There was a knock at the door. Luckily Craig had already ended the transmission with Clyde. The tea room, on the other hand, had become a disorganized mess.

The door knocked again. Knowing that people in this castle didn't take him ignoring a knock for an answer, he quickly shoved the device back into his pocket and ran to the door.

"Craig," Kyle said, looking surprised that he answered the door.

"No one else but," Craig shrugged.

Kyle's expression turned into a look of disapproval. "I've been looking for you," he said as he entered the dark room, "You were supposed to come back after lunch, but I couldn't find you. I even sent out some soldiers to look for you."

"I know," Craig said as he collapsed onto the sofa, "I told one of them I'd be back in the castle within an hour."

"I-"

"Which was true," he laid down, "I didn't say anything about meeting you in an hour."

"Fine," Kyle huffed, "Why do you keep it so dark in here?"

"I just do," he shrugged, clapping his hands together, "Plus, isn't it a cloudy day anyway? There's no light to shine."

"I guess," he eyed the closed curtains. He closed his eyes in annoyed contemplation for a moment before returning to the exit.

"Leaving already?" Craig asked, "Or are you expecting me to follow you?"

"The meeting you were supposed to go to ended already," he said quietly, yet annoyed at the door. As he grabbed the doorknob he turned his head back around to once more look at Craig. "Just...do whatever you want."

"Plan on it," he called out just as the king left. He didn't respond, merely opening and shutting the door, leaving Craig alone once more.

When he heard the footsteps fade, he sat back up on the sofa. He wasn't sure why Kyle pursued him only to quickly leave him alone again. Did he get the feeling that he was beginning to see through his lies? Or was he finally starting to realize that Craig was not a pawn unlike the other humans he encountered?

He stretched his stiff wrists as he laid back on the sofa. It didn't really matter what Kyle thought, anyway. He had far more pressing issues.

The Stick had called to him.

Craig never wanted that. He didn't want magic. He didn't want adventure. All he ever wanted was to be a normal person going about his way. He didn't care about destiny or heroism. He never wanted the most powerful thing in existence to call out to him.

And yet for some reason, despite everything he had ever thought or valued, he didn't mind the fact that it did.

He still didn't want to wield it. He still didn't want to have to break his magic seal and still dreaded the fact that he would soon have to. He especially didn't want anything that came with the mental image of someone possessing The Stick. Yet...perhaps he was simply supposed to save it. For who knows how many years the thing had been trapped, misused by two lying and manipulative kingdoms. Maybe it knew what Craig was doing. How he was going to take it out from this horrible place, to give it to a new king who would restore justice to Zaron.

Craig had a headache. He wasn't used to thinking like this. These feelings were all so new, yet at the same time...familiar.

Still, headache or not, he knew what he was going to do. He wasn't going to steal The Stick. He was going to free it. He was going to give it to the Dark Throne where it belonged.

As he told Clyde he would, he left when the sun was about to set. He still hadn't seen Tweek at all that day, but it was better that way. He didn't know where Tricia was, but he had hardly seen her in the past few days at all. His long lost sister was far more into following the rules of the High Elf Kingdom than being loyal to him. He knew Clyde was right. But that was alright. Before long, she would escape.

He ran into Stan in the long halls on his way to exit the castle. He had a small bandage on the side of his face where Craig had cut him. He instinctually patted his blade that created that injury, making sure it was secure on his person.

"Hey," Stan nodded to him, "Are you going to dinner?"

"No," Craig replied, "I need fresh air."

"You sure?" he asked, "Because I hear that tonight they're-"

"I'm sure," he frowned, annoyed at the forced conversation taking up his time.

Stan gazed at him long and hard. "Hey Craig," he said slowly, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, why?" he tried to force an eyeroll.

"You just seem kinda off," he looked at him even more intensely, "Almost like you're in a trance or something."

"I have a headache," he lied, "That's why I want fresh air."

"If you say so," he narrowed his eyes. Craig dramatically rolled his eyes a second time and continued walking off. Stan was wrong-he wasn't under a trance or a spell. Everything he did was of his own free will.

Thankfully, he ran into no other familiar faces beyond a few unassuming servants the rest of his way out. He freely walked through the doors and then the gates, guards barely saying a word to him. The streets below were even more crowded than before, full of people laughing and going about their evening. Perhaps it was a holiday on that night-there were definitely more soldiers out on the streets, many of whom more focused on enjoying their night than actually doing their job. He even heard some people, quite possibly bards, playing music in the streets.

Craig, on the other hand, only had interest in one song. A song that once he reached the temple was loud and clear, despite all the commotion going on in the streets. The wind seemed to sweep around him, giving him no doubts that it was calling to him.

