For my whole life it's felt as if some darkened force has loomed over me. Whether it was the shadows at school that seemed to cling to the brick, watching me as I was dropped off by my nanny, or the shadow that would stand heavy beneath my door-frame as I would whisper a soft goodnight and all I would get in return was a disappointed grunt. Even as I aged I would see shadows fall across me as I walked, as I looked in the mirror, as I fell to exhaustion in my lab, it was a constant battle for light. A battle I always lost, over, and over, and over again.

But the deepest, darkest shadow of them all was one I brought upon myself. I invited him inside, I wanted him there. He was everything. Everything I aspired to be. He imposed himself into the world. He never allowed a single shadow to fall across him and yet still clawed at the promise of light, like it didn't deserve a man like him. And it didn't.

He always took what he wanted, he understood that the world owed him everything, and he took it all. Strong, handsome, skilled, swift, intimidating; I could go on forever.

As a child I discovered him one day as I cowered in the deepest part of the school library, hiding from the shadows that would hunt me down week after week. He was buried in a book about ancient China; a history of villainy, and there was nothing more than a small paragraph, a picture, and a name; Chase Young.

Back then I didn't completely understand my infatuation with this man, but I knew at least a few things after I had used my unusually high IQ to hunt down every scrap of information I could find about him.

Firstly, I wanted to be him. I wanted the power, the strength, and the drive to get whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it.

Secondly, I wanted to meet him. I wanted to see him, touch him, to know that this power was real and that it was within reach. I wanted true, living, immortal proof.

And lastly, I wanted to surpass him. I wanted the shadows to fear me. I wanted them to regret ever messing with Jack Spicer. I wanted to crush the world beneath my boots, something it seemed Chase had yet to do. I wanted everything that was ever owed to me, and some day soon, I would get it. And they would regret everything.

And he would regret it, too.

"Did you hear? Apparently it's shark week again," Ashley's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to her with a disgusted look before I buried my upper torso back into the bot I was working on.

"Ew Ash, I don't need to hear about your gross bodily functions," I retorted.

"I don't mean that! And I don't mean the one on TV either," she knew I would ask before I even had the chance to speak again. I turned back to give her a dull look, to which she only rolled her eyes.

"Chase!" she exclaimed.

It was sad that even the mention of his name made my heart race, though all I could do was squint in confusion as my eyes darted around the room, searching for something I was clearly missing.

"You know that thing he does every year?" she offered.

I only shook my head.

Ashley let out an exasperated noise, running her cat paws down her face, "Remember how he gets super pissy and then disappears for a week, and nobody knows what the hell is going on?"

Realization hit me like a ton of bricks, "Oh damn, seriously? That's this week? I was gonna debut my latest toy this week!"

She laughed at me, "Yeah, good luck with that, bot-boy."

I let out a moan like I'd been wounded, and in a sense, I suppose I had been. How could I have missed that? I knew everything about Chase; his birthday, his true name, his birth place, even his shoe size for Christ's sake, and yet I forget about this one, vital week of the year?

I let my head fall back, my fingers went limp and let my tools clatter to the floor. Fuck.

"Why don't you just wait until groucho is done his temper tantrum? It usually only lasts a week or two."

"But I've had this planned for so long!" at least a year and a half to be exact, "I was gonna impress him! He was gonna make me his apprentice, and then he would finally see how great I am! How evil I am!" all debatable claims, but I had the gears spinning around in my head for years now and I was on a roll.

"And then you'd get married and finally lose your virginity and have a baby and live happily ever after!" Ashley mocked.

I felt my face heat, "That may have been part of the plan," I grumbled.

She snorted, "Well I wouldn't try anything stupid if I were you, unless you want your head ripped off," she paused, studying my face before I had to turn away, "Literally."

I scratched at the tiny amount of stubble dusting my chin. I knew she was right. Around this time of year, Chase was absolutely volatile; even more so than he usually was, and any wrong move could lead to my untimely demise, there was no doubt in that. Though, even on his best days I got the short end of the stick. So in the end... did it really matter?

