(Disclaimer) Fun Fact: This story was initially inspired by Snow White. Maria is modeled after the titled character and Lord Voldemort/She Who Shall Not Be Named is the Queen. The scene of Snow White getting lost in the forest in the Disney film really messed me up as a kid, but as we all know now it was a wonderful and ironic twist of inspiration!

Kazama hands me a paper cup of water. I nod a thank you, remembering my manners at least, if nothing else. Though, doing that much is challenging. Forcing myself to take a sip proves even more so. As I stare at the colorless liquid, trying to persuade myself to gulp it back, the water begins trembling. My attention turns toward the open hospital door, out into the hallway. Footsteps march in and over the other sounds of the facility's floor, growing louder with each passing second.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the officer outside says to the traveling group. "Unless you're a certified physician or member of the—"

Martha shoves past him and runs to the bedside, her three eldest sons, Bruno and Saiga trailing in behind her. The poor sap of a policeman goes to argue their intrusion but Kazama holds up a halting hand. "I know them."

"But, sir, with an ongoing investigation it's protocol—"

"It's fine, Isoda," Kazama presses, his annoyance bleeding through his droning tone. "Worry about the hallway. I got it covered in here."

He shuts the door in the guy's face and turns to us with an awkward smile. Saiga wears his usual wry expression—which I'm utterly grateful for despite my vacant look—and nods his head at Kazama. "New guy, yeah?"

Martha turns my face to hers with a pull of her hand. "Maria, what happened? Are you hurt? My God, you're freezing!"

All I can will myself to do is stare back at her. I'm not mad at her anymore. My anger toward my grandmother had diminished with each passing day after our spat. The second stage of my hostility was simply to avoid the woman herself; I may have been able to face her then, but I didn't want to. And I may not be able to say it outright now, but I hope this weensy gesture is enough to relay that that's changed. I can look at you. I'm looking right at you and nothing is red.

I settle back into the hospital bed then, the nausea and chills spiking abruptly, holding Martha's hand between the both of mine. She leans in and swipes her other hand over my clammy forehead.

"She's ice cold," Martha says to Kazama. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's been like this since she woke up. I thought maybe she was sick due to being out in forty degree weather in only shorts and a tank top," the young policeman replies, arms folding over one another. "But the doctor said she's most likely in shock."

"Wait," Crow demands with a shaking head, "what do you mean? What happened to her?"

The officer pauses, his gaze averting to me and back to the other inhabitants of the room. "Dispatch received calls last night from various residents in the Tops area saying there were strange, banging noises on their roofs and a few said they heard a loud crash in an alleyway beside their building. That alley's where I found Maria unconscious."

Deja-vu sweeps over the group just as it had me hours ago. This was no new development, but the incident in the forest rewound and playing out before us. I can feel everyone's gaze gather onto me, stacking like building blocks. I cringe and close my eyes as the looks crumble and cover my skin with emotional bruises.

Bruno, the only one aside from the other blue-haired man in the room to be clueless, says, "But that still doesn't answer anything. We still don't know what happened to her."

"I can't tell you anything more than that."

Jack pipes up, closing in on the policeman. "Kaz, now is really not the time to be concerned with confidentiality. If you're holding anything back—"

"There's nothing to hold back, Jack," he dusts off the duelist's brashness. "Maria hasn't spoken a word since she's woken up and if anyone would know something, we think it'd be her."

Again, the seven pairs of eyes turn on me. I shrink further into the sheets, but they do nothing to make me warmer.

Martha's gentle voice pleads, "Maria, do you remember what happened? Anything, even the smallest thing?"

Cold. I can only conjure that from the depths of my mind. A kind of cold that was more than four letters or a single syllable. A kind of cold that renders your bones immobile, that forms icicles in your blood. Digging any deeper than that proved fruitless, as if the memory of last night was blocked off by a mental glacier.

My breathing speeds up just trying to bring the event forth in my brain and the rapid beeping of the monitor to my left announces my heart does the same. Martha smooths my hair out, reassuring and shushing me all the same.

As Kazama answers a call on his cell, my eyes flash toward Yusei at the far back of the room. I didn't want to look at him, had tried at all costs not to since everyone arrived. I didn't want to see how pathetic I appeared to him. But now that our eyes collide, his worry an equal match for my fear, all I can think is: I told you so. I told you you were the stronger one.

"That was Detective Mikage," Kazama shares after hanging up. "She and Ushio are on their way from the scene now."

