A herbal, woody smell fills the room, and I cough when the smoke glides past my nose. Kwami holds his ashen, scarred hand out, offering me a puff of a joint.

"I'm okay," I say, awkwardly shaking my head and waiting for him to give me all the answers he promised, but it doesn't seem like he's in a rush to do that.

Ever since I entered his office, filled with uncomfortable chairs, a desk and two red cabinets, all he has done is offer me everything but what I want. I , admittedly impatient, have turned them all down; water, food, jackets, and a yoyo. I do regret rejecting the jacket, though.

He sighs, looking at me with a blank face. I watch as he uses his desk to put out his joint, pushing it against the wooden object more times than are needed, his movement getting slower with each press.

"Sorry," he lets out a chuckle, which kind of sounds like someone stifling a cry. "I never thought I'd meet you."

I look at him, unsure of what to say but happy the conversation I want is on the way. He scratches his head for some time, pushing past the tight coils covering it.

"I should have searched for you harder. Or started." He shakes his head. "It was difficult, and honestly, I didn't want you on this journey. It—it isn't for the weak."

"I know that by now."

He smiles sadly, and I join him, thinking about how weird it is that people even try to smile when they really don't have the heart to.

"What do you want to hear first?" He tries to straighten up, but the way he pauses suggests, to him, the room has started to spin. Instead, he leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk and resting his head in his hands before looking up at me. "But I think you already know what happened to your granddad."

Although it hurts to think about it, helping others is just what Grandpa did, and I smile when I think about his kind heart.

"He gave his soul in the cave, so you could get out, didn't he?"

"He said that he already got to live out his life and let my pops and me get out." Kwami looks like he is remembering something. "Not that it amounted to much."

I look at him with disgust, angry that he does not seem to appreciate my grandad's sacrifice.

"No, that came out wrong. I'll always be grateful to Uncle Peter. I owe him my life. It—It's just that my...well, my old man..."

Kwami rubs his neck, seeming conflicted about whether or not to finish the story. I don't need him to. Blair already told me that his dad went to jail, and I don't expect a stranger to give me the details about all of that. I think Kwami just feels bad that the chance they were given didn't lead to anything good.

"My dad was charged for Peter's murder and my attempted murder. "

"What?" I can't contain my shock.

"Have you tried talking to anyone about what happened down there?"

"You're," I try collecting my thoughts, "not really sticking to one subject. How could your dad be charged for that? Did he hurt my grandad?"

"No."

"Then what!"

"There's a curse people get when they step into that place," Kwami continues. "If you enter, you can't speak about the events that happened there to anyone that hasn't been there. You can say who died there but not how. You can't even describe the layout. No details. Did you know?"

"A curse?" I ask, still processing the issue of his father's charges.

"My body was bruised and blood was oozing out many wounds after we fought some creature. Pops carried me out of that place, but my blood stained his shirt. "Your," Kwami hesitates, "granddad's blood stained the shirt, too. The creature hurt him. I'm sorry."

He pauses, allowing me to actually process everything he is saying. Kofi really went to jail for my grandad's murder and the curse stopped him from explaining himself, not that many people would believe him.

"We were unlucky to bump into an officer. He kept asking us where the blood came from and why I was so hurt, but we couldn't answer. The curse didn't allow that."

"Oh my gosh," I whisper.

"My dad isn't perfect. Combine his past with that event and you end up with a murder story and an apparently abused child."

I don't know what to say. This isn't what I expected, and it hurts to know this is what Grandad's sacrifice amounted to.

"No one had your number, and when I told the officer's about you, they refused to visit The City of Vessels. They wouldn't even call."

This doesn't surprise me. There's a lot of terrible thing people do just to stay out of a Vessel's way, even not giving a child the closure needed.

As for not calling, they might just hate Vessels or want to control my emotions. I doubt a call with that information would've even got passed Ms Chan.

"I'm sorry, Amora. I didn't have the strength to find you."

He avoids my eyes, but there isn't any need for that. I can understand all the bad he went through. I'm just glad I know everything now.

"I'm sorry about your dad." I outstretch my hand and squeeze Kwami's. "I think he'd like what you're doing here. I heard you want to free the captives."

Kwami raises his eyebrows and his eyes light up. He looks like a child who has just received a compliment for all his efforts. It's cute.

"Sorry I might have ruined your plans."  I bite my lip in embarrassment.

"No, you didn't. We'll get up." He smiles at me, and although I feel like he is just saying this so I don't feel bad, it's nice to hear. "Wait."

He pulls a drawer open, and I hear him scramble through it. I stand up from my seat in amazement when he pulls out Hades' Clutch and places it on the desk.

"You got it back!" I can't believe I even forgot about the clutch. Everything really was happening too fast. It's a good thing Kwami has it, because I'm not willing to sacrifice another soul to get another one.

"Not the one they took from you. I've kept this one for years." He hands the clutch to me. "Uncle Peter wanted it for you."

I grab the clutch, weirdly feeling closer to Grandad than I have in months. It almost makes me cry.

I lower my hand, still conflicted about continuing the journey.

"Are you okay?" Kwami notices my change in mood.

"Heh," I force a chuckle. "The journey isn't for the weak."

I'm glad to speak to someone who understands. We share the same scars from that place.

"No journey worth it is," He smiles, "so I'm sorry I kept that from you."

Now, the tears fall out of my eyes. I don't think I've ever cried this much in my life, and I'm not sure it's a good thing, especially for a Vessel.

Although Kwami doesn't seem scared by me showing emotions, I remind myself to calm down.

He's right, though. The toughest journeys often have the greatest prizes. At least, that's what I believe. Regardless, I'm starting to remember that I don't have much of a choice. I either continue, or I'll be stuck holding an evil in me that I'm sure will kill me soon.

"And with your condition, you might want to hurry." He looks at my Vessel mark, and I do the same, noticing it's more faint than usual.

"I've been burning up and fainting and coughing up red dust." I turn to Kwami. "What does it all mean?"

Kwami rounds the desk to be on the same side as me, taking a seat on top of the desk after doing so. I watch as he analyses my mark, and I'm not sure I like the look on his face.

"You're cracking."

"Cracking?"

"I've seen it once before." His fingers graze the number. "The Vessel's body was too weak to hold the evil, so one day, without her feeling anything much, she was triggered. You have the symptoms."

I fall back onto the seat and tilt my head up to face the roof. Maybe there will always be something to stress about.

"Cracking." I soak up this new information. "How much time do I have left?"

"When was the first time you coughed up dust?"

"When I got here."

"Then one day."

I turn to Kwami, eyes widened in fright. I almost want to kick him when he starts laughing.

"Sorry," he laughs. "Bad joke."

I wait for him to calm down. The joke is far from funny right now, but I'm sure I'll laugh about it much later.

"A couple months maybe." He looks behind me, and I turn around to find Luca and Nova standing by the door. "But you should hurry."