the ring on my finger, twisting it in my anxious state.

"This is ridiculous," I murmur in agitation.

But that complaint quickly dies on my tongue as I mull over the ramifications that will result if I don't find those shears. If I can't find the shears I can't use the fire to break the connection, if I can't break the connection then we have no other options, if the others realize we have no other options for destroying this stone then they're most definitely going to want to go back to Ciek Lake to destroy it once and for all, if they destroy it in the lake, though, Xalale dies with it (a horrible death might I add), if Xalale dies then- then I don't know what to do...I don't know why I care but I do...because he's human- they don't know it, they don't see it, but I do.

"No! I can't think like this."

I need to stop pacing myself to death and start searching- something I've actually been doing very little of. I need to stop relying on my mental process to figure things out and just get my hands into the situation.

So off I go into the woods, off the path, forging my way through the foliage and thickets. I have not a clue where I'm going, what I'm looking for, or even if I'll find it but I'm determined to find something.

Marching on, I finally come to a stop.

To be honest, I don't know what inner part of me sensed the trigger that halted me but it's enough for me to crane my head, listening for the source of the sound.

Just beyond, I can hear it: the tranquil, youthful running of a creek. It doesn't babble like a brook or rush and gush like a river, it's steady, yet alive- a true creek. Intrigued, I begin heading in the direction of the noise, my feet leading me until I arrive at the edge of the running water.

For a moment, I simply stand there on the edge staring around as if someone else might be lurking nearby or should be lurking nearby. My eyes slide down to the clear water smoothing down the rocks at the bottom of it. The sun reflects in fractures like stained glass, bouncing light onto my skin.

And then I'm stepping into it.

"Whoa, whoa!"

It's like my brain and body aren't in cahoots with each other anymore- my body has yet again hijacked the main system. I've taken off my shoes and started to step into the cool waters that are rather chilly at first but then adjust.

Wadding my way in a little, I'm rolling with my reactions instead of logic. My shadow is elongated on the rippling current, the water rushing past as if trying to take my shadow with it.

"This isn't too bad," I smile to myself.

I swear, creeks are my natural replenishment, they just make me so strangely happy; somehow the psychedelic experience is even more amped up today.

In my state of blissful glee, the stone slips from my grip and plops into the water. Bending to retrieve it, something bright blinds me- a flash of light. Squinting, I straighten up, searching the water for the cause of the temporary brightness.

Then, my eyes spot it.

I don't know how I missed it before, as it shines like a mirror reflecting the light. Retrieving the shears from the water, I allow myself to admire it for a moment. The things looked like they were made out of pure gold, the intricate engravings on it cast in silver, with blades sharp enough to cut air (it could definitely cut all the tension in my life).

My first reaction is awe, but that quickly changes.

"Yes!" V for victory for me.

My unfortunate chain of events just might be avoided now that I have these.

Skipping merrily out of the creek like a child, I hurry back to find the others. They aren't too far from the location I last left them. As I approach, I can tell they're busy in a conversation.

"-call him the king," Clifford looks to be talking to the others. "He has a name you know."

"It is just the way of things here," Sephora replies.

"Yeah, well I can't picture him as a king. He's just Axel to me."

Before the others can make a rejoinder, I speak up first, holding up the shears like a sports trophy.

"I got them."

All of them turn to look at me, first trying to register the information then becoming relieved once realizing what it means.

"That's good news," Elle smiles, coming over to inspect them. "They're so beautiful."

"Yeah, and it's exactly what we need to end this thing. Come on."

We waste no time getting back to where the eternal fire burns. As if on cue, the young man from before emerges from the shadows.

"You were successful," He comments, the calm fire reflected in his eyes.

At this point, I just want this all to be over. The sooner we cut the connection, the harder it will be for Xalale to track us and the easier we can dispose of the stone.

Handing over the gleaming shears, I hold my breath, praying this will be a simple, quick ritual. So far, as he drops it into the middle of the fire, it seems like it will be a painless procedure.

