Night couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so hurt.

Just a few seconds ago he'd been standing there, watching dumbfounded as Preciser gave away what he'd been longing to find out for years. Just when he'd told himself to give it up. But the emotion he felt at getting half the answers was not satisfaction; it was pain.

And in certain ways, he felt betrayed as well. It wasn't that he'd ever liked the giant to begin with, but he'd fought against him for so long, without the slightest clue of what he'd been guilty of the whole time.

"No . . ." he murmured in disbelief at last. He didn't remember moving, but he found himself leaning backwards against the wall, his blade no longer in his hand. Then, his shock and grief slowly converted to fury. To a bitter desire for revenge.

His subconscious shifted into a different control, twisting his normal thoughts into something dark and cold. The last thing he fully recalled was growling, "You? All this . . ."

Regarding the things that happened next, he was only partially aware of what was going on; the sky turned black again and his vision altered. The last beam of light was focused on his unconscious partner, therefore strengthening her.

He remembered lunging forward with more freedom than he'd felt in a long time, and he remembered hurling an attack at Preciser with every drop of energy he had in him. Fueled by anger, his memory seemed to skip the fight, but in a very short time he had the giant king pinned down with his frosty blade pressed against his throat.

Narrowing his eyes furiously, angry tears streaming down his face, he snarled, "I spent ten years without him asking myself over and over again, hundreds of times, what happened to him. And all this time, it was you?!"

Preciser tried desperately and vainly to push the burning cold weapon off his throat, his expression more terrified than ever seen before, but with the power Night was using it was impossible. Sitting in the blinding beam of light nearby, Sunray was beginning to stir.

"In the end," he continued confidently, "you will not be getting our gems, Preciser. Thanks for answering half of my life's biggest questions!" He forced his weapon down even harder. "Now I'll have more than just my city to fight for."

Bellowing, the giant rolled over until he was on top, but Night kicked him off, making his opponent stumble and crash into a building. He jumped to his feet and charged again. Though he knew there must've been another fight, it was not in his memory when he found himself standing alone on the street, back in clouded lighting, his weapon not in his hand and his chest burning as he gasped for air.

It being his fourth time using that power, he knew he was supposed to feel exhausted afterward, but this time, that was only a fraction of the reason he felt so drained.

The realization had hit him like a train.

And it'd hurt just as much.

He was very vaguely aware of Sunray asking him something from behind, but he felt too numb with shock to respond as he slowly backed into a wall and slid down to the road. His head was spinning with a mixture of physical exhaustion and emotional depression, but his partner beginning to move away was what jolted him back to the present.

"No, wait . . ." he burst out, suddenly terrified of being alone. "I'm sorry—I couldn't . . . I didn't . . . it—"

She sat down beside him and took his hand gently, her emerald eyes glimmering with sympathy. "It's okay," she murmured. "I understand."

He turned his gaze back to the road, no longer sure what to feel. Relief? Comfort? Confusion?

"I don't know why it was such a shock," he said at last, and Sunray glanced at him. "It's just the type of cruel thing he'd do." He sighed.

Sunray was watching him intently. "How long ago was this?" she asked eventually.

"Ten years," Night answered quietly.

"So you were seven."

Startled, he looked sharply up at her in shock, his eyes betraying his obvious question. His partner lowered her eyes and admitted, "I . . . kinda figured it out from something you said."

He stared at her, not knowing what to say.

"You're seventeen?" she added, probably for clarification, and he nodded in silence. A quiet moment passed before she went on softly, "I don't know if this helps, but . . . my dad died when I was three. My mom told me he was protecting me from Preciser. So I can— in a way— understand."

Sadly he turned his eyes to hers, where he saw an expression that he was far too used to wearing. He adjusted their clasped hands so he could rub his fingers over hers. For several long moments they sat there together, each lost to a distant world of sad memories.

