Authors note: Don't own Valdemar. Never will. Too poor to even dream of it . . . s'why I write fan fiction.
The power Neo had unleashed had not chosen its victims carefully. It had annihilated everything it could get its insatiable hands on.
Neo thought he was going to be sick. Indeed, he was sure his body was pale and trembling with shock and disgust, even if he himself wasn't occupying it at the moment.
The man wasn't dead . . . but he wasn't alive either. Neo had completely obliterated any shred of consciousness in the man's mind. It was now a bleeding mass of useless muscle. Wild thoughts of using his power once more, to Heal the man, to bring back the innocent bystander killed by the war of power, flickered weakly through his mind. But as he was gathering any and all energy he could find, that hadn't already been used up by the attack; Neo knew it was no use. Even if he had the strength, he wouldn't have been able to Heal any of the damage.
The mind was cut to ribbons, and if the body still worked, it worked without its partner. The barest traces of instinct remained, allowing the lungs and heart to continue their work, but they would not last long. Things meant for conscious control, things like eating, walking, living, could never be resurrected. Not after what Neo had done.
He would have brought a hand to cover his mouth, if he had had either. Instead, he could only "stand and watch" as the farmer's brain completely shut down, leaving the man an empty shell, no better then a war-torn carcass.
See, an unfamiliar voice hissed in his "ear", see what you have done, Neoka Marron? You have killed him. You have killed a man.
Neo shook with disbelief.
No . . . he whispered softly, not sure if the voice heard him or not, no I . . . I didn't mean to . . .
It matters not wither you meant to, boy, it continued ruthlessly, only that you did it.
The remorseless hissing voice paused for a moment, as if in thought, and the silence burned Neo's mind as much as the following words would.
And that you will again.
The horror and panic those words brought caused Neo to loose his footing. He fell out of his victim's mind, out of Hardorn, and back into his own body.
Sharp ebony eyes snapped open, followed shortly by a pain-filled gasp as he become aware of his surroundings. With a trembling hand, he reached up to run his hand over his face, and then drew it away in surprise when he felt wetness.
Fingers pulled back, drenched with tears and sweat, and Neo realized he was still crying as he studied them. The condemning hiss filled his mind once more, but it was now only his own memory echoing callously, and not the voice itself.
You did it.
You did it.
You did it.
His trembles gave way to shakes, and then to something quite close to convulsions. He buried his head in his hands, seeking some form of relief, something to make him forget the truth behind the wicked words. But no relief came, nothing eased away the dread and revulsion. There was only pain, and memory, and a slow, distant hissing chuckle.
***
Menith had been waiting very impatiently for Neoka to return. He had prayed the boy wouldn't find anything. That the sickness couldn't be traced to anything over the borders. That his prodigy would not run into a dark mage, working evil mind magic in Hardorn.
He prayed that the entirety of the Heralds were wrong about Neoka. That the boy could control his power, and not have to be Shielded day and night for the rest of his life. That Neoka would grow to accept and control his Gift, and that no harm would ever come of it.
But most of all, he prayed that Neoka would return swiftly.
He wasn't quite prepared when the last of his prayers were answered.
The presence of Neoka shot past both Heralds, like an arrow loosed from the most powerful of bows. They could only stand and blink stupidly in his wake, wondering at the speed with which the spirit had taken flight.
Jhaspar was the first to recover, gathering his wits and flying after the boy, back to Haven. Menith followed shortly.
They settled into their own bodies in little time, blinking open their eyes and focusing on the boy sitting across from them.
Menith could barely hold back the shocked gasp in his throat.
Neoka, the sharp-eyed, sharp-witted boy that didn't seem to let much get to him, was on his knees, practically screaming at the sky. His eyes were shut tight, but tears flowed from them freely, and-Menith noted with another stab of shock-so did his emotions.
The Shields previously erected around Neoka had not held past the borders, and Menith swore at his own stupidity as he struggled to remedy the fact.
Before he could finish though, Neoka's feelings flooded over him, and he was completely overcome with sorrow, regret, and-most of all-self loathing.
He swam in them helplessly, seeing no way out, and as stuck in them as the boy himself.
He could find no center for the pain, only endless amounts of guilt and revulsion, and Menith had one, clear second to wonder what on Velgarth happened to the poor boy, before becoming swallowed up once again.