Newbie Isoda gets the door slammed in his face for a second time when the two special investigators burst into the room. By this time, I'm feeling well enough to sit up and take more sips of water than the dose of ibuprofen I'm given calls for. The pair of detectives have to quiet the rowdy group before anything else.

"Alright, alright. I know you're all raring to go, so just hold your horses. Maria, I know we've already asked you, but have you remembered anything about last night? Any weird people or..." Ushio trips over his choice in words, "otherwise? Any specific markings or features on these people? Maybe how you got out there, even?"

"She doesn't remember anything," Martha replies in my stead. "Now what did you figure out?"

Ushio returns my grandmother's sobered look with one of his own. "We were really hoping that wasn't the case."

"As of right now, we don't have much," Mikage sighs. "All we found were debris and markings among many of the rooftops that are home to those who called in the disturbances, as well as a dented dumpster we think may have took most of the brunt force of one of the interested person's fall."

"I remember thinking the shape vaguely resembled a body when I saw it," muses Kazama. Then he shakes his head free of any fantasizing, realizes his implication and tells it to the room. "But the shortest buildings in the Tops are at least fifteen stories high. For someone to fall from that height and walk it off like nothing..."

"If they did walk," Ushio corrects. "We can't say for sure they did."

"The analyzers back at Headquarters sent us last night's camera footage outside the alleyway and, sadly, there's nothing. Not even on the streets near it," says Mikage.

"This is all beginning to sound very familiar," Yusei finally gives his two cents. "We know exactly who's behind this."

"Kazama, can you go help Isoda patrol the hallway, please?" Ushio sends the officer a look loaded with contents stronger than politeness or choices. Kazama sends back a glance equally as severe, but relents to authority. Once the door's closed, the detective begins anew, "Even if it is Yliaster, we have absolutely nothing to pin them to this."

"Yeah, because they know how to clean up their messes better than Security does," Crow snaps. When Ushio points his gaze at him, it's obvious he's apologetic to the two detectives before him, but not much else. "It's true. All I'm saying is they know what they're doing."

"Because they've been doing it for years," Mikage states, "or so we suspect. Considering the lack of information we have on their organization and the access and deft at which they've infiltrated our systems, we believe they must be well funded and have endless amounts of resources. To do so would take time, and lots of it spent off the grid."

Ushio takes up the mantle. "We've recently upgraded our database's firewall after the incident with Daisuke Kita. Yet according to our tech specialists, there were no traces of outside infiltration or bugs in the system's network. Whether or not that's actuality, Mikage and I still suspect that there very well may be a member of Yliaster embedded in Sector Security and possibly even in any other government or influential position."

Silence consumes the group, only the beeping machinery and my rapid breaths sounding inside the four walls.

"These people...this Yliaster," Martha's voice gradually takes off, "they're responsible what's happened to Maria? What happened the time she was in that forest?"

"We can't say that, exactly, but we believe they're involved in this somehow," assures Mikage.

"Somehow? Isn't it obvious what's going on?" Jack shouts, his brows pushing against one another. "They're after her! They're after Maria just like they were after us during the Fortune Cup!"

"Now, Jack, while that might just be the case," Mikage appeases Jack's rising temper, "any evidence we have to support those claims is circumstantial at best."

"You don't need anymore evidence! There are three living, breathing pieces of evidence standing right in front of you," he responds, gesturing to he and his brothers.

"We're sorry." Mikage shakes her head, bangs swinging to the sides. "It's just not enough."

I loosen my grip on Martha's hand and slide my legs over the side of the cot. Martha grabs me by the shoulders and I can't quite tell if she's attempting to hold me up or push me down. The vertigo has finally subsided enough for me to open my mouth without the chance projectile vomit will be the first thing shooting from it. "It will be enough," I whisper. "I just need to remember."

Pushing me down, I decide, is Martha's tactic of choice once I feel the mattress underneath me again. "You will, but first you need to rest, Maria."

I don't fight her. Not because I'm too weak to do so, but because I'm so fucking tired. Yes, lack-of-sleep tired, but so much more than that. Tired of not knowing, tired of no control, tired of being left in the dark. Tired of fighting, both those on my side and standing in my way. I'm just so fed up, beyond that even.

As I pry her hands away, I stare my grandmother in the eye. Something clicks in her mind and I know before I utter the words she'll let me go.

"You better come back," she says under her breath.