"Single parents," he said finally, causing her to stir. "One thing we have in common." Then he realized his mistake, and corrected himself, "Or used to, anyway." He paused again. "My mother died in childbirth, so I don't remember her at all. My dad showed me pictures of her, though: their courtship, engagement, wedding . . ." His voice trailed away as he almost lost himself to his own words. Sunray stared at him in shocked sympathy as he took out his gem and locked a stoic gaze on it. The jewel was transparent, since he was currently using its power, but it still looked dark because his hand was gloved in black. "I guess I was the perfect host for this power," he muttered at last.

It seemed to take a few seconds for her to realize what he was saying, but when she did, he heard her gradually inhale. "No," she said firmly, "don't say that. You know it's just the darkness you can see."

But her words did nothing to help. He felt completely unable to meet her eyes as he replied bitterly, "I saw the pictures. I saw him leave me. And . . . I can see . . ." 

"'See . . . ?'" Sunray echoed, sounding confused.

Suddenly an all-too-familiar coldness swept the air around them, followed by a distanced warmth. Sunray gasped and hastily scrambled away from him into the light as the sun emerged from behind a cloud, reforming the barrier.

In those moments, however, Night didn't move. She had to move away, he thought miserably. She had to move away from me to be safe. Feeling lost in sadness, he reached out, placed his palm against his side of the barrier, and finished softly, ". . . this."

Silence.

Then, to his surprise, he felt her hand meet with his. He looked up, taken aback, to find his partner watching him with pained and knowing eyes. "That's one burden we share," she reminded him softly, shocking him even further when she slid her fingers slowly between his into the darkness. "You're not alone, Night; I'll always be here for you. I promise you this: nothing—not barriers, not pain, not the deepest darkness—will ever stop me from helping you."

Their gazes locked as he stared at her, stunned. He knew she cared about him, but not that passionately, even though he knew he would do the same for her. Now, as he looked at her, he didn't know what he'd ever done to deserve her as a partner and best friend. In that moment, it seemed as if she was the only one he had left in life.

Ignoring the barrier and the searing pain that came with passing it, he put away his gem, crawled into the light, and hugged her tightly. He knew it was only him who would be hurt if they touched while both in light, so he wasn't afraid to embrace her like this. Besides, in his grief-stricken state, he felt like if he didn't keep her close, he would lose her.

He heard her inhale sharply at his movement, and her response was very slow and hesitant. She probably didn't want to hurt him more, but he didn't care about the fiery pain that was burning him terribly. Only when he started to feel dizzy and his mind began to slip into darkness did he finally let her go and struggle weakly back to the shadows.

"You okay . . . ?" she whispered, and he nodded feebly.

Once he felt normal again, he took a deep breath, then rose to his feet. Sunray did the same, and once they were standing, their eyes met once more for a long moment. Blue with green, sadness with longing, unknowingly love with love.

Drawing in another long, silent breath, he placed his hand on the barrier one last time and said simply, "Thank you."

She gave him a mere smile in response. "Anytime."

The two exchanged waves and soft murmurs as their farewell, but even after he was left alone once more, Night returned home in much higher spirits than he'd been in for days.

-

Unfortunately, the happier feelings didn't last very long. As soon as Alex deactivated his magic, a wave of anxiety swept his optimism away. Even though he knew it would happen, it still caught him off guard.

Tension gripped him firmly as he made his way quickly down the street to his house. His adoptive parents were too busy arguing about something in the kitchen to notice him as he came in the front door and immediately headed for his room.

The door closed, he practically fell into his desk chair and stared blankly at the papers covering the table in front of him. It was mainly a huge load of homework he needed to catch up on, and the thought of doing it only stressed him out even more.

Groaning loudly, Alex slumped forward on top of them, then slowly slipped down his chair until he was lying sprawled on his back and staring at the ceiling. "I'm literally going to die if I don't get rid of this stupid anxiety," he muttered to himself out loud, knowing very well his words were true. All it had done to him was wear him out, make his insomnia worse, and cause him to be so tired and distracted that it was hard for him to do everyday activities.