A blue, familiar light, wrapped around him, Shielded him, and tossed him out of Neoka's head. Hyatee.
The Companion stood behind him, heaving with exertion from the run over to his Chosen, and the effort it took to Find and Seize him.
Menith blinked the remaining tendrils of the feelings away, momentarily taking in Jhaspar in a similar state, with a more calm looking Carogan standing over him. The Companion beside the still weeping Neoka was not like both of the others. His head was bent, pressed against the ground, and his sides heaved with gasps as an unnervingly human-like moan ripped through him. He was still touching the boy, and couldn't seem to find the ability to pull away.
Menith desperately threw and locked Shields around Neoka, and after a wordless Mindtouch with Jhaspar, the Own did the same.
The Companion-Amaro, he remembered-slowly lifted his head and gazed at them with blue eyes gone nearly black in anguish.
He was panting as if he had run leagues, but soon found the strength to rise to his hooves, and unsteadily stay there. No longer the first in line to be milled by Neoka's emotions, the Companion warily watched as the boy sobbed and shuddered unrelentingly. To Menith's surprise, Amaro very gently, and very slowly, nosed the boy's shoulder.
Hyatee took a step forward.
:He is still dangerous at the moment, Amaro. Wait until he passes out, for he has not much strength left in him.: Menith could only nod softly in agreement, and the Companion pulled his nose away. He did not turn tail and run, as Menith half suspected him to, but stayed beside Neoka's shoulder, until the boy gave one last final shudder, and slumped to the ground.
Menith and Jhaspar quickly gathered him up and hurried him to the Healers Wing, leaving the three Companions behind.
:What happened, Amaro? You were closest to him, did you Feel anything from him before he gave way to sobs?: Carogan asked the still shaking Companion. Amaro hesitated, then shook his head slowly, dropping his sapphire eyes to the ground.
:If you do not wish to stay play-Companion to the boy . . . we would understand.: Carogan persisted. Amaro raised his head a bit at that, and the other Companions feared he would take the escape offered.
:No . . . no I will still be here when he returns.: Amaro said unexpectedly, before going down to his knees with a soft grunt, and sinking there to rest.
Hyatee and Carogan nodded once, before trotting off to other business.
Amaro raised his silver head towards the Healer's Wing, tucking his legs beneath him and sighing.
You are not a killer Neoka . . .
***
The group of Herald Trainees gathered together conspiratorially, whispering under their breath in a seriousness that would almost have been comic, if their expressions warranted any to laugh. Some looked nervously over the shoulders down the empty corridor while others had dangerously furrowed eyebrows.
One among them remained devoid of any such somber actions. His dusty brown hair was messy from where he had run his hand through it in agitation, and he looked at his fellow Trainees with disapproving blue eyes.
"I don't know how you all got like this," he said, annoyance clear in his voice, "but I want you to stop it. You're taking this entire 'Gray against Blue' stuff way too seriously. It's beginning to get childish." The others looked at him incredulously.
"Greg!" cried one in a low tone, "You of all of us should be furious at those stuck-up Aristo's! Just last week you had a run-in with one of their ring leaders!"
Greg sighed, exasperated by his year mates.
"That was last week! And he's not a ring leader. Honestly, why are you all acting like this?! You're going to end up no better then the Blues you despise so much!" that sent most of them into silence, but the quick-tempered ones did not let his insult slide.
"If you're not going to help us, you're in the way." Said one, standing before him with his arms crossed severely. Greg tried to calm his own raising temper, but it would not hold.
"Idiots! You're getting into water too deep for you to swim in! Just leave the damn Blues alone! Or someone's going to get hurt!" he turned on his heel before any could answer, storming down the hall like a thunder cloud.
Sure, he didn't like the Blues any more then the next Gray, but these guys were taking it too far! They were actually plotting to get half the Blues kicked out of the Collegium . . . and while some deserved far worse, a few didn't. Like the boy he had fought a few days ago.
Greg turned a corner and slowed in his furious gait. Leaning against the wall, eyes on the floor, he fumed about the mule-like stubbornness of both groups.
Something's wrong . . . they aren't usually like this . . . something's setting their tempers off . . . he decided, crossing his arms and sighing.
His own slight Gift of Empathy was under tight Shield, and he didn't think it would be of much use in this case . . . but he had to try.
