Authors Note: Trigger warning for violence and non-explicit cannibalism.

He sat in his room, staring up at the ceiling with a numbed feeling deep in his chest that left his insides frozen.

The bandages around Maleko were fresh and smelled of blood. Stiches, he had to get more stitches when Stein brought him back to the academy. The knife had gone in too deep for his body to heal on its own, for it to close on its own. There were scrapes and cuts along his hands and feet and legs and arms that had to be bandaged, but not as serious.

He could have burned his injury shut if needed, too, if he hadn't been so scared. So confused.

The cuts weren't the only injuries he suffered. A myriad of fractures and breaks in his bones all over. His chest was practically one giant bruise, and it still hurt to breathe, he could barely breathe on his own.

They wanted to know what happened. No one said it, but it was obvious that they wanted to know what had happened in that warehouse. Soul couldn't tell them; he had been drugged and knocked out.

Soul could have been hurt, was hurt.

He stared at his hands, curled his fingers shut into a fist and then uncurled them to watch his bandaged palms.

No one blamed him for what happened, no one thought he did anything wrong. But they should know what happened, what he did. Maybe they were just pretending not to blame him, maybe they thought to themselves something worse, judged him, accused him.

Maleko closed his eyes and brought his hands up to take hold of his head.

Nothing made sense, and yet at the same time it made perfect sense. Everything those masked men had said, about Maleko, about Kai… about the DWMA… it made sense, it explained the weird way people got when he was around, some of the things people said.

It explained so much, but it explained things that he didn't realize he wanted so badly to not know.

He wished he could forget it. Wished he could just forget the entire past few days, go back to being ignorant, naïve. Go back to not knowing. It was so much better like that; he had been so much happier when he had been ignorant.

Taking a deep breath, Maleko closed his eyes and tried to forget.

He couldn't, he only became more aware. Every rustle of noise outside his window and doors. The sounds of shoes against the hard floor of the halls and the laughter and chatter of students outside. His own heartbeat, his own breathing. The many people, armed and ready to fight, ready for souls to gather, monsters to hunt.

David had always strived to join the DWMA because they were heroes who hunted monsters and other terrors. Mama had always hated it, hated the DWMA and yet she never told him why. It should have been clear.

No, it wouldn't have, not to him. Maleko was dumb, he was a worthless idiot who was blind to the most obvious things, trusting too easily, to eager to accept lies and manipulation if he thought he'd make a friend. How could he be so… so..

A knock on his door snapped him from his thoughts and Maleko found himself curling into a tighter ball on his bed, pressing his back against the wall and trying to make himself look smaller out of instincts.

He could smell them before they even reached his door, could hear their footsteps drawing closer to his room before stopping. Maleko didn't even look up as Stein and Spirit pushed his door open and came into his room.

"How are you feeling today, Maleko?" Spirit asked with a smile in his voice as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Maleko didn't look up as he felt his bed shift at the new weight or as he heard Stein saunter over to his window, the smoke of his cigarette lingering in the air as it curled out between the bars and through the open space.

Spirit waited a few moments as Maleko curled deeper into himself before reaching out to the child. "Careful, you might agitate your stitches moving like that."

Who cared?

Stein turned from the window to the bed, a faint creaking and clicking noise echoing in the quiet room as he turned the screw in his head. "We were hoping you might have remembered something about what happened in there," in the warehouse, he meant, even if he didn't say it.

Maleko frowned against his arms, and still he didn't look up. "Dunno," he answered with a bitter bite to his word. "Dunno… Soul an I…. walking… people grabbed me… weird drug…. Everything got fuzzy." He shook his head and closed his eyes tightly, trying to shake the sound of violent screams from his head.

The smell of burning flesh never bothered him before, so why did it now?

"We understand that," Spirit said with a nod, a gentle smile as he rested his hand on Maleko's small and narrow shoulder. "But it's been a few days, are you sure there was nothing else you might have remembered? Anything they said that might give us an idea of what we're dealing with?"

They wanted to know what the two had said. Probably so they could know what Maleko knew, what they told him, whether Maleko was still as harmless to them as before, or if he was now a threat.

"Dunno—I. Don't. Know," Maleko forced out, hugging himself even tighter than before as he let out a low growl. The lie felt bitter on his tongue. He wanted them to go away. They were making things worse, making the confusion worse. He didn't know if he could trust them, if they were his friends anymore, he couldn't be near them.