He pulled his arms to his chest and rolled over in a curled position, struck by a sudden chill. Nausea started spreading through him, which made him moan and curl up even tighter.

An abrupt set of knocks at his door sounded a few minutes later, but by then he felt so faint and nauseous that he didn't respond at all.

"Alex —?" His mother's hazy-sounding voice cut off, followed by a rush of quick footsteps and a hand on his arm. "Why are you on the floor?" she exclaimed in shock. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I didn't faint, if that's what you're wondering," Alex muttered, then opened his eyes and forced himself to sit up. "I was just tired . . ."

"Then you should lie down on your bed, not the floor, doofus." His mother's eyes glinted with amusement. He accepted her outstretched hand and more or less let her pull him to his feet, since he felt so weak he wasn't sure he could do it on his own. "Someone's here to see you," she added, smiling.

After steadying himself by sitting down on his bed, Alex glanced up to see Jakira standing hesitantly in the hall. "Hey . . ." she ventured quietly.

Alex blinked. His friend looked and sounded just as nervous and shy as she had the first day they'd met. She'd left that behavior with him behind as soon as they'd grown close, but now . . . ?

"Hey, Jak," he replied, trying to sound as welcoming as possible so she would regain her usual confidence and endearing sass. "You okay?"

Jakira nodded, then moved forward into his room. "What about you?"

"I'm good," he lied, forcing a smile.

She seemed to relax after that. Taking a few more steps forward, she flopped onto his bed beside him. "Winter break starts in a week," she said hopefully. "Two weeks of no school. That might help with your situation, if it hasn't stopped by then."

Although her words were meant as encouragement, they only made his heart sink. "Maybe," he sighed unenthusiastically, lowering his eyes.

She gave him a sympathetic look, then wrapped her arms around him. "I'll help you," she whispered.

He took a deep breath, then smiled tiredly at her. "Sorry for being so pessimistic. I just . . . I have so much homework I need to do, and I haven't slept for days . . . There's way too much that—" He broke off, then muttered, "Never mind, I'm just complaining now. Sorry . . . again."

"Stop apologizing!" Jakira scolded. "It's not your fault!"

"Sorry —" Alex slapped his hand over his mouth as she shot him a teasing look. He couldn't help but laugh a little at the situation, which made him feel a little better.

-

Her visit did help. Talking with her about positive subjects was somewhat relaxing, and when her mother called after several hours asking her to come home for dinner, he found himself reluctant to see her go.

It was a feeling he'd grown painfully used to.

Now, sitting alone in his room once more, worry started to gnaw at him again. Slowly, he leaned back on his bed and tried to relax enough to get some sleep, but sleep refused to come.

He jumped so badly that he almost fell out of bed when Annah poked her head into his room and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," he sighed, trying to recompose himself. "Sorry, you scared me."

His little sister walked over to him, plopped onto his bed, and snuggled up beside him. "You've been acting weird," she informed him.

"Oh, I have?"

"Yeah. You don't come out to eat with us anymore, and you're so jumpy."

Alex sighed again. "I'm sorry, Annah . . ." he started hesitantly. "I've just got something going on. It's hard to explain."

Annah straightened importantly. "I'm seven now," she reminded him for the fiftieth time that month. "I'll understand if you tell me."

He managed a laugh. "Well, that's the thing. I'm ten years older than you, and I'm not sure I understand."

She frowned. "How is that possible?"

"I dunno . . . it just . . ." He hesitated, looking up as he tried to think of a way to explain it. "I feel like something terrible could happen at any second, but I can't control it. It's kind of involun—" He broke off, remembering he was talking to a little girl, and rephrased, "It's like the feeling has a mind of its own. I have no control over it, so that's why I'm so jumpy."

Her blue eyes grew round. "That's scary," she commented. "Is it cont . . ." She frowned again. "Con . . . Can other people get it?"

