There were no pretenses anymore. I knew I was dreaming the moment I opened my eyes. The dirt walls and cruel eyes of the witches were far away as I lied on my back against the sleek marble of the Quincy's dance hall. Walls of fire shook and flickered around me, but I could not feel their heat. I remembered the floor being unnaturally cold as the sun sank into the trees, but I did not feel it against my bare skin. The brightness of the fading orange light, the crackling of the raging flames, the smell of death. That was all there, but I felt nothing.

Ash was there too, of course, but she did not speak. Normally, she was quick to great me with a mocking tone or pitch of joy—especially when I realized on my own the reality of my situation—but she did not say a word. The witch merely watched me as I took in everything.

Every now and then, I did watch her. She was sitting on a set of marble stairs that lead down from the front doors. Her pale legs were tucked to one side with that same pale blue dress flowing over her thin frame. It was the first time I had seen it not tattered or destroyed in some way since first seeing her wear it in Mary's dream.

At first, I wanted to be mad about it. I wanted to assume she dressed herself this way on purpose to ridicule me. But, similarly to when I woke up imprisoned with Maple, I was struggling to feel much of anything. There was a passion I knew should be there, but at the same time it felt like something I would have to struggle to bring to the surface. And what was the point? What more could Ash do to me? Surely she had seen everything she wanted to. She even said so herself. And without Ninovan's Knowledge I did not have the power to kick her out or wake myself up. Was I just meant to stew here until the other witches were ready for me? Was I to go through another round of torture? Had they already found Mary?

"Mouse continues to elude them," Ash's soft voice echoed from across the ballroom. "Your screams did not summon her."

"Who told you that?" I asked, staring up at the ceiling and not expecting an answer.

"Fawn. She agreed to subject herself to my world as long as I aided her Master's efforts. It seemed a promising idea, but you familiars are not much different than everyone else I have seen. Perhaps angrier, sadder, but those are still base emotions. After seeing you and Stallion, it grows weary."

"I don't know what you expected. We're still human...just a little messed up and torn apart."

I made myself sit up despite the great pressure on my body telling me not to. Ash was watching me closely as I did, so I assumed it was her doing. Indeed, after struggling to remain upright an invisible force shoved me back down into the polished floor. The fire surrounding us jumped a few inches higher in that instant, but quickly died down to their normal consistency.

"Sorry. I was told to keep you docile. Your mind must remain as calm as they desire."

"Since when have you started following orders?"

Ash locked eyes with me and did not answer right away. While she mostly kept her face void of emotion, I could tell there was a struggle happening somewhere behind those wide, blue eyes.

"I suppose it would not be a great risk to tell you. My arrangement with Fawn would be enough for you to eventually come to the answer yourself." Ash rose from the stairs and strode slowly until she was near the center of the room. From there, she held out her arms and spun in place in a calm, deliberate motion, her eyes looking at the beautiful architecture in-dispersed between great plumes of fire. When she stopped her spin she was looking directly at me, her face just as blank as before. "Sonsetta and her city failed to keep me safe. Stallion's Master fought for awhile to retain her power and control while continuing to follow Wildwood's instructions, but eventually her pride won over the need for humility. Instead of allowing Wildwood to use her and her people to hunt down her familiar and his friends, she chose to fight them. I do not fully grasp the concept of time, but I do not believe it took long before her city fell and she and I were captured."

Ash walked the short distance to reach me before kneeling down so that our faces were closer. Her large eyes watched me without blinking. I found the pressure increase on my body as I held her stare, but I did not look away. I would not break first.

"They are just using you," I said to the witch. "They do not care about your well being. You'll be tossed aside as soon as you are useless to them."

Ash quirked her head, allowing some of her long, blonde hair to fall on my shoulder. "Isn't that the way of all things? In my experience, it is how everyone progresses in the world I can no longer reach. I believe I am doing the same to them but—"

"You lack the power to toss anyone away," I cut in.