"Martha, please. I'm like a parasite." I snap and point finger-guns at her as I give the punchline. "Always buggin' ya."

She swallows me in her arms and the wave of nausea returns. But I accept it and steady myself against Martha. I had forgotten how warm she was and this is the best reminder I could wish for. However, I force myself to pull away moments later; if I clung to her any longer, I'd probably melt. Martha pats a hand to my cheek, then goes to the two detectives at the foot of the bed.

"Watch after her," she commands them. Mikage and Ushio nod in unison, and face me.

"Can I get some pants?" Both my palms grip the railing of the bed tight, feeling the ripple in my stomach increasing. "And a bucket?"

Lucciano whistles at their team's largest member as he hovers over him. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!"

Jose rises from the chamber just as somber-faced as always, his power fully regenerated. The self-proclaimed leader clenches and unclenches his hands, then runs similar tests of movement for his other parts. He trusted the trickster's handiwork, but it was of his design to be cautious.

"You would've still been quite the hunk of scrap metal had it not been for us, you know?" Lucciano continues. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man? Like, perhaps how it feels to be the established disappointment of the group? Please do tell, we're just dying to know!"

He did not need to hear Placido's rough tone or witness the smugness in his expression to know that their third counterpart too was milking his empty-handed return as the short-tempered noble sat in his dark little corner.

Jose gives no mind to the taunts and follows through with his words calmly. "He did not tell us she would be this awakened."

"So the Almighty One is to blame for your overconfidence and sheer ignorance of this one's skill?" Placido edges closer. "I'm sure he will be pleased to hear of your doubt."

"I blame no one. Merely address facts. We were not aware of her powers; she is far more advanced than any other we've seen."

"Yes. We weren't." Placido swings his sword round in a circle and all three nobles pass through it, unfazed by the clouds now floating at their feet or the depths at which their thrones stand above. "And now, thanks to you, we are."

"And of course she's more advanced. The God of Destiny would not seek her out if she was as slow as the others," Lucciano states. The trio of deadly beings gaze down upon the image of Maria stepping out of the Security car and onto the street where she lied not six hours prior—the same alleyway the nobles retrieved their shell of a leader from last night. "Or as slow as this one. I think she takes the cake for slowest of them all."

"Regardless, she too is a necessity to our God," says Jose. "He has his reasons for everything, after all."

"If that's what you must tell your ego to lessen the pain." Placido smirks, his blood-red stare shining with superiority. "Next time you should leave capturing Star Children to the professionals and stick to this tournament of yours."

"Now, now children. Play nice," Lucciano pretends to placate them. He does a poor job at that, since he's grinning like madman. "But I must say I agree with Placido. Perhaps its time for us to solely focus on furthering the Grand Design, at least for some time. We all know that is what Star Children need most."

After puking twice, sipping down a third of orange juice, and dressing in sweats and a cardigan, I find myself back in the alley. Now alongside Mikage, Ushio, and the few remaining specialists who hung back on the scene, we examine the crevice all over again. Nothing jumps out at me, but I'll admit I can't quite keep my focus on the area as well as everyone else. My head is pounding like crazy, like my thoughts are scratching to be let out of their prison.

"Is anything looking familiar?" asks Mikage. I shake my head as little as possible. The detective nods and explains, "Our people didn't find much here, either. If not for this dumpster, you would never have guessed anyone had been here at all."

"And you don't remember how you got out here, you said?" I'm irritated at hearing Ushio repeat that golden question, but it's all inward. It's anger and frustration at my unwilling mind, not at the guy who is just doing his job.

"I sleepwalk. It's happened before," I suppose, coming up with the next best thing. "It's how I got in the forest."

"Do you remember when that was?"

"The day exactly, no. But it had to have been over a month ago now," I respond. "Check with Martha or the guys to be sure."

Ushio nods. "Alright. I'm gonna hang down here, make some phone calls and see what else the analyzers can dig up on the street cameras. If you did indeed sleepwalk into that forest, there should've been cameras recording. In the meantime, Mikage will take you up to the rooftop the other officers are at."

After a short drive some streets over, we hop out the car. I pause immediately and look around at the buildings lining the pavement. My gaze locks on the tallest skyscraper in the area, the gleaming glass and metal of the twins' apartment complex. I noticed it at the alley sight seeing how gargantuan it is, but this street—I know this street personally.

"We come this way every morning," I exhale. "I walk the twins to school every morning on this street."