Alex couldn't help laughing a little at feeling her tense up with nervousness at "catching" whatever was bothering him. "No, don't worry," he reassured her. "It's only in my mind." Even as he explained, he felt cold terror at the words seeping through him like ice-cold water. Only in my mind. It can't be fake . . . No. I definitely didn't start it.

"Now you look really scared." Annah's voice jerked him back to reality. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing important," he replied firmly. "Don't be worrying about it, okay? Everything will . . . will be fine." He swallowed slowly, trying to push away the odd feeling that he was lying. "I'm, um . . . I think I'm gonna go out for a bit and try to clear my head. Thanks for coming in."

The little girl studied him for a second longer, then nodded with a shrug. "Okay. Hope you feel better." She hopped off his bed and headed for his door, pausing only to add with a bright smile, "Love you!" before she vanished down the hall.

Left alone for the second time, Alex gazed distantly at the floor for a tense moment. His own hesitant words rang in his head: Everything will be fine . . .

Will it? Really?

Still a little weak from the random breakdown he'd had earlier, he rose carefully, then made his way slowly to the front door and wandered out of the house. The air was cold and fresh, with a wintry breeze swirling around the small neighborhood. Surprisingly, it chilled him, when usually he enjoyed the feel of the cold wind. He pulled his coat a little tighter around his shoulders, shoved his hands in his pockets, and tilted his head back to regard the sky.

It was a hazy mix of blue and gray, with the sun setting ever so slowly in the distance. The peaceful silence of the outdoors helped soothe his frazzled mind a little, but not very noticeably. As he eventually ended up in the beginnings of the bigger part of the city, he headed straight for the nearest park and slumped tiredly on a vacant bench.

There weren't many other people there; after all, it was a cold and dreary day. Still, he quietly watched others go about their day, wondering what elaborate lives they lived as he did.

Everything will be fine, he tried to remind himself, but felt annoyingly uncertain. Why else would he feel so nervous, as nervous as he would've felt if he knew the end of the world would happen the next day? Was there such thing as a feeling of foreshadowing, even without the knowledge of what it was that would happen?

Foreshadowing. He almost laughed aloud. No, this is not the dark gem. My powers are only physical darkness. Sunray literally just reminded me of that.

He stared, blank yet intensely thoughtful, at the ground. And yet the gem can also get into people's heads, create fake memories, erase real memories, distract them . . . all to protect its holder's identity . . . It was something his father had vaguely included in his "instruction manual," which he'd seen work on his parents whenever he was afraid they were suspecting something about him.

You've got to be kidding me. This CAN'T be the gem. If it seriously warns me of other kinds of darkness coming, then why haven't I ever felt this before?!

Suddenly shaken up, Alex jumped up from the bench and stumbled out of the park, in the direction of home. His own thoughts were once again scaring him. His heart was beating so fast and loud he was sure everyone around him could hear it, and he almost ran into several people as he desperately staggered all the way back to his neighborhood.

I've never felt this before because whatever's coming is worse than anything we've faced before.

Everything . . . will not . . . be . . . fine . . .

• • •

By the time Monday arrived, he still hadn't slept at all, and felt so sick that he skipped out on breakfast. Thankfully, his mother allowed him to stay home from school, since by then all the stress had started to take its toll on his health. Trying to think straight was torture, but he was at least able to register what day it was. He wondered dully if he was going to survive that day's fight, or if he would fall asleep in the middle, get his gem taken away, and die. For some creepy reason, the thought struck him as funny.

About ten minutes before the dreaded hour began, however, Jakira called him. He picked up and answered with, "Hi."

". . . Alex?"

Immediately, he sensed something was wrong. His friend's voice sounded upset and terrified, which he'd never heard before. "What's wrong?" he inquired quickly, forgetting all about his own problems. "Are—are you crying?!"

"Alex . . ." her voice sobbed again, "my mother. My mother's gone."