Ash paused, then dipped her face in even closer to mine. The sudden proximity made me try to scoot myself backwards, horrible flashbacks to the last time she had kissed me going off like fireworks in my head, but of course I still could not move. The witch placed a delicate hand on my chest, and it was like being crushed by the weight of a mountain. I gasped at what air that I could as my ribs threatened to crush in on themselves.

"I have more power than you can imagine, Alex Foxy," she whispered to me, her expression calm even as her blue eyes burned deep into my brain.

"In here...maybe," I choked out, still refusing to look away. "But...not...there..."

Ash released her hand and I immediately sucked in great breathes that quickly broke down to ragged coughs and gagging. I hardly noticed the pressure leaving me as it allowed me to roll over and grasp at my sore chest, fighting through the agony of it all just to take in a simple breath. The witch remained kneeling close by and watching. She only spoke when I had gathered enough of myself to roll back around and face her.

"Yes, as I understand it, out there I am nothing but a doll. I cannot move and I rely on others to care for me. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if my body would cease to exist, but it terrifies me all the same." Ash stood up slowly when I shot to my feet, but she made no moves to stop me. She only watched as I backed away from her. "I lost my ability to experience the world I can no longer reach when I was just a small girl. It has been so long, I do not even remember what my own experiences of it were. Not a single memory. You had me believe you and your friends were similar to me. It made me curious to see what dreams you possessed when you no longer had your own memories to influence them. But you mislead me."

I was locked in place to the marble floor. In the eternal shadows of the setting sun, I could see the fire suddenly thrown backwards and licking the walls of the room as if a great wind had suddenly expanded from the center of the room.

But there was no gale or raging storm, only Ash.

"None of you are like me," she continued, her once bored tone crumbling away against a growing, shaky emotion that I was not prepared for. "Your memories were not gone, just locked or hidden away. What I saw were not reflections of the emptiness that I feel. You all hurt and suffer and struggle just as much as anyone else, the only difference was that I had to fight all of you to get to those base, meaningless experiences. You put me through hell for nothing, Alex Foxy."

The color was fading from the world. The oranges, reds, and blacks were gradually being consumed by a grayness that stretched out from the woman who was walking with a purpose towards me. It started with her, eating away at the blonde hair and the blue of her eyes and dress until she was completely void of color and light. From there, it stretched outwards like a creeping and crawling wave of vacuum. I didn't want to know what would happen if it reached me.

"Maybe you feel like you are empty, Ash, but that isn't all you are," I said as I fought against a body that wanted to remain right where it was. I tried to find her eyes amidst all the blurring grays her body had become. "Your curiosity and, as much as I don't like it, your cruelty is part of who you are. Would you have even bothered going through hell if you were truly empty? You are as much of a person as anyone else. Sometimes suffering for nothing is just part of the bargain."

"You do not understand." Ash's voice echoed throughout the dying chamber. When the colorless void reached the fire, the sounds of its crackling flame faded as well as the color. I could only brace myself when it reached me, but was taken aback when it seemed to separate, leaving my body intact while draining the floors and structures close by. "You live a life I could never hope to. You press forward with choices that are impossible for me."

The grey blobs that were Ash stopped just a few feet away, morphing and churning with a hopeless inconsistency. "I cannot even have my own dreams. What you see and know as Ashling is only something I created after seeing how others see and know me in their dreams. And what they know is a doll. I had no friends or family who dreamed of me. There are no memories to cling to. I am not a person. I am nothing."

The pressure keeping me in place suddenly released, forcing me to fall on my knees at the lack of tension. I was afraid to stand right away and only glanced up at the grayness that towered over me.

"You're still alive, aren't you?" I asked it. "You still hurt. You get angry. People leave an impact on you and you certainly leave an impact on others."

"It is all fleeting. What life is there when my feelings fall on deaf ears? When everyone forgets?"