They hunt monsters.

David was right to always have Maleko always play the monster, it was what he was.

There was a long exhale as more smoke scented the air of his room. "We still don't know the exact contents of the drug they injected you with," he said, as if Maleko cared about any of that, "but we think it might have triggered something in you, akin to rabies, perhaps."

Rabies, he didn't know what that was. Maybe that was what had happened, but… no.

"If you feel any different, any signs of sickness, or if you start remembering anything, let us know right away," Stein continued, and Maleko could feel him staring at him. "We need to figure out who it was that attacked you and Soul, and why."

He shifted in his seat, but still didn't look at the two adult. "…kay," he mumbled into his arms.

There was nothing more that Maleko wanted to say to them, nothing at all. He just wanted the two of them to go away and leave him alone. That feeling must have been obvious enough because he heard Spirit let out a sigh and felt the bed shift once more as he got up from his seat.

The two lingered a few minutes longer than they should have before they bid their goodbyes, telling Maleko to rest, and to reiterate the importance of letting them know if he remembered anything that might be of use. Not that he was actually going to tell them anything, he remembered everything.

Their footsteps faded and the door shut. He stayed in his huddled position a few more minutes before untangling himself and crawling off his bed, wincing at the pain that shot up his side.

Why did they keep coming? Why couldn't they leave him alone? Why couldn't they stop pretending that they actually liked him, it'd be so much easier for him if they didn't keep pretending, didn't try to keep fooling him into thinking he mattered to them.

There were other scents outside in the hall, more footsteps. Maleko bit the inside of his cheek as he slowly made his way to the thick metal door and pressed his ear against it. Stein and Spirit had stopped a little ways away from his door so they weren't directly in front of it, and yet he could still make out the conversations.

"Is he okay?" Soul. His voice was hoarse and gravelly, not yet recovered from the warehouse, from all the smoke he had inhaled, proven by the violent coughing he had every few minutes. Stein said he would make a full recovery, he just had to rest was all.

There was a pause, and Maleko could imagine the adults were trying to think of how best to explain it to the others. "He's recovering, there aren't any infections to his stitches," Spirit began and then sighed. "He's a lot more temperamental. Before the kid would light up like a Christmas tree whenever we came to see him, would tell us everything and anything. But now he just seems so angry, so guarded."

There were a few murmurs and shuffling, words that Maleko couldn't make out. His ears twitched and he began gnawing his bottom lip as he waited.

"I can't really blame him for it," that was a voice that he didn't recognize, a girls. Was that one of Souls friends, the ones that they were supposed to meet before being kidnapped? "He's a little kid, and it was likely pretty traumatizing. Give him some space and some time."

"That would work, Liz, except we may not have a lot of time to work with," another new voice, a boy. If that was the supposed 'Liz', then Maleko surmised that this one was 'Kid'. "It's unlikely the two were on their own, there's probably a group, and they're working on something if those vials were anything to go by."

"It'd be nice if we can get Maleko to start talking, and soon," Stein paused and Maleko didn't need to see it or to smell it that it was a drag from his cigarette. "He's not as good a liar as he thinks he is."

So Stein knew that Maleko was lying. That wasn't as big a surprise as it should have been. Stein was smart, even Maleko knew that, and he didn't have much experience lying in the first place, never saw a reason for it until now. No wonder the man saw through him like he was made of glass.

"We shouldn't push him too talk when he's not ready," that was Maka, concerned. (Stop it. Don't deserve it. Stop pretending.) Maleko clenched his jaw and brought his hands up to his head, holding it tight, doing his best not to let out a sound as his emotions began spiraling. "Lying or not, he's still just a kid."

They didn't know just how badly Maleko wanted to go out there and show him how he wasn't 'just a kid'. He was more than a kid, worse than one, and it wouldn't be hard for him to show them that, to remind them that he was more than a kid.

He was a sorcerer.

He was their enemy.

Just acknowledging it, recognizing himself for what he was, what they were, it hurt. It made his chest clench and his eyes burn with tears he refused to shed. Had everything just been a game? Had they just been entertaining his naivete, playing along with his assumptions? Pretending to care, pretending to be his friends?

Most certainly. After all, why would they actually care about him? He was like a baby lion, cute and cuddly for now, but once he got older he'd be big, ferocious, dangerous. He'd be a threat. You can't make a lion a pet, you can't make a sorcerer one either, all you can do is have fun while they're harmless and get rid of them when they become a problem.