In the midst of the fire, the stone begins to warm to a golden, white-ish glow that illuminates it. Suddenly, like the stem of a plant, a line grows from the stone, the flames starting to die slightly as the thin, golden white thread sprouts from the glowing stone. The scene brings to mind the Moirai, specifically Atropos. Without fear of the licking flames that bending from his presence, the young man pinches the thread between two fingers, holding it taut as he poised the shears to cut. The thread must symbolize the connection and once it was snipped it would finally be severed.

With everything in place, he goes to cut the thread, ending this madness once and for all.

At least, that was the plan and we all know my plans are never executed in the manner they're supposed to be.

Like a faulty pair of dull scissors, he tries to unsuccessful cut the thread with no results. At first, absolute confusion and surprise overtake his face but it's quickly muffled as he tries again. It's like those scissors you try desperately to make work because they're the only pair you have but they refuse to do their job.

"I- I don't understand..." He mumbles, repeatedly trying to cut it.

My heart- though I really shouldn't have put my hopes up too high- starts to sink like a stone in my chest.

Those shears looked like you could run steel over it and it would cut it in half, I can't believe the sight in front of me with this indestructible thread not even bending under the pressure.

"Is it going to cut?" Elle asks tentatively.

The young man, now, is flustered. Suspended in the same disbelief I'm in as he inspects the shears.

"This is very bizarre, very odd."

"Why won't it cut?" Coxen asks.

At first, he just shakes his head, murmuring to himself until looking back up at me specifically.

"I have never witnessed such a thing before in all my time of practicing this, but my old teacher once did. He told me that the only reason shears will not sever a connection is if there is a force preventing it."

"What type of force?" Sephora questions.

"This force is either ordained by the Fates or there is a stronger, underlying connection to be had."

"What kind of connection?" Coxen prompts further. "Can it be severed as well?"

"For the Fates, one would have to petition them, but the other connection would be reliant upon the one intertwined in the deeper connection," He pauses to look solely at me. "Which would be you."

Confused, I blink. "Me?"

"Yes, you are the one whose shears these are."

As I'm trying to piece this together, Olivos speaks up with another question.

"How does one go about severing this connection?"

"It depends what connection it is."

"How do we figure that out?" Sephora asks, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

"The most common connection will be a resistance to sever it. The person simply does not want to let go."

It sounds as if even the fire has grown uncomfortably quiet.

For some reason, my heart starts pounding irregularly in my ears but not loud enough to drown out the voices around me.

"So," Coxen is the first to hesitantly puncture the silence. "If the person whose shears it is...doesn't want to sever the ties between the object their trying to break away from then it can't be destroyed until that person releases that resistance?"

I really don't want to hear the answer to this.

"It's not necessarily the object as it is the person or persons the object represents. Whoever is connected to the object is the person whom the holder of the shears is still linked with on a different understanding."

I knew I didn't want to hear it.

I can feel everyone's eyes on me- the implications swarming. Hell, I might as well be reading their minds! I know I have to do something or this was going to take a bad turn.

"Can I see those?" I ask, already snatching them from him.

"Come on, you gotta cut." I think frantically as I begin trying, but failing, to cut the thread.

Soon, I lose my composed cutting behavior and start trying to chop away at the stubborn thread like a crazed seven year old with scissors for the first time.

"Mallory," Sephora begins. "It isn't going to-"

And then, with one more frantic cut, I have two pieces of the once whole shears in my hand. Though they looked like gold, it broke like cheap plastic.

Holding the two pieces in either hand looking like a dofus, my brain doesn't even know how to process this at first, neither does anyone else.

"You wouldn't happen to have another spare hiding around here would you?" I ask sheepishly, trying to ease the situation.

From the grim look on his face, I can guess the answer before he even opens his mouth.

"Only one pair exists for each person," He takes the pieces from me. "I have never seen a broken pair, and as far as I am aware they are not repairable."

