I think that, for once, I got a chapter posted on time! But I only have two more chapters left in my stash before I have to actually start writing again, so that's gross and we'll see what happens. (For some context, this year I've been posting the dozen or so chapters that I had slowly written and edited beginning in mid-2017, if you can believe it.) Chapter 155 happens to be the most difficult chapter I've EVER attempted to write, and because of that, there were several instances where I'd almost given up on TG and just thrown the baby out with the bathwater. But it's okay. I actually managed to write ~200 words today, so maybe this is a sign that things are getting better. I just need to finish, and then I can go back and rewrite everything the way I actually want it to go :'D

Sashie11: Ugh, I know how you feel. I've had a HARD time writing these sad Kai-less chapters. And you know what? You're absolutely correct, Cole in his true persona is more of an ISFJ. That's my bad. Nice catch! Enneagram type 2 and 4, eh? That's an interesting combo. Thanks for your review!

Jens: Lou's a type 1. I thiiiink Zane might be a 3? But I'm more tentative on that one. Lou would make a scary King XD And yeah, I don't think Cole realizes just how lucky he is to have found someone like Kai. I can promise you right now, they remain lifelong friends. Thanks for your review!

All the other Guests: you're all lovely people, and I love you and thank you with all my heart for your reviews. But I'm going to have a difficult time answering your questions and comments when you don't give yourselves unique tags XD I'm going to answer all the questions in one paragraph and see how that works this time. 1) Like TWO of you, I believe I'm also an INFJ! That's so funny. 2) Lloyd, unfortunately, was killed by the plague, and Misako is taking refuge in the South. 3) Saying that the Enneagram type Two in SAL's song is a martyr is scary accurate. Y'all, if you have a type Two in your life, please give them some extra love. They need the reassurance.

I thiiink that's it? It's late now, so I'm calling it a day. Thank you all for your continued support! I love you all. And special thanks to Kira Vulpes for her continued assistance making my manuscripts legible enough for my audience to enjoy.

**Trigger warning! Suicide

Goodbye

Face hard, boots striking the floor with uninterruptible purpose, Peran ascended to the second level of the King's Keep. He strode toward the door at the end of the hall where two Guards uncertainly watched his approach.

It didn't matter that he'd removed his gloves in the dungeon. Akins' blood still covered his hands, and would for the rest of his days. Much like Makeri's: red vomit, red tears, red sweat. Dead because Peran had not seen the signs in time to get him help.

And like Kaeli's: red like her hair, strewn across a pillow that was not her own. Dead because Peran hadn't the foresight or courage to keep her from Garmadon's vile grasp.

The King would no doubt be armed, even in his own bedroom: in all the many winters Peran had known Garmadon, from spoiled Prince to corrupt King, he had never seen the man without his weapon. This was not for show: Peran's recent defeat during their altercation in Sheshin Keep was proof of the King's deadly proficiency.

But this fight would have a different ending: with Peran's blade through Garmadon's body. The tables had turned. Peran would finish this, and he would take Vara back.

"Let me pass," Peran ordered.

The Guards before the King's door hesitated, hands on their weapons. "Our Blessed King instructed us not to let anyone into his bedroom until later this morning," one said after glancing at his partner. "I'm sorry, High General."

"I have an important message for the King," Peran snapped. "It cannot wait. Tell him I am here."

"I'm sorry, High General, but our orders were explicit. We cannot disturb-"

The Guards crumpled to the floor with red gashes in their throats.

More eternal blood on his hands. But in the end, whose fault was that?

Peran flicked blood from the sword gifted to him by the King twenty winters ago and flung the door open, scanning the room in a quick sweep.

Empty, neatly-made bed. Closed wardrobe. A leather-bound book on the nightstand, next to a half-used, unlit candle. A cloak draped over a chair to his right.

Garmadon lay face-down on the floor by his window, convulsing violently.

Peran fell into a defensive stance. No blood or signs of a struggle, aside from a spilled, broken wineglass on the carpet. The window was closed. Peran entered the room and flung open the wardrobe and washroom doors. No one was there. A trick? Peran noted Garmadon's sword still in its sheath on his hip.

…Poison, then?

Still wary of a trap, Peran knelt over the King, whose breath came in long, ragged wheezes.

"Who did this?" Peran demanded as he rolled the King onto his back, pinning his uncontrollably flailing arms to the floor. "Someone from the South? From Borg?" He glanced at the corpses outside the door. "Those Guards?"

The King, his face a dangerous shade of red, did not seem to notice Peran: his eyes, bloodshot and unseeing, stared through the ceiling above them.

A white envelope peeked out of the King's coat. Peran snatched it out and read the name written across the front.

