Dawn came bright against the white snow, and Ash had still not returned. Dan found himself frequently looking out the window for her tall, bulky form, and the silence, devoid of her chatter, seemed almost oppressive. It's fine, Dan thought. She's taking her time because she wants to be careful. But Ash had used her powers more than he'd ever seen before, and what's more, despite the fact that her healing should've worked, she was injured. Which was yet another reason Dan hoped she would return. There were explanations that needed to happen, explanations that, unless Dan missed his guess, absolutely could not wait.

He was interrupted in his restlessness by a loud, booming knock on the door. Sparks, is it Permafrost, did he catch up to us? he thought. No. He knew exactly who knocked like that. Ash had finally returned. He ran down the stairs, and, out of breath, answered the door. Ash stood there, a makeshift bandage still covering the wound from the night before.

"Uh, hi," she said. "I guess I probably owe you an apology."

The edge of Calamity's darkness, so present the previous day, was nearly gone from her voice. It was all Dan could do not to reach out and hug her. "You came back," he said, though those words were not enough to match the relief he felt.

"I almost didn't," Ash said. "That was close. Far too close."

"Ash, I'm going to have to ask. What the sparks happened with your arm?"

"It got hit by an icicle." Dan shot a sharp look at Ash. "Yeah, I don't really have a good answer to that either. Sorry."

"Do you think there's something about Permafrost that could've activated your weakness?"

Ash shrugged. "I am, probably fortunately, not a mind reader."

"Ash, this is serious," Dan said.

"Maybe. There was definitely something related to my weakness. But it felt different from back in Butte." Ash stopped, looking around from side to side, then closed her eyes. "No. That was misleading. I know exactly what happened."

"So this has happened to you before." Dan tried and failed to keep an accusing tone out of his voice.

Ash opened her eyes, then let out a long sigh. "Yeah. A couple times. First of all, I'd like to say that I never left out anything relevant when I was telling you about my weakness."

"But you left out something," Dan said.

Ash winced. "Yep, this is going to take a lot of explanation. But yeah, I left out something, but it wasn't something you'd be capable of using. I told you I was weak to hopeful people. Hopeful people, unfortunately, includes me." She shook her head. "But it's a bit different. When it's someone else, they can hurt me, but all my other powers still work fine. Which has, unfortunately, come in handy more than once. But when it's me, all of my powers start to weaken, or if it's bad enough, go away entirely. It's why I never stayed in one place for too long, and why I liked faking my death, even when things were going well." She scoffed. "Especially if things were going well, if we're being honest. Too much stability, too much security, that weakens me. And then I set everything on fire before I can lose it all."

"Dan, you can tell Anna about this, but I'd really like it if this was kept between the three of us. It's not useful for killing me, but it is a pattern. And it's a pattern that, if my enemies figure out I'm alive, they can use."

"Okay," Dan said, suddenly feeling out of breath. "That is, admittedly, a lot. Not the promise. Just—"He waved his hand around. "Everything."

Ash shook her head. "You're telling me. I wish I was weak to, like, baseballs or something. It'd be a lot more predictable. And a lot less Saturday morning cartoon villain."

Dan tried to come up with a rebuttal to that, but couldn't seem to find one. "I suppose it could be worse. I could, like, literally feed off of people's fear."

Her eyes darkened. "Anna," she said. "What happened with her?"

"I don't know," Dan said. "She kept telling me she was fine, and that everything was under control afterwards. But—"

"But you think she's lying to make you feel better."

"That's one explanation."

"She could also be lying to make herself feel better," Ash said.

"And that is the other, more worrying, explanation." Dan shook his head. "She wants to be the strong one. The one that saves the day, that holds on despite everything. And I think that might lead her somewhere she can't come back from."

Ash winced, and stared out the window for an uncomfortably long time. "I know how that feels," she said. "And how dangerous that can be."

"I wasn't there when she first got her powers," Dan said. "But I was the first, and before you, the only one she told. She was so excited when it first happened. Said it was the thing we had been hoping for. That all our problems were solved." He absentmindedly ran his hand along a pale, branching scar along his arm.

Ash looked down. "Dan, please tell me she didn't—"

"It wasn't intentional. She got excited, and—" His voice cracked a little bit. "She didn't seem to notice who was in the way, when she was showing it off. And before I got hurt, I don't think she cared."

Ash winced. "I've been there. My 'there' involves a lot more knives and broken spines, but I've been there. You're lucky getting hurt was enough to pull her back."

"I know. Probably owe my life to that, if all the other Epics I've seen are any indication," Dan said. "Ash—Today was worse than that. It wasn't just not caring who got in the way in the heat of the moment. Her eyes—I saw malice there." And, though he knew Anna would be annoyed or worse if he told her, the way she had looked at her after the fight was even worse. "She keeps telling me everything is going to be fine, but it's getting worse. And not just over the past couple of days, either."