"I haven't forgotten," I pressed, raising my head to look at Ash directly. "My friends haven't. We forget a lot of things, but you haven't been one of them. There are actually a lot of things I would very much like to forget now because of you, but I can't. You fought to bring those memories back out of me. You made me remember who I was and the life I used to have and it's because of you I have even more reason to hold on to the life I have now despite how shitty things seem to be. That isn't something a nothing could do, Ash."

The world around us was starting to morph and melt together into the formless grey blob Ash had become. I was quick to regain my feet, but they still found purchase on a floor that appeared to be nothing but a shapeless mold that restlessly churned beneath me.

"You are very foolish to try and comfort someone who has done as much as I have to you, Alex Foxy." Ash's voice continued to be everywhere and nowhere. Now that the world was no different from her, I could no longer see if she stood before me or not. "Is there something you are hoping for, I wonder? Do you believe kind words will sway me to help you in some way? You truly do not understand what I am. What I desire. Though I have accepted that you familiars have nothing new to show me, I believe your kind to be the closest I will ever achieve to seeing a reflection of myself. And while we are not alike in many ways, Alex Foxy, I do understand your concept of hope. Perhaps you and Stallion's gender served as just another barrier. Perhaps your female companions will have far more interesting things to show me."

Before I could speak, the blobby grey reality suddenly flowed down and away like a waterfall. The pulpy, churning mass revealed two scenes as if two different realities were pressed together in adjourning rooms. On one side was Kat, sitting in a meditative style I recognized from our training days and appearing more in a trance than someone sleeping. On the other was Mary. Her tiny body was curled in on itself, her clothes riddled with dirt. The scenery of a thick patch of woods and a dark, narrow tunnel nestled themselves unnaturally against one another. The two women appeared but walking distance from one another, when in reality they had to be miles away.

"I do not know if you are aware of this, but it is very rare for these two to be sleeping at the same time. This is fortuitous for what I wish to accomplish."

I tried to snap back at Ash, but I found my voice would not come out. Panicked, I then attempted to scream at Kat and Mary, but even as my throat strained and my lungs ran out of air, silence was all my attempts were met with. My breathing was quick to return, sharp and painful, when I looked down and saw that the colorless void had reached me at last.

"Perhaps you will better understand me after experiencing what it like to be me, if only for a short while," Ash's voice whispered in my ear before ringing out stronger in the dual spaces Kat and Mary shared. "If nothing else, you and Stallion have served as necessary stepping stones in growing my own abilities. While I had to struggle to bring out your darkest memories, I believe finding theirs will be much quicker."

As soon as Ash finished her declaration, Kat screamed. It happened in an instant. When before it was a serene scene of her meditation, the familiar suddenly fell backwards as she writhed in agony. The sounds coming from her were the worst I had ever heard. Her cries were long and wracked with sobs and moans.

I was there in an instant, but could only watch in quiet horror as my grey hands sunk into and through her body. I could not feel her, and she could not feel me.

"Kat!" I cried through the only way of communication I had left. "What's going on?! How can I help?!"

But Kat only continued to scream and thrash. She was gripping savagely at the ground with one hand while the other was digging into a stomach that was slowly starting to expand. I could only watch with a mixture of fascination and horror as her stomach grew while the rest of her body shrank and thinned. In a matter of seconds, I was looking at a Kat hardly in her teens with a swollen stomach stretched out against an extra-large t-shirt.

When the transformation was done, Kat just laid there. She wasn't screaming or crying, but her green eyes stared up into the night sky with nothing behind them. If she had never blinked I would have assumed she was dead.

"Teenaged pregnancy," Ash's voice mused from somewhere around me. "Such a mundane thing to be so ashamed of."

"Shut-up," I hissed at the witch before falling to my knees beside Kat. I know she couldn't feel it, but I placed a hand on the small one that lay still against the grass. "Kat? Can you hear me?"