"Who the hell is Aida?"

The King, of course, did not respond, and so Peran broke the wax seal and read the enclosed letter quickly.

Aida, light of my world which was dark, swift tongue of justice, and Blessed heir of these four realms,

I have lived my life in the comforting darkness of a lie: that my sins were not my own; that I was bound by ropes I could not break; that I was a puppet with no control over my right hand or my left. But you have shown me the truth, and with this pen as my sword, I will finally cut myself free.

Aida, my daughter. I regret a countless number of choices I have made over the course of my long life, but I do not regret sparing your life all those years ago. Though I am eternally sorry for the pain I caused you and your mother, I am glad that Overlord could not break your spirit. As surely as you have my eyes, you have inherited your mother's courage. You are strong- stronger than I ever was- and I can go to my grave in peace, knowing that your mother's blood, not mine, has equipped you with the qualities necessary to rule this Known World. I hope and pray to the First King that His citizens will judge you by your strength of heart, and not by your heritage.

My legacy is tainted by blood. But I know that, with your signature on the South's peace treaty and my own declaration of peace, I have done something worth remembering. Even if you will be the one remembered for it.

I have left all the necessary legal documents to crown you and end this war in the lockbox in my study- for which you have the only key, given to you in the presence of the Guards standing outside my door, Dexon Hala and Kosime Jirel, so no one can doubt my wishes for you and for this country.

Aida, my firstborn, my dearest daughter, go with my blessing. Be courageous, be strong.

Peran skimmed the letter a second time to make sure he'd read correctly.

So, here was confirmation of what Peran already knew in his heart: Vara was indeed Kaeli's daughter.

He looked at the dying King on the floor before him. Spasming, foaming at the mouth, face becoming bluer by the second. Weak coughs interrupted even weaker breaths. A pathetic way to go.

Peran supposed he should be angry. He should have crumpled the letter, torn it into a dozen pieces and scattered them over the King's dying body. He should have taken his sword and slit the King's throat where he lay. Revenge within his sight, but this letter had tied his hands.

Shit.

He carefully folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. But the seal was broken.

Shit!

What now? He'd killed those Guards at the bedroom door, so who would believe him if he insisted he hadn't killed the King as well? And what of this suicide note? Would people suspect Peran had forged it?

He remembered the dead Guard's words: "Our Blessed King instructed us not to let anyone into his bedroom until later this morning." When the body would be cold, and they could attest that no one had entered the bedroom.

With that assurance now gone, the Priests could put whatever words they wanted into the dead King's mouth. It's a lie, they would tell the people. His bastard daughter has no claim to the crown. The treacherous High General Peran planted this fake letter on his body.

Peran groaned, rubbing his forehead as the King continued to gasp for air.

He knew the law. He knew what would happen if no legitimate Blesseds came forward after the King's death: the Priests would take the crown for themselves.

By entering this room, Peran had destroyed any chance the King may have had of thwarting the Priests and ending the war.

Shit, shit, shit!

Well, what else could be done? He could search the room for an antidote to the poison. But how would he recognize it? Somehow Peran knew it wouldn't be here, anyway.

He could flee through the window and leave the King to his chosen fate. That would all but guarantee that the Priests would cry foul, but they were certain to do that anyway, now that the scene had been tampered with. At least if Peran ran now he had a chance of getting away.

Or he could leave the room, lock the door, and claim that he hadn't been able to gain entrance after killing the Guards. Yes, except for the broken wax seal, that might work. It was a long shot, but, at this point he didn't have many options.

He picked up his sword and moved to stand, but froze at the sound of footsteps down the hall, accompanied by a shout of alarm.

Shit.

Lou saw the intruder kneeling over the King's gasping, trembling body with a bloody High General's sword in hand. Vara did, too, and cried out. She rushed into the bedroom so quickly- perhaps intending to throw herself at this unknown High General- that Lou almost didn't grab her in time.

"Drop your sword," Lou ordered, tightly holding Vara's forearm as she howled and struggled against him. "Hands behind your head!"

To his surprise, the High General complied. Lou let Vara go and she dashed across the room, falling to her knees beside Garmadon. She touched his face tentatively. Wide, unseeing bloodshot eyes and bluish skin. He could breathe, but the air in his lungs seemed to do him no good.

"What is wrong with him?" Vara asked. "Lou, what's wrong with him?

Lou crossed the room and snatched up the High General's sword from the floor.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

The High General did not look up or speak. He wore his peppered hair in the traditional style, tied back with the red and gold beads of the South.

Then Lou recognized him.

"Clouse Peran," he scoffed, and the man cringed. "I'm not sure whether I should be surprised."