My curiosity began to nip away at my cowardice as a slow smirk edged its way to my lips, "I wouldn't even think of it, Ash."

So of course, I did something completely stupid.

I had slipped my way into Chase's citadel using the trusty Shroud of Shadows (I was still in shock that I actually won the thing from the Xiaolin losers) and began my search for any sign or clue that would lead me to an answer; why Chase was so ungodly angry around this time of year, every year.

Sure, I had tried to do a bit more research on the phenomenon in the past, like heat cycles in dragons, iguanas, and crocodiles, as well as a number of other reptiles, and came up with nothing exactly helpful except the knowledge that a lot of them had weird dicks (which did make me curious, not gonna lie).

I then looked up even more info on dragons specifically, and learned more about what Dojo and other dragons like him suffered from every 1500 years, but even then, it didn't line up with Chase. I had all of this newfound information on reptiles, but not enough about dragon-human hybrids or soulless demons. This sort of thing had always been poorly documented, and it seemed to me Chase could possibly be the only one. Something I've mulled over many times before.

Never though, had I ever tried to really search the field for knowledge; mainly because it was terrifying and Chase could snap my neck with his pinky if the desire arose. And his warriors didn't exactly make it any easier.

They kept picking up on my scent as I tried to weave my way through long corridors, dead ends, strange rooms, and ridiculous stairways, and every time I had to scamper away in a panic, trying to keep from shrieking as I heard my blood rushing to my ears and the heavy pads and vicious snarls of predators hot on my trail.

Despite it all, through some miracle, I was able to avoid them, and found a momentary safe-haven in the citadel's expansive library. I had to suppress flash-backs of my school days as my eyes flickered around the twisting corridors, lined with books, the shelves so tall they seemed to fade away into darkness as they towered around me.

The library. Of course! I thought to myself. There had to have been something in the library.

I scanned each shelf, attempting to get a good idea of what sort of organization it used, and thank god it was the Dewey Decimal System. I had feared that I would need to learn a new classification as quickly as I could or, god forbid, it wouldn't be organized at all. You could never be too sure with thousand-year-old libraries.

Firstly, I checked the basics; 'dragons,' 'Chase Young,' 'Chang Wei,' 'Lao Mang Lone,' and a few others, but I still couldn't find what I was looking for, so it was a good thing I had my IQ on my side. I couldn't imagine how painful it would be to flip through hundreds of books only to come out empty-handed when you were dull as dirt.

I scowled to myself after tossing another useless book aside. This was getting me nowhere, and I feared another warrior would pick up on me at any moment.

Just as I was about to give up hope, I stumbled upon a strange section of the library that seemed different than the rest of it. There was a small desk with a high-backed chair. The desk was littered with books and quills, and it was surrounded by bookshelves that seemed to be sectioned off into their own little area, out of the way as if it were meant to be hidden. My curiosity immediately peaked as I crept closer, eagerly plucking one of the books from the shelves and realizing none of them had titles, but rather, dates.

I opened it to a random portion and began to read:

april 26th, 1939, 10:33pm

Once again, another uneventful day. I have added another warrior to my army, though I have yet to decide if I should cease my collection in favour of greater plans.

While it seems the pitiful mortals have plunged themselves into war, I do not desire to involve myself in such trivial affairs. I am... tired.

Collecting is all I seem to do as of lately, and I fear I have dug myself into a rut. I want to relieve myself of this constant 'beating my head against the wall' but I do not know how.

This exhaustion tempts me like an incubus, and I would readily take him; to simply lay down and succumb.

I do not know what is wrong with me.

- CY

I couldn't help but let out a little gasp. This was... a diary. Chase's diary.

My eyes lit with newfound fire. The curiosity in me went wild at the thought of delving into the mind of my idol, the dragon-spawn himself, the definition of my sexuality; Chase Young.

