Sitting on a fallen log on the edge of the forest overlooking the refugee camp, Cavalière Lavande peered into the shadows where the voice had come from. Low and raspy it had been, sending shivers down her spine. Her breathing hitched – she wasn't alone up here. Rugindo Leoa had mentioned that there were enemies in the area. The African Miraculous Team had faced down a number of threats over the past few months; nearby Luanda had been gripped by mass hysteria for the last week or more. Could this be the one responsible for it? Cavalière Lavande stretched out with her empathic perception, expanding her senses further into the woods. Anger, eagerness, excitement… she could feel someone close by, just outside of her sight, hiding in the shadows. But even as she concentrated on the voice, she sensed more. Other people were nearby. The woods were filled with people. She swallowed anxiously, pulling her empathic sense back into herself and looking around for an avenue of escape. But before she could go anywhere, the voice spoke again.

"If it is power that you need, then perhaps I can be of assistance."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, focusing her gaze on that specific spot. "What do you know?"

The voice chuckled. "I know that there is much power down there in the valley, free for the taking if one just has the will to act."

Cavalière Lavande rose to her feet and dropped one foot back, clutching her cane tightly in one hand and her horseshoe in the other. Eyeing the clearing behind her, the road, and the cliff edge beyond in her peripheral vision, she glared into the darkness. "Those are my friends you're talking about."

He scoffed. "Yes, I am sure that they are such good friends," the voice agreed sardonically. "Friends who would help you in your hour of need. After all, that is why you are here, crying alone in the wilderness, because they are so willing to help you."

Cavalière Lavande let out a breath, and her shoulders slumped. Her cane dropped down to point at the ground. "Well… it's complicated."

"It does not sound very complicated to me," the voice pointed out. "Your 'friends' have the power to do what needs to be done, do they not?"

She swallowed, some of the tension leaving her posture as her shoulders relaxed. "I mean, yes…"

"And yet they will not do it?"

"Well, no." She frowned. "They say it would be too dangerous, that there would be a cost to bringing him back, to stopping the Tarasque."

The voice scoffed. "There is a price for anything of value. It is not a question of whether there is a cost. But is the cost any greater than the price of doing nothing?"

Cavalière Lavande shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "I mean–"

"Would you do anything to bring back your love?" the voice asked, cutting her off. Cavalière Lavande furrowed her brows suspiciously. The voice laughed. "I can guess what you are after."

"I…" She looked down at the ground in front of her, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I miss him so much."

"He must have been important to you."

She nodded, sniffling. "I loved him… and then I watched him die."

"And if there is power in the world that can undo that? Power that can bring back one who has died? What are you willing to do?"

Her mouth set in a thin line. "What are you asking?"

"It is a simple question, girl," the voice replied. "If there were a way to bring him back, would you do anything to make it happen?"

She frowned. "Are you saying that you have a way to do it? You can stop the Tarasque? You can bring Max back to life?"

"Oh, I do not have that kind of power," he answered smoothly. "But that is not what you need at the moment. Never forget: power begets power. If those down there have the power you need, I have the power to acquire it."

Cavalière Lavande cocked her head. "Wait – you want to hurt my friends?"

"I think you need to reexamine your friendships, child." The voice scoffed. "If they were truly your friends, you would not be here, weeping in the woods. They would have done what was necessary. But if you will help me, I can help you to accomplish what these so-called 'heroes' cannot."

Cavalière Lavande stepped back away from the woods, swallowing. "You could do that?"

A wizened old man, midnight-black-skinned with rheumy eyes, stepped out of the shadows. Thin and bony, he looked as though a single blow could break him. He carried a crooked wooden staff with one hand, though he hardly relied on it to walk. The man straightened his back, examining her carefully. Something about him stirred a memory in Cavalière Lavande's mind, though she couldn't place from where. Looking more closely at his face, she couldn't recognize it at all. The man placed the end of his staff on the ground, clasping his hands around it. "There are many with power in these woods," he told her. "And with your assistance, I think there is much we can do together. We could already do much alone; with you, we will be unstoppable."

Cavalière Lavande's eyes widened and she stumbled back, away from the man. "Who–who are you?"