"I didn't do it," Peran whispered at last, eyes on the floor. "He was already like this when I came here."

"I find that very hard to believe. You've had a vendetta against Garmadon even before he even inherited the crown."

"It's the truth," Peran said. "Hosts… I'm so sorry, Lou. I ruined it."

"What did you ruin?"

Peran held up an envelope, which Lou snatched and examined. The wax seal- Mena's Tree, the official emblem of the King- was broken. A single word on the envelope read in the King's careful script: Aida.

Holding the sword under the High General's chin, Lou read the letter. Aida, light of my world which was dark, swift tongue of justice, and Blessed heir of these four realms…

Well, shit, he thought when he reached the bottom. If Vara had opened this letter first, or a Guard, or hell, even a servant… Instead it was Peran and me.

"I've doomed the South," Peran said. "If I hadn't come…"

Lou looked at Garmadon and the broken glass of wine beside him. Though he narrowly hung on to life, he didn't notice Vara weeping over him.

"Stay put," Lou told Peran. He applied pressure to the blade, forcing the High General's chin upward. "Hey. Hey, look me in the eyes when I'm speaking, you son of a bitch! You so much as sneeze and I will kill you. Understand?"

There was no fear in Peran's eyes as he met Lou's; only weary resignation.

"Good." Lou tossed the sword across the room and drew his own knife as he knelt beside the King.

"Help heem," Vara pleaded. Her accent came in thick as her composure continued to unravel. "Please, Lou, help heem!"

"I will. Look away." He took the King's spasming left hand and pushed his knife deep into the soft flesh of the King's underarm. He cut a quick, steady line about three inches long, then discarded the knife. As the wound spurted blood over his hands, clothes, and the carpet, he coaxed some power from an Implant. White light streamed from his fingertips and into the gash in the King's arm, then…

And then only continued to bleed.

What's this? Lou frowned, thinking fast.

"The glass!" He clamped his hand over the wound to staunch the flow. "Vara, get me a piece of glass with residual wine on it."

"W-what?"

"Wet glass. Now!"

Vara whirled around and did as she was told, grabbing a large, bowed piece of glass so fast she cut her finger on it. Lou snatched it from her. He touched the wet side of the glass shard, quickly separating the liquids with a little stream of white light: a thimbleful of white wine to a single bead of dark brown liquid. He touched his bloody thumb and forefinger to the drop of poison.

Finally having what he needed, he concentrated his power on the King's bloodstream, balling his right hand into a fist and raising it with force, separating poison from blood and pulling it out from the bleeding cut. The King's back arched. He drew in a prolonged, strained breath through pale and parted lips.

In total, Lou pulled perhaps a spoonful of poison from Garmadon's body. It trickled down his arm and into the carpet, where it was quickly absorbed.

Satisfied that he'd pulled all of it out, Lou closed the laceration carefully between his thumbs, then healed it.

"Ees- ees he okay?" Vara asked. She gaped at the King's arm, pale.

"Shh." Lou laid his ear to the King's chest. Breathing and pulse were weak, though steady. His lungs did not sound flooded.

What was this poison which Lou had never encountered before? What lasting damage could it have done to the King's body?

Dammit, he was no doctor! His knowledge of the human body was limited to whatever he had experienced while possessed by Overlord. And Overlord was no healer.

There was nothing more Lou could do, so he leaned back. He moved to pull his hair back from his face, but caught sight of the blood on his shaking hands.

Warm, metallic, and entirely too sweet. He focused on it, reading it with curiosity. A residual effect of Overlord on his mind: he could learn a lot about a person through the scent of their blood. With one deep breath, Lou knew the blood was thick with the hormones which came with fear and near-death.

With a jolt of horror Lou realized what he was doing. He gasped and wiped his hands on Garmadon's sleeve. It did little to clean his skin, and even less to clear the scent from his nostrils: he stood and wheeled backwards, scrubbing his hands on his own trousers- until he tripped over Peran. He caught himself by instinct with another Implant, regaining his balance while a faint blue mist gathered around his body. He tapped into a half-dozen Gems at once, readying their abilities, body and mind taut with panic.

Oh, Moons, he swore as the room tilted around him. Aware of Peran's eyes on him, he staggered to the bed and sat, trying too late to quell his nausea: he bent, bedsheets gathered up in bloody fists, and vomited on the floor.

Why? Why couldn't he be rid of Overlord's influence on his body and mind?

Heaving and dry-retching long after his stomach had emptied, he gradually recomposed himself. Shaking and mortified by his lapse in control, he turned back to the others.