We ride the elevator seventeen stories up and to the roof. A half dozen Security officers hunch over various parts of the flattop, briefcases and bags spilling out with equipment. Mikage and I shuffle in among them to the center.

"Do you think you've ever been up here?"

I shake my head no. Unlike this place, the alleyway seemed familiar, as if the memory of it had a gauzy film over it. Yet, I can't place myself there physically and the familiarity seems deceiving more than worthy of my trust. I could have easily dreamed the feeling up or even tricked myself into believing I had known the place because everyone said that's where I was. Either way, this rooftop is completely foreign to me.

I meander from group to group, looking over shoulders and eavesdropping on bits of conversation. Nothing. When I come across the massive indentation in the roof's addendum, which looks to house the main ventilation fan, my chills incline.

"This," I say through chattering teeth. "What happened?"

"We think there was a fight of some kind up here. There are a few other buildings that have markings and scratches that match with the ones found here, but this building in particular may have been the origin of the encounter."

"Someone made this? Like, by throwing something or hitting against it?" I clarify. Mikage nods. "If it began here, do you think the fight ended in the alley?"

"It would explain the noises multiple residents in buildings within the span of the fight recount hearing." The detective exhales and puts her hands to her hips. "But it's like Kazama said, these buildings are incredibly high up. For someone to leap across twenty-story buildings with ease... It's...unthinkable,"

An epiphany, taloned and feathered, illuminates my shaded mind. "This is going to sound super dumb, but what if they're not leaping across. What if they're flying?"

"Like in a helicopter?"

I hesitate, plucking my words carefully for once. Talk of a human-murdering owl would seem beyond crazy and well deserving of another trip back to the hospital, so I turn my point on its head. "I was just thinking about how you said that in the footage that caught Sora before he was killed that he was running, but from something the camera's couldn't see."

Realization sets in for her and Mikage scans the open air. She must be replaying an imaginary rundown of the fight in her head. "They were up here. The killer was here. But with who?"

She excuses herself to call up Ushio. I turn back to the yellow tape sectioning off the area of damage. I lower under it, colder with every step toward the wall. So freaking cold my breath comes out in a visible puff by the time I'm right before it. My hand reaches for it.

I bow to my knees at once. Just like the claw marks on the back of Martha's house, my brain pounds an alarm as images rush through it. The forest. The spindly, thorny trees coated in layers of fog and cemented to the dry, frosted earth. Up in the raven-black sky is the moon, shining whole and high over all the land. A speck floats in the middle of it, closing the distance between us as it flies closer. An owl, screeching as it settles on an overhanging branch. The backdrop then fades, only the owl remaining—now an image carved in stone.

—

It was gone. The footage of Sora and all the other victims roaming the streets hours, minutes, and seconds before their demise was wiped clean from the Security's database. And not just these, but footage of my blackouts, both last night's and the one that sent me lost in the wilderness. I gave thought to telling the detectives of my very first one, the blackout that landed me passed out in Nayla's yard, a sliver of hope that this could give them something, anything. But it was practically guaranteed the gateway blackout would be as non-existent as the other two.

Though not forthrightly proclaimed, we all knew what this meant. These murders, this killer, Yliaster, and I...we are all connected. And someone, whether of the treacherous organization or the murderer themselves, is covering our link up. Some shadow, some faceless entity, some crack in the wall...they know what I am. What we all are. Who the killer is.

Those are the last solidified thoughts I have. The rest of the day passes in snapshots, quick minor events that I'm aware of and yet still feel like memories. Like I'm remembering them and not living them. Like little fragments of my life captured in sepia and resting in frames on my dresser so that I can relive them whenever I see fit.

After the glimpse caused by touching the wall, I returned to Martha's. Dr. Schmidt gave me a look over. "...shock?" he said to Martha, I believe. "...more like she's sick...kind of fever..."

The kids handed me cards and drawings and wishes to get well soon. I smiled through ragged breaths and even more as I sifted through the masterpieces.

I woke up with my head in Aki's lap, sights on the twins studying hard. Until Rua noticed I was awake and wanted to play, or rather to procrastinate his academic duties as much as he could.

By dinnertime, the shivering had sufficiently died down. I was still freezing, yet most of the quivers at that point were the results of anxiety and stress. Despite the rising temperatures of the late spring season, Martha decided soup for the night's meal of choice. It proved to be best, however, with the addition of mouths congregating round the table.