Warily, ready to snap his barriers up at the least of warnings, he lowered his Shields, and Looked around the Collegium.
He didn't have to Look far.
Swirling through the air like a heavy mist was the strongest Projection he had ever Felt. Almost loosing himself in the deep human emotions, he reassembled his walls and clutched at his shirt. Sweat dripped from his forehead, but he ignored it. The mist was strong, and he was surprised it hadn't gotten through his own Shields. It churned with dark emotions, many too deep for Greg to comprehend, but most simple enough to grasp. Hate was the underlying emotion, a loathing he hadn't felt before, and hoped never to again. It fueled all the rest; anger, sadness, and the most frustrating of helplessness's. The hate turned on anything it could touch, even the barrier of the feelings.
Greg pushed his head into his hands and breathed deeply, trying desperately to find his center and ground so he could think straight.
:?: the wordless questioning feeling came from a foreign but familiar mind.
:Surra!: he called in relief, :Oh, thank the gods . . . look!: he "tossed" his discovery to his Companion, and Felt her surprise.
:Greg . . .: she couldn't seem to find any words, so he let her work out her own thoughts as he returned to centering himself.
:Love,: he said, straightening himself and steeling his backbone once he was successfully and fully Shielded once more, :we cant let this go on. I have to tell one of the Heralds . . . Herald Kara, maybe? She is in charge of Trainees. You think this would fall into her category?:
:I don't know . . . where is it coming from?: she knew that he had no idea, but it was a question that had to be answered.
Greg started down the hall once more, quickly recalling where Kara's office was located. He steered himself down a few more corridors, before reaching her door.
He knocked softly, and a little nervously. For all the peacefulness Kara radiated every time he had seen and spoken to her before, something about the Herald made him edgy. She always seemed to know everything about the Trainee's before they even come to the Collegium. Perhaps she had an overly active Gift of Foresight? Greg didn't know anymore about the Herald then his fellow Trainees did, and it could very well be a possibility that her Gift had something to do with the way she set him off.
"Come in." came the expectedly calm voice from inside the room. He entered and closed the door behind him, seeing Herald Kara sitting calmly under a flickering candle at her desk, holding a small leather bound book in her right hand.
"I . . . I didn't mean to interrupt you, Herald . . . but I've just found something . . ." he trailed off, close to hating himself over his un-centered nervousness.
"Oh? And what would that be, Trainee Greg?" she asked, somehow keeping her voice from being condescending and irritatingly sweet at the same time. He swallowed a little difficultly, and walked further into the room.
"As I'm sure you know, Herald, my Gift is Empathy . . . and though it is weak, I have Shields up to protect it day and night . . ." he began, "I dropped these Shields a little while ago, and found some very strong Projecting throughout the entire Collegium. It's affecting how the Grays and Blue think, and they're close to declaring war on each other . . ."
She didn't look alarmed or even surprised at the news, only nodded and fixed him with an unwavering blue gaze.
"Yes. A newly Chosen has had his Gift awakened. We are trying to keep things under control, but his Gift is very powerful. It will be a while yet before his own Shields can be erected and all this cleared up. I appreciate you telling me the situation though, Trainee. I will look into this 'war,' as you so aptly put it." She gave him the smallest of smiles, and Greg knew that he had been dismissed. He lowered his head slightly, both as an informal salute and a sign of dejection. He left Kara's office as quickly as he dared, without seeming to hurry.
Surra, waiting impatiently in the back of his head, jumped at the chance to question him.
:What did she say?: she asked. Greg sighed, wishing he wouldn't have to repeat it, but knowing his and Surra's bond was not strong enough for her to overhear his conversations when he wasn't directly linked with her.
:A newly Chosen is causing all of this, with a powerful Gift that isn't fully Shielded yet. Nothing more.: he could feel her shock, and sent a wordless thought of curiosity as to why she should be surprised.
:No Companions have left the Field on Search, and none I talk with have been feeling any kind of Call. I think I would be informed if a Companion Chose recently . . .: Greg smothered his grin at her worried tone.
:'Be informed' indeed. You're just mad that something has slipped past the Gossip Queen.: he felt her indignation, but with it came a bit of amusement.
:There is that.: she admitted, her voice flavored with a grin.
:Would you mind asking around then, love? For some reason I'm curious as all hells about this new Trainee.: he ran his hand through his hair dejectedly, wondering why he was feeling any kind of interest when the case was obviously a simple one.