I froze when the young girl looked over at me. Nothing registered behind her eyes. I couldn't be sure if she heard me or not. Not until she spoke.

"I don't want it. Can you make it go away?"

Before I could answer, some other male's voice I did not recognize answered for me. "You're too far along, Elizabeth. Christ, if this was how you felt why didn't you say anything months ago?"

I turned around, but there was only Mary curled in her dark corner of dirt. From this close, I could see her shoulders shaking as she continued to hold herself. She was mumbling something too quiet for even me to hear.

But I could see just fine. I could see how much smaller she had become. At least half the size. At least six or seven. And I could see the purple and yellow bruises decorating the tiny arms that were trying and failing to warm her up.

"Parental abuse," Ash informed in her dull tone. "Something I know you are familiar with."

I didn't even bother to respond to the witch. Leaving Kat where she lay for the moment, I walked the few steps needed to be at Mary's side. When I kneeled down to her, I could finally hear the words she mumbled beneath her breath.

"...and the princess said to the knight, 'I would happily escort you through these dark and lonesome woods. There are many dangers here. I would hate to see you hurt.' So the princess and the knight held hands as they walked through the woods. The knight felt far safer with her hand than he had ever felt with his sword..."

I listened closely to the young girl whisper out the story between quiet sobs and did not even realize I had been crying until the tears began to drip down my nose. I knew she couldn't feel me, but I hovered my hand until it appeared I had it resting on her frail shoulder.

"Ash," I called, not bothering to wait for a response before continuing. "What would it take to get you on my side? I will do anything you ask."

"Ah." Ash appeared directly across from me, kneeling on the other side of Mary's limp body. When she placed her hand on top of mine, I felt it. "Now you are beginning to understand."

...

When John regained his sense of self, he found he had traveled far from the mountains and the sparse expanse of trees and boulders. He was in the middle of a journey, in fact, surrounded by thick collections of wildlife that kept the sunlight at bay. He nearly tripped over his own feet at the feeling of waking up from a deep dream, but someone caught his arm.

"Careful," the feral girl his brother cared for whispered to him. "Be calm."

Her glowing eyes darted to something to his right and John looked to see the beast that was Ninovan. She was in a form he had likened to a werewolf, but far from the well put together images he had seen on TV. Many of her muscles appeared misshapen with her white fur patchy at best. Her breath rolled out heavy in the cold air as she struggled with a massive burden riding on her back. The young familiar had to keep himself from exclaiming when he got a clear look at Tusk, and the bloody, bandaged stump that dangled freely from their creator.

John immediately slowed his place so that Ninovan was ahead of him, the girl, Swan, slowing to match him. He glanced backwards to see his brother and Gus a good ways behind them, seemingly wrapped up in their own conversation. It was hard for John to say whether he was happy or not they were still around. As it was, he appeared to have only one person to direct his questions towards.

"What's going on?" he whispered to Swan.

"Hunting," she said with a severe glare. Clearly telling him to stop talking.

"For food?" he asked anyways. John was never good at taking hints.

Swan shook her head from side to side, making the thick clumps of her blonde hair sway and remind John of how badly he missed hot water and shampoo. "For family."

That gave John pause. Was she talking about his father? No. A sudden desire to hurl rose up in the boy when he remembered the last thing he saw before falling into whatever sleep had come over him. His father had been there. Or, more accurately, he had been in two places. Head in one and body in another. He tried to tell himself it was what his dear old dad had coming, but even he didn't know if he could have done something as savage as that, even if his newfound strength allowed him to do such a thing.

But instead of dwelling on something that couldn't be changed, John pushed the bile down and thought more on Swan's answer. It didn't take much thought. If family wasn't his father, then there was only one other answer.

"Great," he muttered mostly to himself, but still received a sharp elbow to his ribs.

"Quiet," Swan hissed a second too late.

"Crow? Swan?" Ninovan's long, misshapen head turned slightly so that her yellowed eyes could peer at them. "Forgive me, I was not aware you both had returned to me."