We floated outside after. The kids wanted to spend the rest of the waning daylight sprinting off their supper and Martha, with reluctance, agreed. My brothers, Bruno, and the twins join them in the grins and laughter. I know I spoke with Carly and Aki on the porch steps, yet I can't recall of what.

I wake up alone, back in my room—Mom's room. It's the middle of the night. I hadn't dreamt of anything meaningful and even if I had, I had no place to scribble it down. My moleskine was back at the twins'. So I pet Annie awake and cradle her in my arms as we creep down to the basement. The lightbulb is turned on by the pull of a cord and the computer booted up.

1:36—"The owl is seen as the symbol of Athena in Greek cultures, representing knowledge, status and wealth in many Greco-Roman cultures... However in ancient Egyptian, Celtic, and Latin American cultures, the owl is perceived as the guardian of the underworld and the protector of the dead."

2:19—"Nature presents us with an array of counterparts and the opposing relationship between the sun and moon is one of the oldest and rudimentary representations of these. ...What's most intriguing about the moon is the means by which she acquires her light. Though considered a luminary, the moon would not be able to illuminate the earth without the sun's light reflecting off her."

2:54—"...In astrological terms, the moon governs the sign of Cancer and controls intuition as well as emotion. ...The moon shares a natural relationship with water, as she is the cause of the push and pull of tides."

3:08—"Full Moon: symbolic of the height in power, the peak of clarity, fullness and obtainment of desire... moon phases have always been used as a telling of time in various cultures worldwide. Due to this, it is said the face of the moon is that of immortality and eternity."

3:22—"Regardless of all religious stances, the universal undertone for water is of purity and fertility. Countless myths declare primordial waters as the source of creation. Thus, water has come to be viewed as life itself."

4:47—"...this element is also metaphysically responsible for other domains, such as compassion, psychic insight, community and healing."

5:13—"To dream of water is to stare into the face of one's consciousness and emotional state of mind. ...Seeing calm waters is symbolism of serenity and happiness."

5:39—"The sun is regarded by most peoples as a cosmic power; of all cosmic or natural symbols, the sun is by far the most common to find emblazoned on all types of artifacts and garments. ...The sol is esoterically the embodiment of the mind and intellect, as it is also known as the cosmic eye which overlooks all."

5:41—"The astronomical and astrological icon of the sun is a circle with a dot in the center..."

5:46—"...sun symbol represents the Self... In astrology, the sun is captured as the Self expressed outwardly—toward family, friends, and the world."

5:52—"Possessing the ability to breathe fire and often shown with gleaming scales or of bright hues, dragons are commonly known as solar creatures. ...Asian and Latin American cultures depict dragons similarly; dragons are benevolent, wise deities that often times control aspects of the water element or weather."

6:25—"As long as mankind has lived, stars have served as a symbol of guidance and assurance. These twinkling lights ignite hope and wonder in the dark of night... By textbook definition, stars are blobs of gasses tied together by their own gravity. This can be interpreted as the star's nature as a lone organism built on their own self-reliance."

6:34—"...Take the Star Tarot Card, for instance. The maiden is immersed in blissful peace in the lush springs that serve of healing and renewal. Her nudity symbolizes how at ease she is, comfortable in her own skin without a worry or fear plaguing her mind."

6:37—"Notice how the largest star sits above the maiden's head. This announces that her guidance is her crowning glory, owed to her own superior consciousness. ...If this Tarot Card is ever revealed at a reading, it is a sign that the seeker has suffered recently and that a time of rejuvenation is upon them. The sight of the Star is the promise of a better day..."

I print the image out, shut the computer down, and sit back on the couch.

Spirit dealings aside, this seems strangely accurate. I don't know about all that guidance stuff—I don't seem to be doing so hot in that department. But assurance and psychic intuition, that sounds right. And maybe all this other stuff...maybe it comes along the way. Ancient Fairy Dragon mentioned something about awakening, about how I'm not yet where I'm supposed to be. So this person, this maiden with stars on her head and healing waters at her feet, is this where I'm supposed to end up? Is this...what I am? My purpose?

"...You would not have your mark if you could not walk its path," Ruka's dragon told me.

Yes, I think so. This is who I'm supposed to be. The Signers are branded as warriors, the Crimson Dragon's league of fighters destined to battle their counterparts every five-thousand years. But as far as I could find, there was no fated manual to live my existence by. But this...I believe this is it.

I have no guide because I am my guide.