Besides, sooner or later they were going to need to kill him for his soul, how else were they going to make stronger weapons?

Maleko choked back a whimper as he turned around and slid down to the floor with his back pressed to the door, no longer listening to the faint conversation outside. Words could not express how badly he wanted to go back to the days where he didn't know, to the days of innocent ignorance. He hated not knowing things, hated feeling dumb, feeling stupid compared to others with what he knew and didn't, but he'd give anything to just not know this one truth.

He didn't tell the adults what happened, told them that he couldn't remember. Blacked out because of the stuff they put in him; his memory was too foggy to put together details. It was a lie, he remembered everything. Sure, some bits were fuzzy, but he knew what happened in that warehouse, Maleko knew exactly what happened and what he did in there, and it was something he would keep quiet about until the day he died.

Because if he told any of them, then that day would come far too soon.

Closing his eyes, keeping them shut tight against the dim lighting of his cell like room, Maleko huddled into a tight ball there on the floor against his door. Even with his eyes shut he could see the memory as though he was still there, could still smell the scents of blood and smoke, of charred flesh, could hear the roars of fires and screams.

It was his own Hell.

Pain, everything hurt.

The masked man continued to kick him, to stomp at him, to hurt him. Soul couldn't do anything to help, couldn't hear him anymore, couldn't move anymore. The weapon just laid on the cold floor silent and motionless. And yet Maleko wanted so badly for the older teen to get up and stop all of this, to save him.

No one was going to save Maleko.

It was hard to breathe, painful to do so. Maleko closed his eyes as if it would make it all stop and knew that it wouldn't. No one was going to come and save him, he had to save himself, that was all there was to it.

It was black and white, either Maleko fight to survive, or he dies. Survival. That's all that matters. The only thing that ever matters.

He survived the jungle, he survived attacks from beasts, from hunger, from nature. He survived years alone in the jungle, this was nothing, just another thing for him to overpower and subdue, to survive.

Gritting his teeth, Maleko prepared himself for the next kick and could feel his ribs cracking as the masked mans foot hit him in the chest once again. Air rushed out of his lung as did a choking cough, his eyes burned and tears were streaming down his face. Everything hurt.

He could feel the fire within him growing hotter and hotter, burning him from the inside.

The masked man raised his foot to kick him once more, and Maleko took in as deep a breath as his lungs allowed, feeling the fire within him shifting, feeling it rise up in his body, gathering and burning. He breathed in, and when he breathed out, it wasn't air that he aimed at the man above him.

A stream of fire came from his mouth, like a flamethrower, it blew out at the man. The masked figure reeled back, screeching in pain as he fell to the ground, clutching his arm as the sleeve burned away.

He rolled on the ground to put out the fire as Maleko felt a growl rising in the back of his throat, his mind starting to cloud over with aggression and anger. Maleko was fire, he was fire and he would burn everyone here until he was safe again.

His body was burning as he forced himself onto his knees, his magic coursing through his every cell, gathering within and sizzling onto the surface. He felt the flames dancing on his wrists and arms, climbing up to his elbows, on his feet to his knees, smelled the burning hemp as the charred rope fell to the concrete beneath him.

Free, he was free.

The masked man had managed to get the fire on his arm put out and was being helped up to his feet by the lumbering giant. His arm reeked of burned meat. Maleko bared his teeth at them as he pushed himself onto his feet, hunched over and growling.

"Okay, not a weapon, he's not a weapon," there was a frantic tone to the masked mans voice. Not so tough now that his punching bag wasn't tied up and helpless anymore, now was he?

He felt his nails grow, shifting into claws, they scrapped loudly against the stone floors as he took a step towards the two, and the fire continued to climb over his body until he was completely engulfed in fire. It didn't matter if his clothes were burning away, they would have only gotten in the way regardless. What use were clothes for fire—for destruction incarnate?

"What's a sorcerer doing with the academy?" the smaller masked man yelled, pushing back against the giant as he backed away from Maleko. The boy couldn't see his face through the mask, but he could smell their fear—and they were terrified. He relished it.

With a snarl, Maleko lunged at them, claws outstretched. His target was the thin one, the one who had caused him the most pain, but the man was quicker than he expected. He scrambled out of the way, hitting the ground painfully right as Maleko came at them, and was shielded by the giant who stepped between them.