Vara didn't appear to have noticed Lou's fit: her attention remained wholly on Garmadon. He looked marginally better now, with his eyes closed and face slowly regaining normal color. Peran still knelt where Lou had left him nearby. The High General didn't seem to know where to let his eyes wander, and so kept them on the floor.

Taking a deep breath, Lou wiped his mouth on his sleeve and steeled himself for what he still had to do.

Lou tapped into the power of a Gem which, until this moment, he had not so much as allowed himself to consider using. Overlord's most powerful and most secret Implant, which he had used to reach into the minds of his victims and subtly bend their will to his; to read their innermost thoughts; to anticipate his victim's next move before they even made it.

The very same power, Lou knew, which Kai's Blade had possessed before it was broken during the fight that freed Lou, and the rest of the world, from Overlord's grasp.

"So you didn't kill him?" Lou asked Peran as he tapped into his mind, searching for any sign of falsehood.

"No," Peran said. And though it was the truth, Lou's probing revealed that assassination had been the High General's intent.

"You are a Mena-cursed fool," Lou said, "but now is not the time. Do you intend to harm anyone else in this Keep?"

"No." That was the truth, too.

"Then we are done here. The Middle Lord Rector just attempted to assassinate the Princess and I. It would seem that poison is the favored method of execution among aristocrats: easy, and relatively clean and hands-free. But I digress. We need to leave this place as quickly as possible. Will you help us?"

Peran looked up, and Lou didn't need the mind-reading Implant to know the High General was surprised.

"Don't think that this is over: I will have you tried for your crimes. But I know that you came to rescue Vara. That is what you told your comrades, at least, before you abandoned them at the inn." He paused. "No, there was one that followed you. A tragedy that he died on this fool's errand. Protecting you, no less."

Peran visibly stiffened.

"It's fortunate that I got here when I did," Lou said. "I dare not think of the implications of the King discovered dead with evidence of you alone at the scene. The Priests would have made him a martyr and then behind closed doors celebrated his death. Then, while the country was still in the throes of grief, I have no doubt that they would have assassinated Vara themselves and blame it on Cyrus Borg or the South. There would have been no chance whatsoever of stopping this civil war. I hope you realize this."

Peran nodded reluctantly.

"Okay. So, our next step is to make sure the King and his heir don't die. Can you help me?"

"I…I'll be honest," Peran said. "I don't know what I could do to help someone with your skills."

"I am but one man, and Implants can only carry me so far. I need someone to watch my back. Right now you are the best I've got. But know that if you so much as think about harming any of us, I will know before you draw your sword, and kill you without looking back to watch you fall."

The terror was as palpable in Peran's eyes as in his mind as he nodded again. Lou tightened his jaw.

Overlord had fed upon this crushing fear- thrived on it, even. Once free from this demon's grip Lou had sworn to never make anyone look into his eyes with fear again. Already he had failed a hundred times over, either by people recognizing what he had once been, or by realizing the immense, godlike power he now possessed.

Overlord may be gone. But the memory of him would remain with Lou forever.

"I will carry Garmadon," Lou said, standing tall despite the tremors in his soul and the scent of blood and fear thick in the air- funny how he could smell fear after his year in the West. Funny how fear made his victim's blood smell all the sweeter.

"You keep Vara with you," Lou said. "Together we-"

"What?" Vara cut him off. Lou didn't realize she'd been listening. Eyes swollen red with tears and alight with unexpected and fierce anger, she gestured at the High General. "Peran tried to kill Garmadon. He cannot come with us."

"Peran did not…" Lou hesitated, looking between the unconscious King and his daughter who knelt over him. The King's letter, addressed to his daughter by her true name, lay on the floor. Of course unread by her: she had no comprehension of this country's written language.

Garmadon, you son of a bitch, Lou thought. Who exactly did you think would have the strength of heart to read your letter to her?

"Peran did not do this, Vara," Lou said gently.

"Liar!"

"Vara, child, listen to me. Do you see any wounds on him? He was not cut by Peran's sword."

"Liar!" Vara pointed again at the High General, who was only just rising to his feet. "If he did not, then why did my father almost die?"

Her father. Before, he had always been either "Garmadon" or "the King."

"Vara…" Cursing Garmadon to the moon and back again, Lou bent down on one knee and took the letter. "I will not read this letter to you. Not today, not next week, and not in ten winters. But it was found in his jacket for you. His…farewell."

Vara frowned at the letter uncomprehendingly. She waited expectantly for Lou to explain himself.

Thanks to Overlord, Lou knew her well. Perhaps even better than she knew herself. He knew her most visceral fears, her deepest secrets, her darkest sins. In her case, the three were woven tightly together. Despite her childlike face and figure, she was far from a child. Far from naive, far from sheltered: she knew how this world worked, and she knew its horrors.