And these blackouts are meant to lead me somewhere. They are my subconscious guiding me down the path I'm supposed to walk. Nayla's house, the forest, the alley—these places are connected through me, my mind. Hidden somewhere in the crevices of these places are mysteries I need to uncover about myself and the world around me.

It's about damn time I figure out what.

The sun sits halved, partially in the murky blue sky and disguised by the darkness of the earth. Morning's mist is still in the air, clinging to the treetops or delicately brushing over nature's roots. The lack of noise is disarming since the forest lays in the northwestern edge of New Domino, but I can understand why. This bunch of wilderness seems to exist in a universe of its own, protected by forces outside our world and yet to be tainted by man's touch.

Unlike the alley and Nayla's, there is something mystical in the atmosphere of this place. When I had been here last, I was so afraid that I miscalled it. I thought it to be doomed when it was really a place of magic, of potential. Fear twisted my perception as it always has. But if I force myself to be above that, even if momentarily, maybe this wooden mass of the unknown would reveal its secrets to me.

"You're sure you're well enough to do this?" Carly asks as she joins me side at the car's hood.

The shivering had muted itself as yesterday progressed. It never fled my body completely, but I was well enough to unchain myself from bedsheets and eat the better part of a meal without instantly regretting it. And standing here now, I can feel it creeping back up my spine, pricking my insides with chills. So no, I'm not well enough to be doing this. But I've already begun convincing myself that the cold I'm feeling is just the usual drop in morning temperatures.

I keep my sights straight on the path of woodchips disappearing into the woodland's depths. "I need to do this, Carly. There's something in there waiting for me."

"Just a guess here, but it's probably the spirits that tried to pick you off just like they're doing with the rest of the city," she says, sarcasm hardening her tone.

"I don't think they're still here. They must have been on the rooftops of the crime scene," I explain, facing her. "You should have seen the damage they caused. That wasn't a fight to kill. I think it was one for survival."

"You think something's chasing them?" Carly gasps after. "But what could do that? What would be able to fight off spirits?"

I already have my suspicions, but I want to keep them to myself until the right evidence comes along to support them. Here's hoping that evidence is somewhere between these trees. "I'm not sure, but if either of them are here—that's why I brought her."

Annie has parked herself in the grass just before the path begins, her tail waving side to side. As if she knows she's being gossiped about, she twists her head back at us.

"Maria," the reporter sighs. "You know I believe in all of this—whatever it is—with my entire soul... You know I believe in you. But don't you think we should call Ushio and Mikage, at least?"

"What would they do, Carly? You think guns and search hounds are going to fend off malicious spirits?" I counter. "If it turns out there are spirits in there and more, do you really think it would be wise to put even more innocent lives in danger?"

"I just want to be protected," she replies, glasses tilting down at the ground. "We don't know what's in there, what we're looking for... We don't know anything, Mar."

"But we are protected. Annie and I have both faced the spirits—and won. We will do it again." I press my hands to her shoulders and stare her in the eye. "I don't want to pressure you into choosing. But you have to understand, this isn't a choice for me. Whether you decide to come along or go and tell Security, I'm going in. I can't be in the dark any longer. I have to know."

I shift the backpack with a good tug on its straps and begin my trek onward. About two feet in, I hear: "Dammit, Maria!"

Carly jogs toward me, her pack and camera bouncing as she comes. I grin and fold my arms across my chest. "I knew you couldn't resist a good scoop."

"Yeah, yeah. You know my weakness. Whatever!"

We move on. "Jack's not gonna be too happy about this, you know," I continue teasing. My smile falters when I imagine the blond giant wreaking up havoc when he catches wind of our excursion. When, not if. "Although, he'll probably blame me more than you."

"And he'll just have to deal with it." She shrugs. "He's my boyfriend, not my father."

"Hold up. Wait a minute." I stop in my tracks, hands put out to literally stop the flow of time. "Did you just say the B-word I think you did?"

"Oh, right." Carly breaks out in a coy, giddy smile. "I must have not told you."

I punch her in the arm, apologize for the overestimation of force, and resume spazzing. "No, you did not tell me! When did this happen—and don't even pretend you don't want to tell me every mushy-gushy detail!"

"It happened after the whole thing with his duel-bot impersonator. We just started talking and stuff and then we started not talking, if you're catching what I'm putting down."

"Yes, I am and I wish I wasn't—" I glance around at the forest floor. "Where's Annie?"