Maleko's claws dug deep into the large mans forearm, tearing into muscle and fat, and hanging suspended in the air, clinging to his arm, before he was thrown to the side by the giant. The impact onto the concrete floor hurt, his bones were already broken as it were, and his head spun for a moment before Maleko forced himself back onto his feet.

Still growling, still a living fire, Maleko crept about on all fours, circling the two slowly, searching for a spot to pounce, to lunge.

The thinner one was trying to stay as far from Maleko as he could, using the giant, now bleeding, as a meat shield. His voice quivered when he spoke again, "I… I know who you are," he said, a nervous laugh, the kind of laugh of someone who knew they were done, that they were dead. "You're… you're Maleko! Maleko Palakiko—our Lady—Kai's kid!"

At that, Maleko paused. They knew his name… they knew his mama.

The thinner man was still laughing in nervous delight. "You're alive? Oh Goddess, you're alive, our Lady will be so happy when we bring you back to her," he faltered, bringing a hand to his masked face, "Oh fuck… oh shit, shit, shit! You're Maleko and I—oh fuck, no, no, no, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Arthur, we just drugged Maleko fucking Palakiko, you just beat the shit out of him," the giant rumbled, the scent of fear only grew worse, it was pure terror now. "Not even death would be a deserving enough punishment for this, if our Lady finds out," he cut himself off.

What was all this 'our Lady' crap? They got Maleko's attention by knowing his name, by talking about Kai, but now they were just getting on his nerves with all these nonsense garbage. He growled to make his point be known, drawing closer to the two, getting their attention once more.

The thinner man—Arthur, apparently—faltered and raised his hands up in defense, "Look—my lord—" 'my lord' what even were these two talking about anymore? What the hell was a Lord? "I didn't' mean to—I didn't know that it was you, I swear! Please, sir, I didn't know, forgive me, I beg you," he slowly got on his knees, keeping his hands held up in the air, a motion mirrored by the giant.

"Why are you," The giant rumbled, suddenly choosing to be talkative apparently, "why are you with him," he nodded to Soul. "The academy, DWMA? Why are you with the False Gods followers? I don't understand."

Teeth still bared, Maleko drew closer, the flames were starting to spread through the warehouse, the heat rising. "What," he growled, his voice rough, inhuman, "you mean?" They needed to start making sense now, his patience was running thin.

Arthur was quick to volunteer and continue his role as the speaker for the two, "You're with the DWMA, the False God, but you're our Lady's, the True Gods son, it doesn't make sense," he said, as if that explained anything, when it explained absolutely nothing. Maybe he understood that because moments later, Arthur was talking again. "You're a sorcerer, my lord, the sworn enemy of the DWMA. They hunt your kind, devour your souls to strengthen their army, even as we speak, they're hunting your mother, why would you ally yourselves with such heretics?"

Maleko stopped.

Sworn enemy… hunted… what?

"No!" his confusion turned to anger as he lunged at Arthur, digging his claws into the mans shoulders as he stood up, now towering over the kneeling man. "They friends! They wo—woud—wouldn't!" They promised to help him find Kai, not hunt her down!

This man was lying, of course he was lying, he'd already beaten Maleko, so why wouldn't he try to deceive him as well? Well, pain was a surefire way to get this man to start being honest with Maleko.

"It's the truth!" Arthur screeched as Maleko twisted his claws deeper into him. "The DWMA hunt your kind, have for centuries! The academy trains children to hunt and kill sorcerers and witches, they use your souls to create Death Scythes, weapons for the False God! Gyah!" Maleko twisted hard again, felt his claws scrape against bone.

Try again, Maleko wanted to spit at him, but breathing was hard and talking was harder. So he would let his actions speak for him.

And he wouldn't lie, but hearing Arthur screaming in pain—it was satisfying. After all the pain he had to endure at this mans hands, it was enjoyable to hear him in just as much, if not more, agony.

"Please, my lord, ask anyone and they will tell you the same; the DWMA hunts your kind," Arthur sobbed as Maleko dragged his claws out, along with bits of flesh and meat off of Arthurs body. His fingertips glistened with blood.

He continued to let out a low growl, taking a step back to stare down at the two as his fires continue to grow, smoke filling the confined warehouse.