Just like the first time, he was able to enter the building without any commotion. It was more crowded this time, many worshipers bringing in flowers to lay at the statues' feet. Craig paid them no mind, not even bothering to go into the main hall at all. Instead he focused on high above, where the song came from, and going towards the stairs to reach it.

"Ey!" a voice called out, scolding him as soon as he walked to the bottom of one of the long staircases. The older man in robes of the temple spouted something in Elvish, making it clear that stairs were off limits. Craig sighed as he reached for his pockets. He pulled out the sack of coins he had been allotted by Kyle-quite a lot, as he spent very little of it-and tossed it to the man. He looked skeptical, but nonetheless opened the small pouch. After giving Craig a long hard glare he angrily turned around. Over the years, Craig had learned that most people could be bought.

Craig had only climbed a few tall structures in his lifetime. One time was when he climbed a tower to meet the princess, only to find a girl the Wizard cursed to cement his own power. He remembered how terrifying and inhuman the once beauty icon of Kupa looked. He remembered hiding in her clutter with Bebe as the Wizard brought Red to the princess. He remembered seeing her beaten up yet still as resilient as ever. He remembered how Red smiled at him moments before she was murdered in front of them.

Perhaps Red was a villainous spy. Even so, what the Wizard did was still wrong.

He also remembered climbing up the gnome's tree. The gnomes were a civilization that had been pushed from their home into the forest, much like the barbarians. Their culture and traditions were destroyed in order to take the land they called home, and yet they welcomed Craig and Tweek, still having human-sized accommodations for them.

Perhaps that kindness and willingness to move on was what subjugated them.

He also climbed a tower here in the High Elf City. A tower to meet his long lost sister, in the beautiful city said to keep her safe. Or so he was told.

Following the call, he eventually came across a door. The architecture brilliantly hid it so that viewing it from below, the room attached blended right in. Hidden in plain sight, except for the fact that it was locked. Craig couldn't help but laugh. Even with all the elves' faith, they still needed to have some basic security. Lucky for him, lock picking came as second nature.

He quickly reached for a pin he kept in his shoe and reached for the lock. He twisted it as usual, but quickly realized it was no ordinary lock. The black metal of his thief's lock pick turned bright orange. He quickly retracted it only to see that it was melted, totally destroyed. The lock must be magically sealed. He groaned, frustrated at how things grew more difficult than he had hoped.

The call grew louder from the other side of the door. It was telling him to keep going. "I am," he responded out loud without meaning to.

Suddenly he felt the lock still in his hand jolt. As he loosened his grip, he saw it drop in pieces to the floor with a loud clunk. Heart beating, he reached for the door knob. It opened.

Of course, there were more stairs. It didn't bother him like it usually would, however. This staircase was all inside the internal walls of the temple. It was darker, the stairs a normal, rickety wood. Not the ornate, overly embellished stairs that he had been climbing. These felt more familiar. He couldn't help but give the slightest smile.

It only took a few more minutes for him to traverse that set of stairs as well. At the end, there was none other than another door. Unlike the previous one, however, there was no traditional lock nor door knob, having only a single shaped tile in the middle. Not knowing what to do, he instinctively placed his hand flat on it. The door jolted. Startled, he retracted his hand.

He paused looking at the slightly ajar door for a few moments. Taking a deep breath, Craig pushed on it and it easily opened. As he hesitantly went through it, he saw that there were no more stairs. It was just a small room.

It was a normal looking room, not that unlike an attic in many well built wooden structures. It was dim, with very little natural light seeping into it. As he took steps into it, the floor creaked. Still, Craig didn't pay much mind to the room itself. It wasn't what was important. It was what was sitting there in the middle of it that mattered.

By itself, it didn't seem at all spectacular. It was a mere stick, after all. Not different in appearance from any of the other sticks that fell from the countless trees throughout Zaron. It wasn't even perfect for a stick-it was jagged with smaller twigs poking out the side. It was about the length of his forearm and about two or three times as thick as his thumb. Yet somehow the second he laid eyes on it it became obvious that it was much more than that.

Sure, there was the obvious way it was presented. It was placed upon a pillar that was carved to look as though it had marble branches upon it. It rested upon a simple yet elegant pillow. It was the sort of setup one would expect for a king's crown or prized jewel. Out of context the fact that a stick was presented like that would be laughable to him.

But presentation aside, it wasn't just a stick. Somehow, even if it looked no different than things he had seen before, he could tell it wasn't. It was as if there was a glow around it, even if not literally. As if it and all around it possessed a sort of brightness and color that Craig once had but long since lost. Beckoning him. Calling him to reach for it and grasp it in his hand.

It wasn't as if it was speaking some sort of verbal language to him. Of course not, it was just a stick with no mouth to speak. Yet it seemed to be calling out all the same, now with a different, yet equally eerie song. It was familiar, as if something he once knew long ago and could almost remember. He understood why Tweek couldn't hear it-they were songs specifically him.

