A couple days later at five in the morning, Alex found himself transformed on top of a high roof, eyes closed. He blocked out the sounds of the wind and distant cars and tried his best to concentrate.

The night had been long and stressful. He hadn't gotten a single wink of sleep the whole time, and therefore had spent hours lost in thought. The main topic was about the strange, apparent fight with Preciser on Friday.

Judging from the knowledge he did have, he'd had some kind of crazy adrenaline rush on the guardian level, which apparently had side effects of leaving him drained of energy and with partial memory loss. Despite that, he wanted to learn how to control it.

Now, he slowly opened his eyes. His vision seemed to have changed slightly; every movement around him appeared slow yet fast, blurred yet clear. More noticeably, all his senses felt supercharged, and he felt like he could run a hundred miles.

He summoned his blade and for a few minutes walked around practicing some fencing techniques. Then he dropped the weapon and blinked a couple times. Immediately, exhaustion replaced his energy, and his memory started to fade. He sank down to the floor and sat there, panting; a few minutes later he found himself sitting on top of a roof in the middle of Milan with no idea how he got there or why.

• • •

A few hours later, about ten minutes before his classes began, he was back in his civilian form and walking to his highschool. He still hadn't gotten any sleep since he'd arrived home from . . . wherever. Maybe he'd fallen asleep after all, had started sleepwalking, and gotten a little carried away? Although he wasn't sure he could transform in his sleep. The memory was there— he could tell— but he couldn't get a hold of it.

Back in the present, Alex picked up his pace a little; he was probably going to be late . . . again. As he passed an exceptionally large alley, he glanced casually inside and stopped as he saw an unexpected object in the back.

A car.

At first glance, he thought he was hallucinating. The typical lack of sleep made him often see things that weren't really there. But this time, he was able to walk up and touch the old vehicle, which was covered in rust. He ran his hand softly over the car's roof and frowned.

Somehow, it seemed familiar.

Cautiously he tried opening the front door, and felt a rush of surprise when it opened easily. The inside seats were dark gray and soft, and the dashboard was coated thickly with dust. Spotting a crumpled piece of paper near the pedals, Alex reached down and picked it up. At once he stiffened and his eyes widened, his mouth parted with shock.

It was a shopping list, written in Greek. And he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere.

No way . . .

Memories started to cloud his mind, briefly confusing him, and he shook his head to clear it. The car's color was definitely the same, other than being slightly tinted with rust. The inside was the same as well, and then the shopping list . . .

Then he thought of something that would confirm it: what he'd been staring at in the backseat on the way to the orphanage! He scrambled out of the driver's seat and yanked open the rear door. Even though he was almost positive it'd be there, what he saw still made his heart skip a beat.

Sitting neatly in the front seat's back pocket was a green book with a pink flower on the front.

Now that he was seeing it all in person for the first time in so long, things became too much. Suddenly he felt like a little kid again— confused, hurt, and desperate for answers. Phrased that way, however, not much had changed.

He took a deep breath and stood up, trying to shake it away. Logically, he thought, his father had been here. He'd probably driven straight here after leaving Alex at the orphanage. But now there was no trace of him at all— nothing to hint where he went after leaving his car in this alley. Alex's spirits plummeted. He'd dared to let himself hope for the smallest moment that his father was still alive, but now he could see it'd been in vain.

In his sweatshirt's pocket, his phone vibrated, then began ringing. Glancing down at the screen, he recognized Jakira's number. He tapped the green circle, then held it to his ear and said quietly, "Hey."

"Alex, class is about to start!" His friend's voice was an urgent whisper. "Where are you? Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," he replied, trying not to let his depression show through his voice. "I'm on my way. Something distracted me, that's all."

"Okay, just hurry up," her voice persisted.

"I will," he assured her. "See you soon." He hung up, snapped a few pictures of his dad's car, then put his phone away and took off through the busy streets toward his school.

-

He was still thinking about what he'd found by the end of their last class. He and Jakira were walking out of their classroom when Ms. Elena called, "Jakira, would you come to my desk for a few minutes?"

Jakira froze, looking back and forth from her friend to her teacher, then slowly ventured back to Ms. Elena's desk after a nod from Alex.

Alex hesitated by the door for a moment, wondering if he should stay or not. He only had a few minutes before Preciser would attack, and even that time was running out. He stared anxiously at Jakira, and she flashed him a "You're good" sign. Relieved, he turned and rushed down the halls to the front doors.

After finding a dark enough place of privacy, he'd barely finished transforming when a thunderous crash sounded right outside his hiding spot. He flinched, then narrowed his eyes and sprinted out to meet his foe. As soon as he saw Preciser's scowling face, he summoned his weapon and yelled, "Den t pareis pote ta petradia mas! Den katalavaineis?"

He didn't even realize he was speaking in Greek till the words were out— he'd just told Preciser that he was never going to win and asked how he couldn't see that— but Preciser glared down at him and snarled back, "Etsi? Plesiasa arketa sto parelthon."

His mind automatically translated the words: "So? I got close enough during the past."