Try as he might… their claims were not as impossible as he wanted to believe. They sounded feasible; they explained more things than he wanted them to.

Why mama always seemed so annoyed, so angry, whenever David and Maleko brought up the academy, how she always tried to steer the conversation somewhere else or dissuade Maleko when he expressed his interest in enrolling with him. How Kim seemed so anxious when they crossed paths, so insistent that they pretend they had never met. She didn't want him to expose her as a witch.

In the halls of the DWMA, people were wary around him, they always watched him with suspicion. Maleko had assumed it was because he was an outsider, but maybe that caution was because of something more.

Maybe it really was because he was a sorcerer, they were anticipating having to fight him, having to kill him.

He didn't want to believe it.

"We're telling the truth, my lord," the giant insisted. "Please, my lord, let us explain ourselves, we work for your mother—" Maleko snarled at them in response and the giant flinched back against the bared teeth and dancing flames. "We serve your mother, the true God of this world, we are her Acolytes. I swear on my own soul that had we known who you were, we would never have done what we did."

"I swear to you that we'll personally escort you to your mother—we can bring in other Acolytes to do so if you don't want us!" Arthur added rapidly.

They could… they could take him back to mama? The DWMA had promised to find her for him, but if what they said was true, about the hunting and the enemies, then they might not even bring her back to him alive. But… but these two people were bad people! They kidnapped him and Soul, attacked them, hurt them!

He couldn't trust them.

Even if what everything they said was true, there was no way that Maleko could ever trust them, not to get him back to Kai, not for anything. They were bad people, evil people. He had to get rid of them, before they hurt him again, before these two hurt someone else. Nothing else mattered. They hurt him, and so they had to die.

He sprung at them, fire and claws digging into Arthur's flesh as Maleko knocked him to the ground. He didn't stop there, with snarls and roars as he clawed at him, instead he dipped his head down and dug his teeth into the skin between the shoulder and neck and viciously tore himself back, tearing out a chunk of flesh and fabric with it.

Teeth and claws tore apart the skin and meat like he would do for any rabbit or the occasional buffalo he caught. Blood dripped down his chin as he swallowed the bits of meat he tore out, the screams a lullaby for his ears.

What he didn't tear off Arthur, he burned with his own touch as the fire engulfing Maleko grew and spread. By this point, the warehouse was burning, the thick smoke filling the building making everyone but Maleko's eyes water and burn. They couldn't stay in here, their lungs couldn't breathe the thick smoke, their eyes couldn't see in it. But Maleko could, he could breathe it and he could see past it without issues.

It put him at an advantage as he attacked.

(Kill) the voice in his head urged, (Kill them) they attacked him, they had to die. Die for what they did.

He dug his claws in deeper, digging them into Arthurs stomach and tearing it wide open, he breathed fire into the wounds he made, tore out flesh with his mouth. All the while, Arthur screamed and tried to push Maleko off him, but couldn't. Every time the giant tried to help, Maleko burned even hotter, keeping him from being able to even touch the boy, let alone drag him off of Arthur.

Eventually, the man beneath Maleko stopped squirming, stopped screaming. As Maleko withdrew his fangs from his opened throat, the man who had beaten him was motionless. Maleko growled, and dragged his claws across Arthurs mask, cracking through the plastic and glass, breaking part of it, burning and melting other parts. His face was dripping with blood that boiled under the flames cloaking him, his mouth tasted of meat and copper.

"Shit, fucking shit," the giant breathed, trying to get away from Maleko, but fires had spread through their prison, blocking his exits with hot flames. The smoke was so thick, so burning. But Maleko found safety in the familiarity of this burning hellscape. This was his domain, his kingdom to rule.

The other man tried to flee, but Maleko leapt onto him and like with Arthur, he began tearing the man apart, biting and clawing until the giant would be unrecognizable. He felt something sharp go into his side, was punched across the face, had his hair almost ripped from his scalp by how hard the man beneath him fought, but nothing would stop Maleko.

Blood pooled on the ground beneath the giant, his entrails were dragged out when Maleko tore him open, ribs were broken off. Maleko didn't stop until the thing beneath him wasn't a large person, but a bloodied mess of meat and bones and he began to feast on the meat. Tore the flesh apart-his face soaked in blood. When he had reached the heart, Maleko paused, reaching for it, feeling an instinctual wanting, a want to have, to take, to-

(Not now.)