Slowly he approached it, raising his arm towards it. He was trembling heavily and wondered if he would miss trying to pick it up. Yet when he was within arms reach of it instead of grabbing it, his hand suddenly recoiled. The pain from before started again, this time not just as a headache but also with a burning sensation where his seal was. He wasn't sure if it was a legitimate reaction from being near The Stick or if it was in his head. Still, he forced himself to bear it and remain in position, trying to ignore the million thoughts that filled his head.

He took a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes as he tried to ignore the pain. He needed to get a hold of himself. This was what he had come all this way to do, what he had been working towards for so very long. Not only that, but The Stick was helping him do it.

He opened his eyes again. Determination on his face, he raised his arm back up and reached out towards it once more.

"Craig!"

The instant calling out of his name made him jump, as if snapping him out of a sort of trance. Heart pounding, he turned around.

He wondered at first if his eyes were tricking him. In front of him, the person who called his name was none other than the High Elf King Kyle himself. Behind him were two familiar human faces, Stan and Tricia.

"I…" he stammered, frozen like prey in front of a predator, "I can-I can explai-"

"There's no need for that!" Kyle cautiously stepped forward, his long robes trailing behind him. He didn't seem angry-he was smiling.

"I don't-"

"We didn't mean to alarm you," Kyle's friendly smile widened, "I've been waiting for this."

"Waiting?" Craig asked, tilting his head in skeptic confusion.

"Yes!" he laughed with a large, relieved smile, "For you to finally take your place and fulfill your destiny!"

"Destiny? I have no idea what you're talking abou-"

"Don't be stupid," Stan rolled his eyes as he cut him off, "You came up here to steal it for Clyde to restore the Dark Kingdom. We know that. We've known that."

Craig's expression fell as his heart seemed to miss a beat. "Y-You're making things up."

"Craig, we've known he's the heir to the Dark Kingdom," Tricia said calmly and slowly, the first time he had heard her speak in a few days, "Clyde-when everything happened to the Dark Kingdom, he was still just a kid. Back then, everyone hoped that...Well, the fact that he got you caught up in some plot wasn't exactly the way we wanted everything to go. We had hoped you'd find your way to The Stick with something less troubling, but…" she trailed off.

"Kyle decided not to interfere," Stan finished for her, narrowing his eyes.

"Right," Kyle nodded, "It doesn't matter to me how things go as long as we get the proper end result."

Craig shook his head slowly, "I still don't understand."

Kyle walked forward again, his smile growing even wider. "You coming here," he explained, "Being called by The Stick-it's all part of your destiny. Ever since you were born, Craig."

"What?"

"Craig, you were born for this," Tricia explained as Craig could swear he saw signs of happy tears forming in her eyes, "La Resistance-Zaron has been waiting for you for so many years."

"You are the hero we've been waiting for," Kyle explained, "You are the one to bring peace and healing Zaron. To put an end to the Wizard, to the remnants of the Dark Kingdom."

Craig flinched.

"Don't worry!" Tricia quickly assured him, noticing her brother's reaction, "We're not going to hurt Clyde. We want to help him."

"Help him?" Craig asked cautiously, "Tricia, this friend of yours just said he wanted to end any last remnants of his homeland. Do you really think this can help him?"

Stan, the only one of the three who had not been smiling, straightened up.

"He can join us, too," Kyle said, "We understand his frustrations-both of your frustrations. After you help-"

"After? He's just fucking collateral to you, then?" Craig laughed, "A fucking prize for me at the end of your game? Like a pet? That's all you view us humans as, right?"

Stan turned towards Craig. "Hey, I don't think-"

"You don't think what?" Craig cut him off, "You don't I, your little predetermined hero, should ask questions?" He turned towards Kyle once more. "I told you before that I wasn't going to be part of some game, some story you came up with."

"Craig, don't be like this. Just listen," Tricia's smile turned into a look of irritation, "This is bigger than you know. Bigger than all of us. Like we said, people have been waiting since before you were-"

"No you listen," Craig's hands balled into fists, "Who the fuck are any of you to come up here and tell me what my life, my destiny is?"

"Craig, you need to calm down," Kyle said, his smile completely absent from his face as he walked closer. He cautiously reached out an arm towards Craig, "I get it. This is a lot to put on you, especially all at once. But if you just take my hand and come with me, we'll explain everything to you. I think once you calm down and understand-"

"I think it's you all that don't understand."

"Then tell us, Craig," Tricia said. She was angry, glaring at her brother as he stared back at her.

He did love his sister. For all those years, he missed her every single day they were apart. The fact that she was alive right in front of him should be like a dream come true. But it wasn't.