The villain swung his axe violently, and Night leapt nimbly to the side to avoid the strike. "Oi andress echoun dokimasei tetoia pragmata, allow pote den pianei," he continued, trying for once to reason with the stubborn giant by pointing out how his quest for power was merely a repeat of human history. It wasn't going to work, since a mortal could never have ultimate power. "Enas thnitos den mporei pote nha echei then ypertat dynami."

Preciser slammed his huge blade into the ground in frustration. "Oxi!" he roared. "Kanis lathos! Auto den itan pote menu gia then exousia!" He swung his weapon wildly at Night again, this time in a way that couldn't be dodged. Night tried vainly to block it with his own blade, half in shock from Preciser's final words, but the hit was far too powerful. Both weapons collided, and the force knocked him backwards and high into the air. The world spinning around him, he was barely able to see that he was falling towards a roof. The impact knocked the wind out of him, making him nearly black out on the spot. His head was spinning, from both actual dizziness and dazed surprise at his enemy's words.

"No! You're wrong!" the giant had shouted. "This was never just about power!"

For the three and a half years he'd fought this enemy, as his ancestors had during the last several hundred years, he'd always assumed that Preciser was just ridiculously greedy for power. All he'd ever done was fight them for their gems, never hinting anything else, other than his surprising persistence in trying to achieve his insane goal.

Night groaned feebly as he tried to push himself off the roof. If it was never just about power, what was his initial motivation?!

But his consciousness was already fading. That question was the last thing to go through his mind before a flash of pain in his head made the world turn black.

-

The next thing he knew, he was still lying flat on his back, and a pigeon was standing right next to his head, cooing and pecking at him occasionally. He forced his eyes open, blinking the fuzziness from his vision, then moaned and smacked the bird away. He slowly sat up with a deep breath and gingerly touched his throbbing head. But even as he staggered to his feet, he could feel the dark gem's magic working: his headache faded and his mind cleared up again a lot faster than it would've if he'd been in mortal form. 

Preciser's words rang again in his head, making him jump. This was never just about power.

A little shaken, he walked to the edge of the roof and peered over the side. As he'd expected, Preciser was nowhere in sight. The only evidence he'd ever been there was the massive cracks in the road.

I gotta tell Sunray about this. It might be a key to defeating him for good. He glanced around the streets below him. Where is she, anyway?

Thankful for the clouded sky, Night turned and began racing along the tops of the buildings in search of Preciser. He'd only been running for a minute, however, when a female cry of fear caught his attention. Pinpointing the sound, he changed directions toward it, but skidded to a halt in terror as he recognized the girl being cornered by the giant.

It was Jakira.

His terror, which had been purely for her safety, changed to fury. No one touched his friends, period. He lunged off the roof, slid into a crouch on the street, then jumped up and sprinted towards the two. Flinging himself between them, he summoned his seax and jabbed the blade at Preciser. "Don't touch her!" he snapped.

The giant hesitated, his eyes darting back and forth between the two in front of him, then continued with his attack. Jakira pressed herself against the wall as Night, seething with rage now, flew at Preciser with his blade pointed toward him. Preciser moved quickly to the side, but Night followed with the same speed and landed a vicious blow on his enemy's leg. The giant king roared so loudly he shook the ground, then swiped at him blindly, but he was out of the way already. Panting slightly but still at his full strength, Night backed up a little, extending a protective hand toward Jakira and raising his weapon at Preciser as the giant staggered off; with a warning glare at the guardian, he vanished.

Night relaxed slightly, though that last look's intention was clear: It's not over. Brushing aside his worries, he turned back to Jakira. "You okay?"

"F-Fine," she stammered, her green eyes wide. He let her reply calm him as he touched her shoulder and led her to a shop's entrance nearby. The person at the front of the crowd inside, however, shook his head frantically as they neared. No room, he mouthed.

Seriously? Night bit his lip, then turned and started walking along the wall to another door; he didn't realize the sun had come out again until he ran straight into his barrier.

His frustration growing, he stepped back and frowned, then stiffened as he realized Sunray would be able to help. He solidified his weapon and swept his hand over the blade, but nothing happened even after several attempts to contact her. At last he gave up and dropped his blade, not noticing Jakira facepalming behind him.

Then another idea reached him; he straightened, then turned to his friend and asked, "Are you scared of the dark?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Good." He paused momentarily, then pulled her close, summoned a shadow portal, and stepped inside. The place he had in mind couldn't possibly have no room. However, something deafening flared up through his head while in the brief, black world, and they ended up reappearing a block away from his original destination. He stumbled and fell to his knees, stunned and bewildered. Had Preciser figured out how to affect him even in another dimension?

Jakira took his hand and helped him back up. "Everything okay?" she asked in alarm as Preciser's bellow sounded far down the street.

"Yeah," he answered distractedly, then nudged her gently but quickly around the corner. "Living room, fast," he instructed, pointing in the direction of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. As she turned and raced in the direction he'd gestured, Night looked back at the giant charging him in the distance. Sunray still hadn't shown up, but while he was worried about her, he had to do what he could in her absence to fend Preciser off. Despite the danger of the situation, he couldn't help a tiny smile; he had a pretty good idea already.

