Author's Note: Not proofread, so if there are any glaring problems, go yell at me. Or rather, don't, because I have enough crap in my life. School is kicking my ass, along with my mother in the hospital, and it's a strain to do everything I need to get done and have time for myself.

Whining over. I hope you enjoy the chapter. My mind is in a dark, twisted place. Also, tell me if the rating needs to be upped now…-_-

Chapter Twenty-Three: Forged

The being within him realized if matters weren't taken into its own hands, it might be annoyed to death. The ritual cleansing chipped away at it, but there was so much of it and so little of the water's actual effects. Its host proved putrescent too, grousing about a family and a relationship it had botched. The being only cared so long as it could manipulate him. To Cosmo's misfortune…and to the darkness's benefit, it knew how to recede until it appeared gone. Right now, that seemed its only option. Fairy World would only cease its ridiculous hunt when they thought they had succeeded…and the being had other desires, better uses of its time than being dunked in the magical equivalent of holy water.

If it could convince Cosmo to return to the darkness's source and undo what Fairy World had done so many years ago, everything would be unleashed. The half-breed's power would be restored to its rightful place, faeries would no longer rely solely upon the misbegotten powers of human ramblings, and then…his brethren could come out to play. They had waited so very long and were so very patient. The being couldn't deny them their feast.

For what were Fairy World and the light but succor for the true darkness within?

The world around her was on fire. Everywhere Wanda turned, flames erupted and scorched her surroundings. Towering infernos threatened her path across to freedom and smoke irritated her lungs, nostrils, and seemed to claw itself within her. Soot covered her and she coughed, wiping her face and adding more ash to the equation. The cough started a wracking fit and she stared around her. This was what she was supposed to use the dark magic to cure? It seemed more like this would be a side effect of using dark magic, not banishing the light.

Her legs quivered. She didn't know how much damage Doombringer had done when she had slapped her, although it felt considerable. It was hard to think with the flames around her, fire crackling, smoke filling the air, and her cheek throbbing. She wasn't sure she'd be able to conjure up a fire truck even with her wand in this circumstance, let alone delve within her and master the water element. Doombringer certainly had a knack for asking the impossible.

Then again…Remy had accomplished the impossible. And Remy was a human child, not ordinarily gifted with magic. Frowning, she thought of water, cool and refreshing. Unfortunately, the instant she did, the fire intruded on her concentration.

"Gimme a break!" she snapped. "How the heck do you expect me to conjure up water when-" she started coughing and couldn't stop. She looked up in the middle of her fit. There was an air duct above her…an air duct. Perhaps Doombringer didn't want her to conjure water after all.

Yet the thought of shifting into another creature terrified her almost more than lingering here, certain to burn to death. The last time Wanda had changed into an animal without her wand, it felt like her body was on fire to begin with. They weren't meant to use magic without their wands. That was why even faerie babies had magical pacifiers. Wanda shuddered and the flames swept in toward her. Judging by how quickly the fire was moving (but not scaling any higher), if she didn't change soon…she'd be one charbroiled faerie godparent.

The first thing popped into her mind was a hawk and, desperate, she focused on it. She discarded her current form and channeled her energy into being the hawk, seeing the hawk's feathers, its beak, feeling talons instead of toes and the slight weight it had compared to her normal guise. Her eyesight would diminish, discerning movement instead of colors and brilliant hues, and her teeth would vanish, leaving only a tongue and a sharp beak. At the end of her arms would be wings instead of on her back and she would have a tail…

She shot upward, feeling her bones melt away and reconfigure themselves. Darkness clouded her vision for a moment and she ignored it, ignored the unsettling weight upon her chest. She crashed into the air vent and hit the metal siding. Groaning, she straightened up…and air vent system activated, blowing her backward.

"Oh, come on!" she snapped.

Winds buffeted her and she thought of something heavy enough to stay in place without crashing to the floor. Nothing animal sprang to mind, although a block might stand a chance. But faeries couldn't shift into inanimate objects without a wand…couldn't…

Wanda chanced a look behind her and screamed. The fan was blowing her back toward a chute smelling unpleasantly like an incinerator. Panicking now, her thoughts a muddled mess, she scraped her talons against the vent's sides and imagined the heaviest animal she could think of. It didn't quite fit inside the chute and she crashed, changing in mid air into an elephant. The fall took so little time, considering how tall she'd made herself, and she landed on her knees.

The floor caved and she seemed to fall forever, although in reality it was probably only a few seconds. Screeching, she shifted again, back into the bird, and every change drew more energy than she thought possible. Struggling to stay aloft, she sought a safe haven in the room, which now lacked a floor entirely. She fought her way up and scanned the room. There was nothing. She wasn't going to be able to keep this form forever and once her wings tired…she'd drop back into the abyss.

((COSMO!)) she screamed, forgetting he couldn't hear her and she didn't know where he was. ((Help!))

Her wings flapped desperately and she realized in a few seconds it was hopeless. She plummeted through the hole in the floor.

Spinning in a whirling dervish, she fell through the darkness and was barely aware when she hit something soft and pliable. Panting, her chest constricted and feeling like her body was on fire, she stared helplessly above. She was wrapped in a cocoon and had no strength left to protest. Damn it, this wasn't fair. Doombringer hadn't restored her energy before setting her up for another trial. The only way to ensure she didn't end up spent was to tap into the primordial power and she couldn't do that. To do that would be irrevocable…

Minutes passed and she expected Doombringer to appear and taunt her. Nothing happened. Wanda rolled her head and sighed, feeling completely lost without Cosmo. The last time she had shifted without her wand, it had been because of Cosmo, in an effort to fight her way back to him. This separation was like losing a limb.