"I just had to touch them, didn't I? Didn't I!" Groaning, I walk off to the side, covering my face dismally. "I don't know how many times I have to tell myself. I really need to know my place. I break things, I screw them up, destroy them, I don't fix anything!"

"There must be another way," Elle cries.

"The connection must first be broken, it is too strong at this point. I am afraid I have exhausted my assistance; I am no longer of any help. I am terribly sorry."

Though they politely thank him for his time, their voices betray a plethora of emotions ranging from disappointment to discouragement to mounting frustration brought on by the toxic mix of worrisome time constraints and lack of understanding.

Out of all of them, Clifford is the only one to come stand by me and ask if everything is alright.

"Honestly," I exhale heavily, turning around to reply to him but staring at the ground instead. "It's really not."

Shuffling closer, he cranes his head so our eyes meet, making a weak, faint smile play on my lips.

"Don't be sad," He says cheerily. "You can fix it, you can fix anything!"

Leaning against a tree, I give him an apathetic shrug.

"Thanks for your confidence in me, Clifford, but you know I don't fix things."

"Yeah, you do," He counters zealously. "You helped me when my mom and me were fighting about Dean, and you fixed Xalale whenever he got sad and stuff, and you also started that really fun water fight during the town festival- you can fix anything, Mal! You can fix this too."

God blessed this kid. Sometimes I feel like he's the only anchor keeping me in the port.

My smile, though small and muted, became genuine as I look straight at the bright-eyed boy.

"Thank you, Clifford, you don't know how much I needed to hear that."

I was not going to be a failure, I would not let this be another immovable obstacle. This time, it would be tackled.

Just as my resolution is beginning to be revived, the others break from their hushed huddle and approach me with straight faces taut with the unmistakable shadow of weariness. I'm not liking the eerie sense of division in the air already. Coxen, the least worn out of them all, leads the conversation.

"What do we do now?"

It's posed more like a rhetorical question but I dare to answer it.

"Let's ask the book."

They seem to be holding back a collective sigh as I get the book from Sephora then fumble around with the lock, flipping open to a clean page.

"How do I sever the connection to the stone."

"Kill the master."

That undesirable answer leaks onto the page, tainting it with its permanent letters. Blinking, I clear my throat then try again.

"How do I sever the connection without killing its master or going to the fire of Puran."

At first, I'm clenching my teeth wondering if an answer will even come up at all, but the book always gives an answer.

"The master must break the ties."

My heart does a quick pitter-patter. This could actually be going somewhere.

I flip to the next blank page.

"How does the master break the ties?"

"Within them can the ties be broken."

The gears are turning in my head. I need to stay positive, I need to find a way and right now, though a majority of me is doubting my sanity levels, there's a small part of me that urges me to think further.

The more I start to think about it the more the pieces begin falling into place and that little voice with its usual unpopular opinions and ideas is starting to sound like our only salvation. My stomach is in knots and my palms are sweaty but my brain is fired up. Now, the second hardest part: getting the others on board.

Looking at them, my answer to Coxen's previous question is refined.

"The only other way the connection can be broken is by the person who controls it. Xalale needs to destroy it."

From the looks they're exchanging, you would have thought it'd be more rational to suggest that eating mushrooms would make us grow. My one member cheer squad- Clifford- is all for it since it means getting to talk to Xalale.

"Look, guys, I know this seems absurd," I begin, hoping to pull them along. "I'm the last person that wants to talk to him, but he's our only option left. Aelita is relentless and if we want this to be over then we're going to have to-"

"No."

Like the sudden deathly silence of a stormy gust, my words die at the reply of such a simply stated rejection. For a second, my brain is trying to process hearing that word come from his mouth; I'm not used to it.

The others don't contradict his straightforward response, almost like they're in silent agreement with him.

Frowning, I start my protest but am cut off before a word can be uttered.