We sprint down the trail shouting for her. By now, the sun's fully in the sky, a distant translucent light behind sheets of mist. Its ascent does nothing to aid us in locating our lost guide, however. The two of us make sure not to split up and dart around the trees, jumbling lefts and rights. Forward, forward.

The both of us shriek when Annie appears out of nowhere, a pleasant and calm ball of fur sitting on the ground awaiting us.

"You freaking cat!" I yell between wheezes. "I'm so worried and scared for you I can't even think of something more demeaning to call you!"

Annie blinks, but gives no other response. I plop onto the dirt beside her and rummage through my bag for my inhaler. God bless Dr. Schmidt for giving me a new one.

"Uh, Maria?" I change my glare at my pet to a questioning look at Carly. She's not eyeing me, but the immense thicket that's devoured the three of us whole. "Where are we?"

I shut my eyes and shake my head, a grimace befalling my features. "You sneaky little fish-lover," I grumble. "I hate you, but I love you."

Annie gets up again, a seemingly flippant wave of her tail as she continues on. We follow, of course, seeing as it's that or stay in this random home of trees forever.

"So no more boy-talk, I take it?" Carly chuckles.

"No. Bad things happen when we talk about boys."

"Can I get an amen!" Birds take flight from the treetops and to the wind. "The forest agrees. Boys are the root of all evil."

We keep a close watch on Annie from then on, mostly saying nothing and listening to nature's music. This was all beginning to feel familiar—not the route Annie's leading us down, but simply being here. The images of recovering from my second blackout spring forward in my mind. The aimless wandering has become guided searching. Fear has morphed into curiosity and determination. The illusion of fog and trees is now a harmless reality.

The hazy sense of deja-vu enhances when the forest parts in two for a rocky, traveling brook. Carly snaps some pictures of it as we follow it through its course and all I can think about is the river I awoke to in one of my visions. My thoughts wander to the girl with a face. How was she doing? And her father? Did he take good care of her? Did he remarry and restore what life had stolen from them?

"This thing must flow into the ocean," Carly's voice hushes my thoughts. "But where does it begin?"

Our feline tour guide answers her in roughly another mile's stretch. A cascade runs from a formation of vine and moss infested rock. Its water pools together at the base and slims out into the brook as it runs on. Annie leaps into the pool without an ounce of hesitation and paddles herself toward the small waterfall, vanishing underneath it. Carly and I share a look.

"Aren't cats supposed to be afraid of water?" she comments while removing her shoes and socks.

I jump in first to gauge how deep it goes. Walk all the way to the cascade and back. "It only goes up to my chest, so we shouldn't have to swim. And we should probably leave our stuff here, so our electronics don't get soaked."

"I have a better idea. Ta-da~!" Carly brandishes a handful of ziplock baggies. "You said to come prepared."

"Well, look at you, Indiana Jones," I grin.

After stuffing any tech we have in the bags, we carry our packs over our heads and past the falls. We both release awed exhales when we enter the cave. Pushing off the stones underwater, we hoist ourselves onto the solid bank. In the distance is another waterfall streaming down into another body of liquid. The resultant gap of the structure causes the tunnel's ceiling to allow sunlight to reach into the cave and refract across the liquid.

"This place is like a dream," I laugh.

"For real!" Carly shouts, pausing in her photoshoot. "Can we live here?"

A black smudge latches on my peripheral. At the foot of the bend near the other waterfall stands Annie. I beckon Carly over and together we skip over the rocks toward the area. The cave ends around the corner, but I know at first glance this is where the true journey begins. Annie rests far from the fall in a niche of sediment, directly before a sapped fire pit.

I kneel at the cluster of pebble and twig, then my hands dig in them. The remnants are charred, but not heated and even slightly soggy from the moisture in the air. To the right of the pit are a collection of bones and I have to take a moment to steel myself before inspecting them. With a stick from the pit, I spread them apart; they're much too small to belong to a person—definitely fish and some kind of bird by the look of scattered feathers.

Whoever was in here hadn't been back in a while.

Carly taps me on the shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You're shivering pretty bad. The water was cold, but..."

"I'll...be okay," I swear, hugging myself. "We just need to...find something good."

"That shouldn't be too hard."

Carly juts her head at the wall behind the camp. The sun shines bright enough to reveal the markings to us without added light. I can't make out any and Carly's more concerned with taking pictures of the symbols than deciphering them. Lots of circles and squares with squiggly lines and dots confined in the shapes.