He grinned, his lips twisted up into a predatory snarl. "Simply one who has watched for some time, one with the means to help you, child." His fist clenched around his staff, his knuckles turning white. "I once had many on my side – a veritable power bloc to rival all others. That is how I know of the power which you possess, the great trinkets held by many of those in the camp down there. One such trinket fell into my possession, in fact. By means of it we could have ruled Somalia. If a single one could do such wonders, imagine what we could do with more of them on our side." He examined Cavalière Lavande closely. "Or even just with one of them."

Cavalière Lavande pursed her lips, eyeing him suspiciously. "What do you want with me?"

"Our power was broken, my most powerful weapon was broken." The man let out a low growl. "And unless I am mistaken, it was some of those down in the camp who were responsible for this – that shall be repaid in time. But I have rebuilt – more and powerful allies. Enough perhaps to challenge those who wronged me last time." Cavalière Lavande frowned, cocking her head to one side. He nodded. "Yes… like you, I also have suffered at the hands of these so-called heroes," he spat. "I also have endured loss. But no more. With your assistance, we may recover what was lost. We may rebuild – a new and better world."

Cavalière Lavande folded her arms, drawing her empathic range back to focus on the emotions she could sense emanating from the man in front of her. He grinned, meeting her gaze without flinching. His emotions felt… muddled, strange. She could sense excitement, desire, a profound confidence. But also something below the surface, something she couldn't quite identify. Anger, loathing for those who had wronged him. But as she concentrated on the man in front of her, she could feel more of the emotions coming from those others she had sensed lurking in the forest. One, two… at least a dozen other people were nearby, many of them feeling the same mix emotions. Anger, rage, confidence, fear, anticipation… she could feel all of that and more. And then there was another one whose emotions she couldn't entirely identify, though the mix felt strangely familiar. Quickly she pulled back her empathy, forcing the external emotions away. Steeling herself, she returned to her own emotions… but they were no better. Still the frustration, still the grief, still the pain – still the anger at Audrey Bourgeois' words. She had blamed the Heroes of Paris, had blamed Max, had blamed her father and the police! It wasn't their fault the Tarasque had won!

Was it?

Seeing her attention focused on him, the man in front of her scoffed. "You are a powerful one, aren't you?"

She folded her arms, her brows furrowing suspiciously, and glared at him. "Who are your… 'friends'? The ones hiding in the woods, I mean."

He smirked. "You did not think I would come so close to these 'heroes' alone, did you? If we are to claim the powers being held by your miraculous former allies, we will need allies of our own."

Cavalière Lavande's eyes darted between the man and the shadows behind him as four more figures appeared from behind the trees. One wore bits and pieces of a military uniform. Another was dressed in the robes of a Dark Acolyte and carried a wooden quarterstaff. A dark patch of the shadows formed into a humanoid shape. And the last figure to appear, towering over the rest, covered in dark green scales, was – "A Shunjar!"

The man raised an eyebrow. "So you know of Ujinamizi's kind. I suppose that is to be expected. If you help us, we can do great things together. We can claim the powers in the valley. We can stop this Tarasque's rampage." He paused, eyeing Cavalière Lavande carefully. "You can have your lost love back. Will you join us?"

She looked between them, swallowing hard. The Dark Acolyte's hand drifted into one of his sleeves; he studied Cavalière Lavande with his eyes narrowed. She could see a hint of tension in his arms and neck; looking into his emotions, she sensed mistrust and suspicion. The military man folded his arms, a dour expression on his face. The Shunjar, Ujinamizi, licked his lips – it was his emotions that she could not identify. Turning toward the Shadow, Cavalière Lavande stared in confusion as it swirled about in the light breeze. She swallowed hard. What was she doing here, talking with these people? This man and his allies were talking about hurting people – about hurting her friends! If they succeeded, what would happen to Adrien and Marinette, to Chloe, to all the others? How could she live with herself if she allied with these people and her friends got hurt?

Her stomach clenched. But how could she live with herself if she didn't do what she could to stop the Tarasque and bring back Max? After all, they had already agreed to work with bad people once to stop the Tarasque. The Lynchpin-ions had fought with them in Paris. The Dark Acolytes had helped them against the Tarasque. Perhaps this was no more than that: work with bad people to accomplish something good. And in the end, the Tarasque would be gone. The Tarasque would be gone, and Max would be back.

Finally Cavalière Lavande's shoulders slumped and she nodded. "Fine. But no one gets hurt, okay?"

He looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Of course."