Placing his hands against the barrier, he closed his eyes and focused. The memory of what he'd been doing that morning finally surfaced in his mind as something in his power seemed to slowly take control. Somewhere, he could sense a spreading darkness similar to darksweep, but this one seemed endless . . .

His eyes snapped open in alarm all of a sudden. He couldn't use this magic; he didn't know where Sunray was! If she was transformed, he could accidentally hurt her with it.

With all concentration scattered into panic as Preciser drew closer and closer, he whipped out his weapon and frantically swept his hand along the blade, but once more there was no reply. Desperately he tried again and again, muttering, "Come on, Sunshine, I need to know if you'll be okay . . . !"

Suddenly a soft hand slipped over his mouth from behind, and he stiffened in shock. But as he started to turn around, the person's other hand reached from the right and forced his vision straight ahead. A female voice whispered in his ear, "Don't look. But here's my word: I'll be fine." His eyes grew round in amazement as he realized that this girl was Sunray's secret identity. She lowered her hand from his mouth to his shoulder and added, "Now go get 'em, Night Hawk."

He nodded, still half in shock from what was happening, and her touch vanished. Meanwhile Preciser had come to a stuttering halt, gaping at the mystery girl behind the superhero. Trying to stifle his quickly-growing anxiety over his partner's new level of vulnerability, Night forced himself to relax again and regain his focus. This time, he got it faster; sounds around him faded into the background, his mind filled with the strange blackness. And when he slowly opened his eyes to find his surroundings changed once more, he saw Preciser quickly cut off his second charge with an expression drowned in uneasiness.

After that, things got fuzzy. He remembered lunging forward as the darkness he'd sensed in his head turned into reality. He saw the sun blocked out almost completely, leaving a single powerful beam of light that scorched the ground it touched. Sunray joined the confusing fight swiftly within that beam, though he thought she looked different somehow. But in his state, he couldn't place it.

Then, in a weird flash, it was all over.

His head spinning with exhaustion, Night stared wearily at the wall he was gripping for support. Leaning against the same surface a few feet away, Sunray didn't look much better off. He guessed she had her own version of the same power. For a few moments he stared at her, trying to think. Wasn't there something I was going to tell her . . . ? He tried remembering what had happened before the fight, but suddenly it was all a blur.

"I don't know about you," she panted finally, meeting his eyes tiredly, "but I feel like I could sleep for a year."

"Yeah," he agreed slowly. Delirium clouded his head, and he more or less heard himself add with a lopsided grin, "You know what? I'm gonna do that. And then when I wake up I'll be an adult! Yeah."

His partner was staring at him, but he was too tired and confused to wonder why.

They ended up flopping into an alley to rest up for a bit. He vaguely remembered them trying to have a sensible conversation, but their minds were so frazzled that it ended up going something like:

Night: "This is the weirdest thing I've ever done."

Sunray: "Yeah . . . same."

Night: "Maybe we should go home."

Sunray: "Noooo . . . I'm still asleep."

Night: "No, you're not."

Sunray: "Yes, I am."

Night: "You're talking to me."

Sunray: "I'm sleep-talking . . . Well, call me when I'm awake."

Night: "What."

Sunray: "I mean when I'm asleep."

Night: "Sunshine, you're not making no sense."

Sunray: "You have bad grammar."

Night: "I am bad grammar."

Sunray: "What?"

Night: "I dunno."

Night: "And anyway, how do I call you? You're not a phone."

Sunray: "Yes, I am."

Night: "You're a phone?"

Sunray: "Yeah, so call me."

Night: "I don't know your number."

Sunray: "It's 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10."

Night: "Oh, cool."

Eventually they came to their senses enough to realize they had to get home before their parents began to wonder where they were.

At least, his parents.

After hugging his partner goodbye, and remembering his words from their last meeting, he ran as swiftly as he could over the roofs of his city in the direction of his neighborhood. But after hopping down into the usual alley, he hesitated before detransforming. In his right pocket, the dark gem felt strangely cold.

Half concerned and half confused, he pulled it out, but its piercing frostiness was so intense that he had to switch hands holding it.

Weird . . .

Despite his bewilderment, he said his deactivation words, but got an extremely unpleasant surprise along with it. Before he could finish detransforming, pure terror gripped him like fists made of ice. He lurched back against the wall with a startled gasp, and his eyes flew open wide as a series of pictures flashed before his vision. They were moving too fast for him to see clearly, but he saw glimpses of torchlight, golden blurs, and red. Accompanied with the midday nightmare were screams and sounds of battle that chilled him to the bone.

Overwhelmed by it all, desperate and terrified, he fell to the road with his hands on his head and eyes shut tightly. Then, as quickly as it'd started, the horrifying vision shut off.

Trembling with fear, he slowly pushed himself up. The dark gem was no longer in his hand; he'd dropped it in his panic. It was lying on the pavement a couple feet away, as dark and ominous as ever. As he picked it up with shaky hands and began to head back home, he expected the icy fear gripping him to eventually ebb away.

But it didn't.