His head throbbed, it felt like another's hand was over his, pulling it away from the bloodied heart. The fog over him was suffocating.

Tearing his hand free from the imaginary hold, Maleko stepped away from the corpses, crouched on his hind legs he raised his heat to the smoke filled ceiling and let in a deep breath. He howled into the flames and smoke, to the sky above, a wolf cry only he would hear. It didn't matter if no one cried back, this was for him, this was Maleko cementing himself as Fire.

He was cloaked in flames, taking shape around him in a rough outline, a tail swished through the air behind him as he howled to the sky.

The entire room was sweltering hot as the fires danced with him, his claws scrapped the hard ground, leaving deep groves as he sprung from the floor onto a wooden box. The smell of burning flesh filled the air and mixed with the smoke, leaving his mouth watering.

There was enough meat here to last him for full moons worth of time, if he kept it right. There were no predators to rival here, to fight for territory and prey with. The fires would keep him warm; the meat would keep him fed.

Maleko howled once more. However, this time his howl was returned. A low rumble that grew louder and higher in pitch, closer.

His ears twitched as the siren wailed outside, joined by more and more. The fog in his mind slowly lifted, the blood lust fading as he listened. Sirens… the red trucks that deal with fires… police. People were coming.

He hesitated and looked to the bodies, to Soul off to the side, still unconscious, safe and ignorant of what happened. Maleko… Maleko would get in trouble, they wouldn't approve of what he did here, would they. No, they would hate what he did.

Swallowing hard, Maleko jumped off his perch and landed on the burning ground, however his knees buckled under him as pain shot up along his side, worst than the ribs beneath his skin. For the first time since his kills, he looked at himself through the flames, at the small knife driven right under his ribcage.

What was that phrase those men enjoyed using? Shit? Well… right now shit seemed appropriate to use right now.

It hurt, immensely so. But he had to get out of here and fast. Couldn't be caught here or he'd get in trouble.

The flames covering Maleko died down and he wobbled towards the back door of the warehouse, limping and gasping for breath. Now that the adrenaline had faded, it hurt to move, to breathe. How was he going to get away in time?

Closing his eyes, Maleko pushed through the flames.

He did manage to get away from the warehouse, with much difficulty. He had tried to make his way to the school but couldn't. Eventually he was found by Stein and brought back, patched up, and now here he was to wallow in doubt, mistrust, and confusion.

Maleko groaned, coughing a little at the way his breath of air put pressure on his damaged ribs.

The familiar sound of wings through the air was the only sign he had when Taka landed between the bars of his window. The bird watched him, looking down on him from above as his feathers ruffled. There was no question that he knew what happened, Maleko didn't even need to ask. That wasn't what he wanted to ask, anyways.

"Taka," he mumbled, his voice felt hoarse. "This place… they kill… my kind?" it was hard to get the words out, harder than usual because the damage that had been done to him, but he managed.

There was a long pause as Taka stared down at him, a pause that Maleko didn't want. He looked up at the bird, glaring up at him with his bloodshot eyes. "Yes. Witches in particular, since they are far more common than sorcerers, but the DWMA does hunt witches, their souls are required as the final step in creating a Death Scythe."

So they weren't lying about that at least. Didn't mean Maleko liked them or regretted what he did.

"Mama. Acolytes," Maleko growled.

"They're a cult, mostly humans, who've worshiped her for hundreds of years. She's reinstated herself as their leader after you came into DWMA custody," Taka answered and shifted on his perch. "I think she means to use them as an army to get you back."

Maleko growled and buried his head between his knees.

So the two were telling the truth, about this school and it's history with his people, about his mother. If that was the case, then he really couldn't trust the school, could he? Even now he had been hoping that Taka would tell him otherwise, that the two masked men were lying to him, that he could still trust the friends he made here.

But if that was the case, then they weren't really friends, were they? They were just using Maleko, were using him to get to Kai, were using him to get his trust so they could have his soul. They didn't really care about him, did they?

"What," Maleko wanted to cry, but he couldn't. He had to be strong. "What… do I do?"

What was he supposed to do? He was a mouse in a snake nest. He wasn't safe here, not anymore. Who knew how much longer they were going to trust him, how much longer until he was deemed to dangerous and had to be disposed of? And mama, he had to keep her safe, had to find her and tell her that the academy is looking for her.

"You can't stay here," Taka said.