:I was going to 'ask around' anyway. My informants shouldn't be taking vacations.: and he felt her turn away from him, towards other things, as he himself should be doing. He had History in a couple of minutes, and he was as far away from where the class was being held as it was possible to be in the Collegium.
Sprinting down the halls, Greg barely had enough time to sidestep two Heralds coming in from Companion's Field, carrying something between them, before increasing his speed and dashing towards his class. Instructor Jaist was never merciful upon Trainees late to his class. Greg hated to think what would happen to him if he stopped to say sorry to the Heralds, so he kept running, throwing an apology over his shoulder as he raced onwards.
***
Menith nearly swore in surprise when a Trainee came hurtling down the halls, straight for them. He and Jhaspar barely kept Neoka from falling out of their hold as the Gray shouted an apology over his shoulder and kept running. He glared after the boy, only coming back to himself when the soft sounds of Jhaspar's laughter echoed through his ears.
"And what, may I ask, is so funny?" he growled, shifting his hold on the unconscious Blue between them and resuming their walk towards the Healers Collegium. Jhaspar sent him a dry look through his chuckles.
"It has been a long time since you yourself were a Trainee, has it not Menith?" he asked, shifting his own hands to equally balance Neoka's weight. The boy was thin, and didn't weigh much, but he was tall, and had too many angles to him for one person to carry him comfortably.
"It has." Menith answered warily, returning the dry glance.
"The boy was late for class, and by the hastiness of his steps, I would say it was History, with Instructor Jaist." The chuckles started again. Menith winced inwardly in sympathy. Herald Jaist held no qualms about disciplining his students if they stepped into his classroom late. And his "disciplining" took longer to heal then the Weapons Master's did, as it was a rather harsh beating upon one's pride, rather then one's body. Jaist might be weak in arms, but his tongue was as sharp as a whip, and never held back when punishing . . . or in anything else, come to think of it.
Menith grunted a wordless answer to the King's Own, and let silence fall between them. As they walked, Menith delved into the events moments past.
:Hyatee.: he called after a brief minute of thinking.
:Here.: came the expected reply.
:You stayed with the Companion posing as partner to Neoka after we left . . .:
:Yes,: Hyatee responded, and then caught the thought that Menith was about to form into question, :He knows nothing about what the boy saw, nor why he acted as he did when he returned to his body.:
:Damn . . . guess we'll have to wait for Neoka to wake up to answer our questions.: he sighed aloud.
:I think we will have to wait longer then that, Chosen . . .: and Hyatee was gone, turning onto other matters before Menith could ask what he meant.
"Dear gods!" Healer Y'von's shrill voice snapped him out of his confusion as they entered Healers Collegium. She hurried up to them, looking at the rather pitiful sight of Neoka suspended between them, angry green fire lighting her eyes, "What happened?!"
"We brought him down to Companion's Field, as you wanted Healer Y'von." Jhaspar said calmly, before Menith could utter a syllable, "He passed out after a few Gift-exercises."
The fire in her eyes lessoned in intensity, but the blaze was still there.
"I made up his own room, over here." She said immediately, leading them towards a door, "A Guard will be posted outside it, during the night, so he won't be disturbed. I hope those exercises were worth an extra day of Healing, Heralds." She bristled slightly, opening the door and waving them in.
It was a typical Healer's room, tiled walls and a single cot in the middle, with bleached sheets. She rushed them toward it, gathering a few things from shelves as she moved about the room.
Menith and Jhaspar laid Neoka down on the bed, positioning him so he wasn't in an uncomfortable pose.
Y'von didn't let them stay long. She bustled them out of the room like a mother hen, and returned to Neoka's side after she closed the door behind them.
Menith sent a sour look at the door, but knew the workings of Healers, and left the look at that.
"I'd like to be informed when he awakens." Jhaspar said unexpectedly, and Menith was surprised to find the King's Own looking at him.
"After what happened today?" Menith scuffed, "You'll be lucky if you ever catch sight of the boy again! Something happened over that border, King's Own! Something that must have hurt him terribly. He isn't one to cry lightly, I know this, and I haven't known the boy long. If you hadn't been so damn set on finding out what was causing some sickness, none of this would have happened!"