More time elapsed and she thought, perhaps belatedly, Doombringer might have several traps going at once. She moaned and imagined herself as a faerie again. Other than the excruciating burning sensation making her feel like she'd dashed into an open flame, nothing happened.

Faerie godparents, as a rule, did not curse. They had their charges to think of, after all.

That was why Wanda was exceedingly grateful no one could hear her swear a blue streak.

The cell vanished before his very eyes. It was replaced by the tropics, with mosquitoes buzzing by his ears and the heat somewhere in the nineties. Timmy's mouth dried out and he looked, by instinct, for his godparents. He was alone. He didn't even have his silly pink hat. In fact, he didn't have a sword, as he might have expected from his recent adventures in one of Jorgen's storybooks as Timmy the Barbarian.

"What gives?" he said. "Am I in one of Jorgen's stupid stories or not?"

There was no answer. Timmy waited a second and heard nothing, which meant he wasn't. Jorgen wouldn't have hesitated to announce himself and he never would have separated him from Cosmo and Wanda. For that matter, since Tootie was currently embroiled in the fiasco, she'd probably have been nearby too. Timmy's unease mounted. There was something very fishy going on.

"Survive."

Timmy swallowed, feeling a large lump in his throat. To his right, shimmering like a mirage, was a man with shoulder length brown hair. His piercing dark blue eyes hooked onto Timmy and he had a scar along his right cheek running from his eye to his mouth. He was wearing camouflage equipment and when his gaze landed upon Timmy, he smirked. His head was shaped rather familiarly, although Timmy couldn't place it.

"You're not my usual target," he said. "But the game is the same."

"Who the heck are you?" Timmy snapped.

The man threw something at him. Timmy caught it in his gut and unwrapped the paper around it. It was a computer pad, like the one he'd seen A.J. use. On it were pictures of his parents and he looked at the man for further explanation. The man was gone, like he had never been there. Instead, water dripped off leaves and mosquitoes continued to buzz. A bird called from an indeterminate distance.

The machine pinged and he looked down. The image had changed. Instead of his parents, hale and hearty, the screen displayed his parents chained to a wall on what looked like a live video feed. Someone in a hooded cloak was slicing off bits of skin while someone else held a match to the open wound. His parents screamed, high pitched and sounding more like animals than humans. Timmy's heart pounded and caught in his throat.

"Cosmo? Wanda?" he whimpered. There was no answer, much like Jorgen hadn't answered him earlier. Tears formed and he quivered.

"C'mon," he pleaded. "I can't do this on my own. I don't know where you went, random guy…but I need your help. I need someone's help."

The image changed again and the hooded figure looked straight into the camera.

"I know you have magic, faerie favoured," the figure hissed. "You will use it to free your parents and I will test your skills. If you cannot rescue them…"

The man sliced off part of his mother's cheek and Timmy thought he might be sick.

"Your godparents can't help you," he hissed. "No one can help you. Can you help yourself?"

Timmy retched and his words choked in his throat. What did they think he was? A miracle worker? He was only a ten-year-old kid. He couldn't save his parents without Cosmo and Wanda or any weapons. He didn't even know where they were…

The screen changed again, to reveal a map.

"Come along, Timmy Turner. Tempus fugit."

Tootie was no longer in the cell either. Instead, she stared at flashing red and blue lights. An ambulance was in front of her house and EMTs were walking a covered figure out on a stretcher. Doidle sat at Tootie's feet and whined. She stared at him, stunned, and then at a police officer walking toward her. Her body felt stiff, for some odd reason, and her movements, like her brain, were jerky and uncoordinated.

"You're the one who called 911?" the officer asked her. Tootie blinked. Her mouth had dried out and her eyes were gritty.

"Were you the one who called 911?" the office said. His voice was rough and Tootie focused on his sharp, penetrating gaze. He had dark blue eyes, almost black in the moonlight, and his body was lithe, not muscular, with a scar along his face from his eye to his mouth. He almost reminded Tootie of the Joker and she bit back a hysterical laugh. Why so serious?

"Ma'am, we're going to have to take you in for questioning," the officer said and Tootie blinked again.

"Why?" she said faintly.

"You're covered in blood," he said and she looked down. Her clothing was stiff, clinging to her, and she tasted blood on her tongue now that she thought about it.

"And the EMTs' preliminary report is that the victim bled to death."

"Who's the victim?" Tootie said, barely audible.

"You don't already know?" he said, giving her a strange look. "It's your sister, Vicky. You were the first one on the scene, the person who called 911, and there's been no one else in the area for the last few hours."

"I don't understand…"

The officer lifted her right hand. It was wrapped tightly around a butcher knife, dripping with blood.

"You're coming downtown," he said. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

"Where's Timmy?" she murmured. "Wasn't I…somewhere else…"

"You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you."

Stunned, she swayed back and forth. "Timmy? Cosmo? Wanda? What's going on?"

The officer spun her around and locked the handcuffs on her wrists. She barely felt it. Instead, she stared at the ambulance. Why would they call an ambulance if Vicky was already dead? How could Vicky be dead? How could she have…she didn't remember…wasn't she supposed to be elsewhere?

The officer jerked her toward the car. His name, she saw, was Isaac Provanzano.