"And you're worrying how much time she has left," Ash said. "I think you're right. It's honestly a wonder she's managed to last as long as she has." She blinked. "Sorry. That was probably when I was supposed to reassure you that everything was going to be fine and we'd stop her from falling through the power of friendship and gigantic hugs. Or some nonsense like that."

Dan shook his head. "You haven't said anything that I haven't been thinking."

"Epics are doomed from the moment they get their powers," Ash said. "And before you say anything, what happened to me was just luck. And I think even I'm living on borrowed time."

Dan stood for a while, stunned. He had always had a hunch such a thing was true. After all, even after seven years, the closest there was to even a trace of a hero was standing not three feet away from him. And even then, Ash had committed atrocities Dan couldn't even imagine before he knew her. But to have that description applied to the woman who he'd coached through her hardest math classes, who had served as his sounding board when he came up with some great idea or another—

It seemed impossible. And yet, in his heart he knew there was no way it wasn't true. "How long do you think you have left?" Dan said. The question of how long Anna had wasn't one he was willing to entertain, even as limited as that time might be.

Ash shrugged. "Sparks if I know." Her face darkened. "I don't think it's long, though. Yesterday took a lot out of me, and unless I miss my guess, what we have coming is going to take even more."

"No, you probably don't miss your guess," Dan said, retrieving the notebook he had been scribbling in while waiting for Ash. "I've been trying to draw up plans all morning, for how we're going to salvage this."

"Right," Ash said. "The plan that just got blown into a bajillion tiny pieces by yesterday. That plan."

"Sounds about right. Anyway," Dan said, pointing to days on a hand-drawn calendar. "Most of what'll need to change is how we get in. Permafrost knows about Anna, so the method we talked about earlier isn't going to work. This is the next day Permafrost is due to get a food delivery to his palace, and I think it might be our chance to get in."

"That might be a bit far away," Ash said. "Permafrost knows about Anna, there's a good chance he'll want to strike first. And if that happens, we're going to lose any advantage we might have. Any way we might be able to lure him out of there?"

Dan shook his head. "Not now, I think. Not since he knows everything that you and Anna can do. And I don't think he'd agree to any kind of duel where he didn't have the advantage. And if there's a way of making him think he has the advantage when we have an even bigger one, I haven't been able to think about it." He frowned. "It's not like Polar, where we can avoid as much metal as we can. Literally this entire environment is one big advantage for Permafrost. I think surprising him in his own palace will be are best shot."

Ash squirmed in her seat. "I hope you're right about this. Now, let's figure out the details."

Anna paced back and forth, waiting for the right moment to talk to her aunt. This would go well, she was certain. She was revealing that she was the one who had been saving her life from the cold, the one willing to sacrifice everything to save those she loved. Those were good things, and Aunt Clara would understand once she explained. Dan was right that she needed to know, and honestly, she wondered why she'd ever been scared to tell her in the first place.

The door opened. Aunt Clara burst out, and embraced Anna in a giant hug. "Anna, where were you yesterday? I was worried sick."

"Sorry, Aunt Clara," she said. The nerve of her, a part of Anna, the part she tried to keep hidden at all costs, said. "I needed some time alone. Things have been pretty rough lately."

Clara surveyed her, and pointed to a cut on Anna's face, one she had gotten in the fight against Permafrost. "Anna, what happened? How did you get this?"

Anna put a hand up to the cut. "Oh yeah, that," she said. "It's fine. Could've been a lot worse, honestly." Anna frowned. No. She was going to have to tell her aunt. And it would have to be today. "Aunt Clara, I've been hiding something from you. Something big."

"I've seen the way you look at Ash. I'm not blind yet."

Anna blushed. "Wait, you—No!" she said. "It's not that. I have powers. I've had them for a few months now."

"Anna, why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"I was scared. Of what you would think, mainly. I didn't want you to think I was as much of a monster as the other Epics." Anna shook her head. "This is different. I do feel—I feel the reason why there aren't any good ones, but I've been able to handle it. I've been able to make it work for us, even."

"By make it work, I assume you mean to say you've been using them, haven't you?" Aunt Clara's tone was harsh and clipped.

I've been doing this to sparking save you, Anna thought. You, and with you, everyone else in this sparking city. Why wouldn't she understand that? Other Epics were selfish. She was doing this for the good of everyone around her. There had to be a difference between the two. "I have," she said. "Just a little, to make sure we have enough electricity to stay warm."

"Anna," Aunt Clara said, in the same tone she had used to scold her when she was little. "There is such thing as wood. And failing that, even crap can be burned. There are ways of keeping us warm without burning yourself, too."

"I know," Anna said. But this is something only I can do. Something that no one else this far out in the wastes has, she thought. "But wood especially has been getting harder to find in this winter. I was doing what I knew would help."

Aunt Clara's expression softened. "I know." She pulled Anna into a deep hug, and for the first time since the fight with Polar, Anna felt truly safe. Even, she hoped, in control.

"I'm sorry I worried you," Anna said. "Can we talk about something else now?"