"I shouldn't have to tell you anything," Craig broke eye contact, reaching for his blade. Slowly, he brought it up towards his face. He pressed his lips together and began to stick out his tongue.

"NO-" Stan yelled out, quickly running over and body slamming right into him. The force caused Craig to drop his blade, falling to the ground on the other side of the room.

Keeping his senses heightened, as soon as Craig hit the ground he lunged for his blade. However, predicting his moves Stan quickly grabbed his wrist that reached towards it and twisted it painfully behind his back. He quickly elbowed Stan with his free arm square in his chest, causing the other to loosen his grip. As he reached out for his blade once more, Stan quickly rebound, slamming both of their bodies directly to the ground, Craig face first into the hard floor.

"I told you he was bad news," Stan told the other two. Craig struggled, but Stan had him pinned down well.

"Let's bring him back to the castle," Kyle sighed in disappointment, "We'll figure everything out there." He then spoke in Elvish.

"Fine," Stan relented, pulling Craig up by both arms. He could hear the other behind him reach for cuffs, likely the same ones he had used before back in the forest.

Craig closed his eyes. This was it. Slowly he stuck his tongue out-

"Hey what are you-?"

-and bit his teeth down on it as hard as he could.

A black wave of smoke instantly erupted from Craig's body. A shockwave came from it that sent Stan flying away from him, roughly hitting the far wall on the other side of the room and fell to the ground like a ragdoll. Footsteps could be heard from the stairwell down below in the distance, but they were not of any concern.

It was an overpowering sensation, as though every inch of his body was burning. Yet unlike before it wasn't at all a painful burning. Just...overwhelming. Like a new sensation, perhaps not unlike if a blind man saw for the first time. Not even his tongue hurt from where he bit it. It seemed to have healed instantly.

He looked down to his hands in front of him. They were no longer trembling. No, they were glowing. Just like the Stick seemed to, both radiating a bright yellow light.

"Craig!" the hoarse voice of the king called out. Craig turned to him. Kyle and Tricia also seemed to have been pushed back by the blast-albeit not as hard-and were helping each other stand back up.

"What?" he asked, surprised by how even and emotionless his own voice was, even for him.

"Craig. Craig, believe me. You don't want to do this," the young king begged as Craig walked over to The Stick. The entire room was blackened by whatever smoke was produced except for the Stick still seemed to still glow cleanly.

"Craig," his sister called, her voice broken through her tears.

He ignored both of their calls. As if by a new sense, he could feel the movements of the king. He could feel Kyle reach for his staff, how it sent out a blast in an attempt to stop Craig. He merely caught the speeding blast with his bare hand. He squeezed down on the ball of power, dissipating it. As he squeezed down, he could hear the king's wood staff splinter, falling apart into a million useless pieces.

That distraction out of the way, Craig reached out and effortlessly and grasped The Stick.

Holding it was not effortless, he instantly realized it. Somehow the overwhelming energy that pulsated through him managed to increase ten fold. There was black explosion of smoke, but rather a bright yellow beam of energy that seemed almost like the sun radiating from where his hand grasped it. Part of his instincts wanted to instantly drop it, but he didn't. As he held it, it was as if his power connected with it. Strangely, the bright yellow light that initially radiated from The Stick gradually turned purple the longer he held it.

"What's going on?!" a new voice yelled from the doorway. Startled by this, Craig snapped back around towards the doorway.

It was Tweek.

Why was he here? Had he been brought along, told to wait at the bottom of the stairs? Waiting for the other three to emerge with their long awaited hero? Or did he merely follow them in secret, overcome by his own curiosity?

"Craig?" Tweek asked. His voice was quiet yet emotional and his blue eyes wider than he had ever seen them.

These were not the blue eyes that often sparkled at new things or shot him looks of disapproval. This was a look of pure, unadulterated terror. "What's going on? You-You're not...Why are you…?" Tears began to form in his eyes.

It was obvious to Craig. No matter the reason he was here Tweek was terrified of him now. The already feeling of daggers in his chest seemed to feel like the blades were twisting. It hurt.

"I told you, didn't I?" Craig spoke. Tweek didn't answer. It was as if he couldn't. Or at the very least, he wouldn't.

He was right. He had been right from the beginning about him. The fiery pain in his chest grew cold and the last of the yellow light from him and The Stick grew solidly purple.

He turned once more to his crying sister. "Tricia, I'm sorry these people messed with your mind, turning you into their pet. Hopefully soon you'll understand. When that day comes, you're free to join us."

"Craig, don't do this," she sobbed, repeating a very similar plea Kyle had given him. He sighed. He knew she'd be like that. But still, he meant what he said. One day she'd understand.

"All hail the Dark Kingdom."

With that, the stick glowed once more, filling the entire room with a blinding purple light.

When it dimmed once more, Craig was gone.