Jhaspar stood as still as a statue throughout Menith's tirade, watching him with calm, calculating eyes. When the angry speech wound down, he began his own.
"Herald Menith," he started, his voice clipped and frosty, "you have little respect for a person's situation, and none for a person themselves! You refuse to look beyond your side of the problem, and this makes you bias on everything that involves you-"
Menith's face had gone red in anger; "I don't need a list of my damn shortcomings-" he interrupted.
"You need to open you eyes man!" Jhaspar broke in, eyes flashing dangerously, "I did what needed to be done! Neoka has the power to find out what we need to know, and I will use that power! You don't take this sickness seriously, but everyone else does! It is Mage made, and needs to be dealt with!"
Menith glared resentfully at Jhaspar, but knew the Herald had a point. Perhaps he wasn't taking this sickness as seriously as he should. Perhaps Jhaspar wasn't entirely to blame for whatever happened to Neoka. And perhaps he would do well to give a little more consideration and respect for people and their problems . . . but he'd be damned if he'd admit it now, and to this pretentious excuse of a Herald!
"Neoka shouldn't be drawn into this! He's a boy, and a Blue at that! He isn't Chosen, doesn't have the responsibility towards Valdemar that we have, and didn't ask for any of this-"
This time he was cut off by a soft cough, not from Jhaspar.
"Excuse me," it was a Healer Trainee, a mouse of a girl, with soft brown hair and a round, quiet looking face, "but could you perhaps take this quarrel outside? You are disturbing patients."
Both Heralds blinked in surprise, then looked around to find that they had indeed disturbed patients.
And everyone else in the House of Healing.
People peeked out from behind doors, and Healers tapped angry foots against the floor, glaring at the two Heralds.
The only door not opened was the one they had just left, holding Healer Y'von and Neoka.
"Please excuse us," Jhaspar said, unperturbed, "Herald Menith; we will continue this discussion later." The sharp glance gave away the easily translated thought of how soon "later" would be.
Menith nodded frigidly, watching the King's Own turn firmly on his heel and stride through the hall. The Healers and patients soon disappeared behind doors, sending Menith brief disapproving glances when they passed, as he took a seat on the bench closest to Neoka's room.
He sighed and rubbed his temples. He never could keep a tight leash on his tongue, and he would always regret what he said in anger after his words' victim left.
But Jhaspar is as closed-minded as me! He fumed silently, slouching against the back of the bench and frowning darkly, He cares for his country so blindly that he sees its people as a complete whole, as if everyone is the same, and feels the same about everything . . .
He sent his gaze to the ceiling and continued fuming.
People aren't like that. Valdemar may be in everyone's heart, but things that concern it, things that happen inside of it . . . everyone doesn't agree on all those issues, and Jhaspar is an idiot if he doesn't see that! I may have little respect for most people, but at least I know that truth! He has to see that people are individuals, that they have concerns more important to them then things that happen in the Kingdom. He has to see that Neoka has other worries . . . the boy's been thrown into waters too deep for him. Neoka doesn't see how his Gift can be a good thing and Jhaspar doesn't understand why he feels that way.
He sighed again and lolled his head back, grunting when a few kinks in his neck protested.
And it all falls to me to make things work out . . . he pressed a palm to his face, almost groaning in antipathy at his position, I should never have scrambled onto Hyatee's back that day . . . I should have stayed in that rotting field and become a fat old farmer with no concerns other then my belly.
But he knew that, even if he could go back in time to the day Hyatee ambled by his little village on the Border, he wouldn't have changed a thing. He would have done everything exactly the same, right down to the mistake of stopping in the village to show his family his sparkling new Companion. He almost laughed at the memory of half the village storming after Hyatee as they rode off for taking one of their firstborn sons.
No, he wouldn't change a thing . . . but that didn't stop him from resenting his current situation.
***
Greg stumbled into class almost a full half-candlemark late. Every head turned as he looked guiltily at the floor and strode forward, toward his seat.
"Trainee D'mar," he winced at the voice of Instructor Jaist, calling him forward by his surname. He kept his eyes on the ground and prepared himself for one of Jaist's punishments, "I take it you have a reasonable excuse for your tardiness?"
Greg glanced up into the face of the instructor. Merciless gray eyes made him quickly avert his gaze. Herald Jaist was as cold looking as his reputation, gray eyes and gray hair, through neither gave the feeling of old age. His narrow face suited his attitude perfectly, though a smile made everything change . . . the few times anyone had seen him smile, that is.