I squealed a bit as I placed back the diary I held, searching now for a certain date in particular, December 11th, 6 years ago; the day we had first met.

december 11th, 20xx, 11:45pm

It seems the temple has recruited a band of new monks, and they have immediately intrigued me.

Raimundo Pedrosa; brash, hot-headed, the element of wind. He has slipped to the Heylin side before and I do not see him as much of a threat. Though he is stubborn, he is much too easily swayed.

Clay Bailey; quiet, large, timid, the element of earth. He seems to be the most pure of this group. The Xiaolin energy that radiates from him sickens me, and his accent grates upon my senses. He is no threat, however, much like his comrade.

Kimiko Tohomiko; another hot-headed monk, female, flashy and rude, the element of fire. My past element... my inner kinship allows a soft spot for her, but just barely. She is of no threat.

And finally, Omi; small, conceited, the element of water. Omi is something else entirely. I can feel his power, I can see it, sense it. He is the only one of these young monks that seems to pose a threat to me, though he does not yet see it.

I shall formulate a plan to recruit this young one to the Heylin way before it is too late. It would be a shame to simply kill him, even if I had the option. I will take him as my apprentice, and we will rule as one.

- CY

I blinked at the page for a second before I could feel a tight squeeze around my heart as I realized there was no mention of me. A guy like me usually made an impression, and I was hoping there would at least a sentence or two, but the fact the those losers occupied more of his mind than I did made jealousy burn at my core.

I flipped to the next page halfheartedly; there had to be a mention of me somewhere.

And there was... barely.

Anything written about me was concise;

Spicer had shown once again.

Spicer took the Wu, for once.

I didn't expect Spicer to show today, but he did last minute.

As if even writing about me was a burden.

It deflated me. I knew he hated me. I've always known, but I always held this glimmer of hope that maybe, maybe there was a chance that I could prove myself to him. He was grumpy and threatening around everyone, no matter who they were, but even in his diary I was... less. He even wrote about Wuya more than he did about me.

I sighed, placing yet another diary back on the shelf, rubbing my arms in an attempt to comfort myself. It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Before I had enough time to pity myself, I heard the soft padding of a fallen warrior. As the noise got closer, I began to panic. Quickly flinging the Shroud over my head, with the soft command "Shroud of Shadows!" I pinned myself into the corner of the alcove and held my breath.

Terrified tears welled in my eyes as I watched a cheetah slink around the hallway. It's lithe body stiffened as it came near, turning its head to the side and glancing around the room in suspicion.

It growled, before it sprinted away in the opposite direction and out of sight.

I hid until I could no longer hear any noise before letting out a relived sigh. Leaning heavily back further into the corner to help steady my shaky legs, I let out a yelp as the wall gave way and I found myself tumbling down a small flight of stairs.

I wailed all the way down, and when I hit the bottom, I laid on the ground, stunned, before gently checking myself for injuries. Thankfully everything seemed ok. I would definitely be bruised in the morning, but at least nothing was broken.

Once I sat up, and my eyes finally adjusted to the warm, dim light of the room, I let my mouth drop open in awe.

The place wasn't all that impressive. It was small, and it was a mess. Layers of dust caked every inch of the tables, floors, and chairs. Parchment was strewn everywhere and cobwebs clung to everything in view, but the most intriguing part of it all was the hundreds of scrolls that littered the room and lined the battered shelves.

I gingerly picked one up from the floor, choking as dust plumed into the air around me, and carefully unfurled it.

It was some form of old Chinese, but I was able to translate it with ease. After reading a few lines, I quickly realized they were simply more diary pages. Very, very, old diary pages.

I was hit by another wave of curiosity. I searched the room for a few minutes before I found the scroll I was looking for; number one. The first diary entry Chase had ever made.

I dusted off a spot on the floor where I could prop my back up against the wall before getting cozy with the page in my hands, and I began to read.