"Alright. Maria, I think I got some good ones," calls the reporter, "but can we please hurry up? I don't like the vibe in here and you look like—"

"I'm...f-fine!" my teeth chatter. "Go...if y-you want."

There is something here, hidden in plain sight. I just need to... I step closer to the wall, squint my eyes. It's an owl exactly like the one I envisioned back on the roof—the body and head made of circles, the thin hooks for wings, the branching lines of a tail. This is it.

"I'm stronger than this...I'm stronger than this..."

I strike my palm against the image. My head surges with pain not a moment later and I can hear the echo of Carly shouting, but it fades under the static quickly. I know she's standing above me, but all I can see as my neck strains back is light. My body feels heavy and as if I no longer have control over myself. The shivering's increased ten fold. I'm frozen to the ground.

The light dims to black.

Then it shimmers in the distance and crosses over my vision, bringing a flood of images with it. No, not images. Memories. Though they fly by faster than they ever have, I can tell these are the memories of my life. My life in New Domino, with Martha and my new family. The guys, Aki, the twins and Carly. My life at the cafe and Nayla's home. Every place I've been since I moved here. All the laughter and confusion and happiness and pain. Pain...so much pain. I'm back in Izushi. In a shabby motel, barely living. Empty. At the funeral, numb numb numb. I won't cry, not for these people. Fire, scorching flames. But Mom's back soon, and we're working the flower shop together. Smiling, dancing. Our home, restored anew. School is fine. I'm alone, but fine. I'm smaller and smaller and smaller. A man with books. Where did you go? What did I do? Why don't you love me?

Another spark of light. Faster. My shoulder aches, but the light shines on.

He will pay. Fire, blazing for eternity. Burn it all. You did this to me, all of you. You deserve this. Crying a river of tears. Drowning, sinking. Run for your life. Birthmarks. Gods. Tree of life. Alone. It should have been me. I did this to you. Blood. How do I get it off? It's all over me. They hate me. They'll always hate me. I love you. She loved you. Marigolds. The sun, setting and rising. The ocean. She has a face. She has a name. Rebirthed.

A spectrum. A thread. Agony ripping through my stomach.

Gold. My light. It dwindles. Plummeting to the earth. A battle, a war. Day and night. Alive. Poisoned. My sky. My love. Return to me. How could you do this to me? My sun. Our home. His stars. We are all his children. Goodbye. Hello. Lonely, I'm so lonely. It's dark. The beginning of time.

Light.

"...already called the ambulance! ...so bad! She's bleeding..."

The static lessens gradually. My head rests at peace. Muscles ease, pain dulls. Breathe in, breathe out. I'm warm at last.

This was not supposed to happen. The memories were meant to be eased into her, slow and divided enough for his bearer to process them. For her to come to terms with them, for her to understand. This was not what he intended. This mind-numbing suffering was not what he intended for his star.

She would still remember despite this alteration in his aid. The influx of memories would leave no discernible trace of themselves, only a whisper of familiarity. They could easily be tapped if properly reminded.

No, it is not her capability that concerns Zephyrus, but her feelings. Her pain and loneliness and disorientation was apparent to him even in the corners of time and space. What he had already shown her had done a beating to her heart, which hurt him despite knowing this was what was necessary for her and her realm's greater good.

Though this blight of remembering was expected to be wiped clean, the scar of it would ingrain itself on her mind. She would not forget what her mark caused—what he caused. And if this plays as he suspects, he and his bearer will be set even farther apart.

The ancient spirit lifts from his caverns, then, and flies to the springs at the bottom of his temple. He warned her of the three cursed beings; he knew of their false God and foresaw well ahead of his plans for his bearer's world. However, he must warn her of the Other—just as he could feel his star's light intensifying, the presence of the Other's bleak flame itself was becoming difficult to ignore.

In the harmonic waters, his reflection winks. If his star would resist his call, he must call upon a spirit who will not.

Just fyi, it wasn't stated explicitly but Ushio and Mikage had already interviewed Maria briefly prior to the start of this chapter. The beginning of this chapter also starts early in the morning, like 6 or 7 AM.

Being a spirit is weird. And I'm not some weirdo who enjoys making weird stuff—I mean I am, but that's beside the point. Any guesses or comments on the ending? I know it's a jumbled mess, but it's a mess with meaning I SWEAR. The dots are all there, we just gotta connect them :)

Anyway, thanks for reading and stay tuned for more creepiness and heartache~! TTFN