"Mallory," He sighs in reluctance to continue. "We cannot continue to chase our tails for whatever quest you're on."

"What do you mean? Guys, I'm trying to stop this madness from occurring."

"Are you?" He says in a much too pointed way. He must realize his tone and so he returns to being tired. "It doesn't feel as though you're acting with any..."

I cast him a narrowed look. "With any what?"

As he flounders for the word, Sephora doesn't hesitate to dish it out.

"Without any logic," She cries, clearly upset. "We've tried since the beginning to make sense of this but it makes no logistical sense the way you're going about this."

Taking a brief glance away to collect my words, I look back at them in a calm manner.

"Then maybe I can spread some light on it."

"Why?" She blurts. No direction in the question, just a vague why.

"Why what?"

Coxen jumps back in. "Why the effort?"

My frown deepens. "I can't answer a question this loose end-"

"Fine," He cuts to the chase. "As a friend, I'm wondering why the king seems to matter so much to you? I knew from before there was something but I didn't want to entertain those ideas until the first time at the lake then just recently on the hill. Are you doing this for his benefit? Are you doing it for ours?"

This scene was getting a little dicey and my first concern is with Clifford being in the midst of this, so I look at him and speak.

"Clifford, why don't you go find that creek I found the shears in? There was some small fish swimming in it."

Though he starts to comply, he gives me that knowing look that reads that he can see right through my distraction. Just as he's skipping off, Elle pipes up.

"I will go with you. I want to see the fish."

It's an even weaker excuse than mine but I can tell Elle isn't comfortable with this friction, neither is Olivos, so they both hurry after Clifford, leaving me alone with the two people I knew would band together on this issue.

"My question still stands," He says softly, his eyes crisp, watching every detail of my face.

"Why can't we at least try to persuade him to destroy the stone?"

While he shakes his head in disbelief, Sephora makes her protest more vigorously known.

"There is no persuading the king! Why would he listen? Please, Mallory, listen to yourself, listen. Our worlds are in crisis and we do not have the luxury of putting our chances with the king."

"If I could just talk to him," I argue. "There's never any harm in trying."

"We have no time to try, we don't," Coxen explains exasperated. "I know your moral compass would not feel justified sacrificing one life for the lives of many, but how unfair, unjust is it to all those innocent souls who have to be the price?"

Releasing a heated breath, I give them a curt smile that houses no genteel reference to it and speak in a steady tone.

"I will not allow anyone to make rash decisions based on panicked feelings-"

"But that's all you have been functioning on! Emotions!" Sephora explodes, wiping all traces of a smile off my face and taking me back.

I think her outburst even takes Coxen by surprise.

"You have been with us, among us, this entire time but you have not thought of our wellbeing! Not once. I listened to your words, you have used the words 'I, me, my' more times than you've included us. I don't understand, Mallory," Now she looks hurt by this. "We have been so loyal to you, trusting your judgment and you have not been thinking about the wellbeing of the people who put their trust in you. What has that tyrant done, what has he given you that deserves your complete dedication to protect him?"

Like a mute, I simply blink in response.

Nothing forms on my tongue, nothing comes. Silence is not the answer she's looking for and so she begins to storm off, blinking back angry tears. Finally, I call out to her.

"He's given me nothing but a knife in my back." That was the truth but somehow it didn't feel quite as candor as before.

Turning back to me, she speaks up.

"Then I am even more confused than before. What drives you to help him?" It's such a genuine question.

Looking between them, I reply. "I don't care about him."

For a second, a wave of disguise rolls across both of their eyes but lingers in hers as she starts to turn her back on me again.

"I wish I would get more in return for my loyalty than lies."

With that, she makes her way through the forest with storm clouds still brewing. Coxen glances over at me for a heartbeat before following suit.

Here I am, with a choice to make, relationships to mend or break. Squeezing the stone in my hand, I stare at their retreating backs before making up my mind.

Without another thought or hesitation, I'm off- for once- to be the seeker rather than the hider.