The map was faded and difficult to read, but there was no mistaking what it meant. He grabbed it and, amidst a chorus of ear-piercing alarms, raced from the building.

He found China and America in the meeting place he'd organised just north of the Canadian border, glaring at each other. Canada. A nation of looters and fear, now. No government. No peace. Almost everyone was hurrying over the border into the US.

But not this small group, huddled in a dark alley.

America and Korea stood on one side; China and Egypt stood on the other. The man with the map stood between them.

"I'm glad you both saw that there was no point in taking on Europa alone," he said, addressing China and America.

Neither of them replied. China winced in pain and one hand flew to his side. It hadn't even been a day since Egypt had bandaged his wound and helped him back to his own country. He probably needed more than just a bandage and some painkillers, but this was war. That was what the stranger had said, anyway – the stranger who had been waiting for them inside China's own home. Like it was a proper excuse. This is war.

"I can help you," he unfurled the map. "I found this."

China frowned at it. "A… painting of a woman?

"Right," the man nodded, "and also a map of Europa's continent. It's called the Europa Regina. I believe it contains the key to beating him."

"What? That he enjoys cross-dressing?" America asked.

The man holding the map ignored him. "You could stab or shoot him; you could bomb or invade-"

"Heh, invade!"

"-him as much as you like," the man glared at America, "but none of it would work. I believe that you need a more concentrated attack." He stabbed the map. "One aimed right at Europa's heart."

China stared at the point of the map marking out Europa's heart. "How would that affect the countries that make him up?"

"I don't know," the man growled, "but you can't just let a continent walk around trying to kill you. I know what he's like. You need to dispose of him – the sooner the better. You see where the heart of him is?"

"Bohemia," China read.

The man nodded. "The Kingdom of Bohemia. Today, to attack it would mean attacking the Czech Republic, Germany, Poland, Slovakia, Hungary and Austria. If you concentrate attacks on these countries and then follow them up with a physical attack to Europa, I think that will end him."

"And you have what proof, exactly?" America asked. "Dude, you won't even let us see your face! You won't even tell us your name!"

The man looked away, hesitated. "Ceadda Douglas," he said. "Now get to work; plan your attacks."

America nodded, and he and his allies left. China, sweat plastering his forehead, also nodded, but his hands were clutching his side where the knife wound throbbed with every breath. Egypt helped him limp away.

Ceadda Douglas sighed and leant against a grimy wall. This had to work. If not… who knew what would happen. Europa was insane – that was obvious – and, to be honest, who could blame him? The violence and death he must have seen…. Practically none of the countries on Europa Regina still existed; either dead or lost or disappeared. Europa would have felt those deaths, but would also have the memories of causing them. If that didn't harm your sanity, Ceadda wasn't sure what would.

America rushed onto the roof of the cinema and scanned his surroundings. There. Sealand was sprawled over an air con vent. America hurried over.

"Yo," he said. "You okay?"

Sealand's eyes fluttered open, but he didn't speak. His face was screwed up with pain.

America carefully slid his arms under Sealand's body and picked him up. The small country's head fell back. America sat down on the edge of the roof so that he could properly support him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to call for help, but Sealand's hand closed over it.

"No," he whispered.

They stared at each other. "I'm the hero," America quietly protested.

Sealand just sighed raggedly and stared at the grey clouds above them. His breaths were shallow now, but took all his effort.

America followed his gaze to a slight break in the clouds through which white light streamed and flowed like silk.

"I'm scared," Sealand whispered. He closed his eyes to try and stop the tears welling up – he was a country, he shouldn't be crying – but they ran down his face in thick rivers.

America wiped away the dark tracks left by them. "Don't be," he said.

But it was too late. Sealand would never hear those words.

America carefully laid the small country down on the roof and stood up. Fists clenched, he stared at the patch of sky that had captured Sealand's attention. The hole of light had closed up leaving a barrier of cloud.

Then he turned swiftly on one heel and marched back down the stairs. After all, there was still a war on, even if the enemy had changed.

Europa would pay for this.

This hotel room was smaller and darker than the one in Egypt. The lack of light did not help Europa stay awake. He was huddled in one corner, with his knees tucked against his chest. It was so hard not to drift into sleep now that he didn't know what to do. In fact, the nightmares were just beginning to flicker at the edge of his vision when a freezing wind clawed across him.

Suddenly wide-awake, Europa shot to his feet. The door and window were both closed. "Is anyone there?" he asked.

Silence.

Idiot, Europa shook his head ruefully and switched on the TV. Fox were talking about the plane crash in Egypt and how it was so totally aliens that abducted the passengers and crew before they died.

CNN were discussing the current state of the war. Specifically the panel on this particular politics show all seemed to agree that calling this war WW3 was a misnomer.

"Europe's neutral and we aren't even planning any attacks on China anymore," a senator Europa didn't recognise shrugged. "The media is just hyping up the whole thing. I imagine the president will draw up a treaty with China soon and our country will be at peace again."

Europa thumbed the power button and sank onto the bed. The war was nearly over… He should've been happy, but the fact was simply that he wasn't. The only reason the European countries had unified had been to bring peace, but now that it was near Europa knew that it was not the right thing.

What was a world if it wasn't at war? If people weren't dying and blood wasn't flowing? So many technologies had come from war; so many artists had been inspired by it, the world needed to be fighting.

Peace? Yeah, that might be nice, but it just isn't practical. Humans attack each other; it's in their nature. Countries are constantly being formed and invaded and destroyed and captured.

Europa only had to look into his own memories to see that. So why was he trying to stop this war? He was his own person, wasn't he – he didn't have to do what the countries that made him up wanted to.

But what did he want to do?

Europa stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the sky was dark, but clear. Stars glittered down on him like knives. "Who am I?" he asked the cold glass panes.

Of course they didn't answer, but the silence pressed against him until he wanted to scream. Europa. Europa. Without war what was he? A collection of countries that would soon separate back into their former selves. "I don't want to go," he whimpered. "I'm scared."

Shivering as if he was in Iceland, not Florida, Europa crawled into bed and fought the dragons guarding the doors to sleep.

He lay awake all night.