"I . . . no, I don't, sir." Greg answered, hunching his shoulders forward defensively. A sigh sounded from above him.
"Take a seat, Trainee." Came the unexpected exasperated answer. Was he going to get away with no punishment?
Not one to tempt fate, Greg quickly returned to his seat.
However, just because Jaist was in a rare good mood, didn't mean his neighbors were.
And they were almost all Blues.
The one sitting closest to him snorted in disgust as Greg slipped into his chair.
"The things Grays get away with these days." He jeered, rolling his eyes at the others. Several of the girls giggled into their hands, and a few boys smirked nastily. Greg glowered at the boy who had made the comment, but didn't say anything.
One of the Blue girls, a dainty, blond, blue-eyed pretty, didn't seem to have heard him. Her gaze was not focused on anything in the classroom, and her face was set in a troubled frown.
The Unaffiliated group promptly forgot about Greg for the moment.
"What's wrong, Leslly?" one of the other girls asked, taking her friend's hand in concern. Another girl began to giggle again.
"She's pining over her lost love." She said, when the others turned questioning gazes towards her. The boy who had insulted Greg snorted and raised his nose into the air pompously.
"Neoka? Huh," he crossed his arms, and it finished the perfect image of a stuck-up Noble, "he probably got booted out of this place, for beating on too many Grays." He fixed malicious chestnut eyes upon Greg, who pretended to ignore them, "If I recall correctly, this one was his last opponent."
Greg blinked. The Blue who hadn't acted like a Blue? The one his sister had been doting over?
"Oh, who cared about a commoner like him?" the girl who was clutching the love-sick Blue's hand sniffed at Greg, "Leslly's heartbroken!"
Most of the boys rolled their eyes, but the one called Leslly spoke up before any more spiteful comments could escape.
"I'm not heartbroken." She said, staring at the girl holding her hand as if she were mad, "It was a simple infatuation, just like every other girl had." She pulled her hand out of the girl's grasp. The group quickly closed in around her and began the questioning. Greg could still hear every word, and it was beginning to get interesting.
"Honestly," Leslly continued, "Neoka was just . . . interesting."
"He seemed more strange then interesting to me," one of the boys said, "like he knew what you were thinking, even if you didn't say anything . . . and sometimes I swear I could feel what he was thinking."
"That's why he was interesting," Leslly scolded him, "almost every girl I know loved that mysterious air he had about him."
"I never liked him," another girl piped up defensively. Leslly sighed.
"You either loved him, or hated him. There was no middle way with Neoka." She sounded very grown up, for all of her sixteen years. Greg tilted his head a little to catch their words as they drew themselves into whispers.
"Why did he leave though? No one's seen him for almost two weeks!" asked a curious feminine voice.
"Who cares?" answered a curt male one, "He was always strange, and he only kept getting stranger. You think he had one of those Gifts, like the Heralds do?"
Greg leaned further towards them.
"Could be," someone whispered back, "that would make sense, considering all those times he answered questions no one asked."
Out of the corner of his eye, Greg saw a few of them shudder.
"I knew he wasn't normal!" the girl who said it shook her head as she spoke, "Coming from that family though, how could he be?"
"So," one boy turned to Leslly, "you don't like him anymore because he got too strange?"
Leslly nodded, then seemed to think about it.
"That," she said after a moment of silence, "and, beyond the fight with that Gray over there, he only fought other Blues."
Greg blinked at this new information.
Only fought with other Blues? Answered questions never asked? Others knew what he was thinking?
These were all unmistakable and possibly dangerous signs of a developing Gift . . . was Neoka causing the disturbance between the students? With a newly awakened Gift?
Greg scowled at himself. He was being too hasty, grasping for answers that couldn't possibly be correct . . .
But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something behind the Blue's gossip . . . something he should follow up on.
Authors note: The next chapter is a LOT more interesting. We get another peek over the Border, and an old acquaintance has a chat with Neo. But I hope this one wasn't boring. I would have gone on, to get some action scenes in, but it would have been at least another ten pages before we got to anything interesting, and taken twice as long to write. I left you with a rather nasty cliffhanger last time, so I decided to get this up as soon as I finished writing it. I really hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a comment via review!