So why, Lou thought, couldn't he tell her the truth of this situation? He looked away, sighing deeply.

"…Lou?" Vara's voice shook. "Lou, what does the letter say?"

"It says goodbye," Peran finally answered. He picked up the sword which Lou had discarded and slid it into the sheath on his hip.

"What?" Vara looked at the letter. Her sudden understanding hurt Lou far deeper than her ignorance. "No. No, he-"

"He's alive, Vara," Lou cut her off. He wished he could give her the time she needed to process this, but they didn't have it: he heard alarmed voices down the hall behind him. Peran did, too, and made a motion for him to hurry. "We have to move before the Lord Rector comes back for us. He knows what I can do now, and he will not underestimate me again."

"No." Vara didn't seem to have heard him and touched Garmadon's sweaty brow. "No, no, no, he would not do that. He would not-"

"Hey." Lou reached for her hand. She jerked back, but he was faster and grabbed her. "Hey, Vara. I'm sorry, but we- look at me, Vara, and stop struggling!- we have to go now. The Guards- the bad ones- are coming. They're almost here. If we are still here when they arrive, they will kill us all."

"But Garmadon-"

"Will be dead as well if we don't do something!" Lou put his other hand on her cheek and tried futilely to wipe it dry. Hosts, how was he supposed to get through to her? "Listen to me! We need Grayrose. Is your Amulet awake?"

Vara stopped struggling. She glanced beyond Lou at the open bedroom door. The shouts grew closer. "Yes," she said.

"Good. I need you to concentrate, Vara. Use Grayrose to make us all invisible."

"Peran?"

"Peran too, yes. Can you do it?"

Another pause. Her eyes wavered as she nodded.

"Good girl." Lou wiped her cheeks again. "Good girl. Do it quickly!" He let Vara go and motioned for Peran to come closer. Tapping into a Gem to give him the needed strength, he heaved Garmadon over one shoulder and asked, "Do you need to touch us for it to work?"

"Um…I don't think so. But stay close." She took Lou's proffered free hand again- a soft red glow now emanated from her fingertips- and rose unsteadily.

The bedroom door flew open. Guards flooded in, weapons drawn, and-

-and did not see Lou or his companions.

Well done, Vara! Lou squeezed her hand reassuringly. He could still see her and Peran.

Peran reached for his sword, but Vara tugged at his sleeve, shaking her head. She motioned for him to be quiet. Moving softly on slippered feet, she led them away from the garden window- and the blood on the carpet, which quickly drew the Guards' attention. They gathered at the spot Lou and the others had occupied seconds prior.

Hugging the walls and furniture, Vara led them to the door. They slid out, Vara keeping a white-knuckled grip on it to make sure it didn't move as they exited. Once they were out of the room Vara rushed them down the hall and through the open door of the library. Lou saw the two dead Guards still lying on the carpet in their blood, eyes sightless and cold. He averted his gaze, as did Vara, but Peran stared.

"What next?" Lou whispered. He readjusted the King's dead weight.

"We are…what's the word…" Vara glanced around nervously. "The Guards could see us right now."

"We're visible again," Lou offered.

"Yes. Grayrose cannot do that for long. We can be seen right now; she will do it again when we leave, but we must be quick. Where are we going?"

"Out," Lou said. "We need to leave this place as quickly as possible. Make our way to…I don't know where. Perhaps North to Cyrus Borg." He sighed. "I wish we could help the South. But there's nothing we can do there, and it would only put us in greater danger."

"You have your Gems," Vara said.

"Even if I held all the Gems in the world, I would not be able to take on the entire North-Middle army by myself." Lou glanced again at the dead Guards. "And I think I've done enough killing."

"We will have time to decide later," Vara said. "But how do we leave the King's Keep?"

"I don't suppose you could sneak us through the front door?"

"No. Too many Guards would see the doors opening."

Lou looked at Peran. "What say you? How did you get in here?"

"Through the dungeon."

"Ah! I had forgotten about that secret passage. That's our ticket. Tell me when Grayrose is ready, Vara, and we'll make our way there. If I recall correctly, it's just downstairs past the kitchen."

"She is ready."

Lou peeked into the hall. Two Guards dashed out of the King's bedroom and toward the stairs- to warn the rest of the staff of their situation, no doubt- but blessedly did not think to glance through the open library door on their way.

Once the Guards were a safe distance ahead, Vara touched Lou's arm, and together with Peran, under Grayrose's protection, they crept out of the library.

You know you're losing it when you nitpick one paragraph for thirty minutes until you finally give up and say "Good enough."

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