Her voice was ragged. Hollow. It rung in John's head while her grotesque, black lips did not move an inch. It was so much like how his shadow would sometimes talk to him, but worse. At least he was able to tune out his shadow when he didn't feel like listening. This was different. Her voice crawled in somewhere deeper. It gripped with talons too sharp to touch.

And he could vaguely remember this feeling. Like an invader in his own mind. The shadow always felt a part of him—if not a darker part. This was like a worm wiggling and writhing inside his brain. A sensation he could easily recall before losing track of all time before this moment. It was something she did, and he needed to figure out what.

"Where did we go?" he ventured, tensing when he felt Swan's clawed hand dig into his shoulder. Not breaking skin, but definitely making a point.

"It is alright, Swan," Ninovan assured before turning away from them. There was an ache in her words. Like she was in pain, or very, very tired. "You did not go anywhere—not physically. There is a witch among those in Wildwood who has corrupted my own power with his. He has made it so that all my children must also become his children. His power to command others infect my every word so that I must strain to watch what I say around my own kin unless his power takes hold. It brings me great pain to see any of you suffer under his filth and it is one of the many reasons why we must find our runaway children and bring the fight to him and his ilk."

John let the new information sink in as they walked through the dark woods. Ninovan wasn't keen on continuing the conversation as her very steps were becoming labored and limped, her breathing a more and more forced endeavor. Behind them, Jack and Gus had become very quiet. It seemed odd to the young familiar just how silent their surroundings were. No breeze, no animals, just the quiet crunching of their steps on the few leaves that remained on the ground.

"What happens then?" he asked into the silence. He could almost hear his brother and friend tense. Swan gripped him harder, but only slightly.

Ninovan did not turn around. She stumbled once, but heaved her burden further up her back. "I promised your brother I would free Swan. I promised your shadow I would protect you. Once all of Wildwood has been razed there will be no one left to chain or threaten you. You all will be free to remain with me or to make a life all your own."

Silence. John could feel the eyes of his companions burning into the back of his head. Some with questions. Others with accusations. But he didn't know what he would say to any of them. Was Ninovan telling the truth? Wasn't there a good reason all of the other familiars besides Swan fought and tried to escape her?

He wasn't about to ask such things of her. Not someone he was almost positive had torn his father's head clean off his shoulders. Not someone who looked more like a monster than anything he had seen in his short, strange life.

But there was something else he could ask. Something that ate away at him more and more as he watched the witch struggle under the weight of what she carried.

"Ninovan?" he called. "Tusk is dead. Shouldn't we bury him?"

"What?" came Swan's voice as her hand practically flew off his shoulder.

"Shit," his brother hissed under his breath.

John was never very good at taking hints. But he was sure he had screwed up somewhere when Ninovan stopped moving. She didn't turn. Didn't breathe. Then, with a slow and heavy sigh, she raised herself and allowed Tusk's limp, lifeless body to roll off her back and topple to the ground.

"Ah," she said, a voice now in the air and not in John's head. He almost preferred the latter. This voice was more of a primal growl than anything remotely human. "I suppose he is."

The youngest familiar felt his entire body grow ice cold when she turned and leveled her yellow eyes on him. It lasted only a moment as she soon moved on to Swan and the others, but it was enough for him to get the hint. Stop talking. Do not talk again for a long, long time.

"Gus, I know we lack the proper tools, but if you would help my children dig a proper grave for Tusk I would be grateful."

"Y-Yes, ma'am," Gus quickly said and soon enough the three of them were digging.

Hands and knees in the cold dirt. Digging small handful after small and pathetic handful. The sounds of their breathing and exertions the only thing to be heard in the forest. And all with those piercing yellow eyes boring into the back of his head.

John knew Ninovan had gone out of her way to avoiding 'commanding' him directly, but right then, in that moment, he desperately wished he could forget.

B{SA̸