(Prologue: Headmaster Hand)

Holding onto my humanity is becoming an art.

We don't get to see any other inmates. Instead, we're confined to the same space, with the same windows and the same brown slop to eat for dinner. Duster and Pusher aren't particularly interesting company, and I can tune out their rambles just fine, but that leaves me with nothing. I find myself staring at the wall for hours at a time.

Everything has slowed down. My head aches, but it's nothing to do with a lack of water. My vision is constantly tinted red, but I'm not bleeding.

I don't understand it.

"You need sleep, m'chap," Duster says whenever I open my mouth. "It's not good for you t' be working."

"I'm fine," I lie.

"The others will get us out," he says. "They're working on it."

I always nod when he says this, but I don't believe him. The longer they're away, the easier it is to doubt. The gaps between their visits are getting wider.

"I think you should rest," Duster says gently.

Ignore him, whispers the voice in my mind. Punish him. Stab him dead and let him bleed.

The image is disturbing. The voice is a recent apprearance, and it's been easy enough to ignore for now, but it doesn't seem to be going away. With my senses muddying and my waking hours reduced, it's hard to know for how long I'll be able to resist it.

"Come on," Duster says more insistently, leading me towards the makeshift bed. I mechanically obey, feeling utterly miserable and utterly useless. I can't sleep. I don't want to enter that world again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Pusher sneaking another look at the Psychic Stone. He's going to steal it at some point, I know it, but when he does, I'll be ready.

You'll bludgeon him, says the voice. Smash him with a crowbar. Smashy, smashy, smashy.

Yes... ...No. No! Of course not.

"There we go," Duster says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I can't.

"You'll be okay in the morning."

But the dream world is a minefield, full of ravens and shattered glass. I can't go back there. I'm not ready to face those horrors, because each time might be my last. Each time I wake up, it's that little bit worse.

Sound rushes through my mind. The room is dizzy and bright, and I force my eyes to close. Now the real world is horrendous, evil, and full of things that need to be destroyed. I need to escape it before everything gets worse.

Duster's right, I need to sleep. It's time.

I close my eyes.

This is the fine art of letting go.

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~~o00o~~

Chapter 59: The Fine Art of Letting Go

(Ness)

~~o00o~~

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When we return to our bedroom, the quiet is almost suffocating.

Lucas stands in the middle of the room, his arms spread out in a T while I pluck the thorns from his skin. Falling into that hedge was painful for both of us, and whenever I spot a new bristle, he winces with discontent. Neither of us speak as I carry out the procedure, because our minds are too busy. They're working on overdrive to understand what we've just seen.

I'm next to receive the treatment. I'm less prickly, but Lucas still plucks the thorns hard and fast, leaving little spots of red in their wake. Nothing can be done about the cuts and grazes covering our bodies. Nothing can be done about Villager, lying shattered in the medical ward.

I suppose we have to be grateful. At least he's alive. If Villager hadn't boosted us over the fence, that could've been me, torn apart and cornered by the Future Humans. They'd been vicious, more so than I've ever seen them, and it was pure luck that Ninten got there on time. One PK Thunder had immobilised them all. That's something we need to remember.

"I'm sorry about Ninten," Lucas says, pulling out a particularly long spine from my shoulder. I wince, shaking off the pain, and Lucas puts the bastard on the windowsill. "I was wrong about him. He's a good guy, you were right. I was - I don't know. Jealous?"

"Yeah," I say. "Just a little bit."

"Sorry." Lucas hangs his head, moving behind me to get a thorn from my back. "I think I was right to be cautious, though. He could've been anyone."

"Maybe," I say, shrugging. "Perhaps you need more faith in my amazing ability to pick good friends."

Lucas smiles, and Claus laughs from across the room.

Since meeting Nichol and Richie, Claus seems to have been in higher spirits. He's been smilier, making good progress on his vocabulary — he knows the difference between your and you're now, which is more than can be said for Bowser or Link. Secretly, I'm a little proud, and I'm especially happy for Lucas. At least one of his brothers is doing well.

"We'll have to deal with Saul tomorrow," I remember, thinking of the greasy man just two doors down. "He was the one painting the graffiti."

Lucas groans. "I knew it. I knew he was sneaking out."

"He didn't seem like the sort of guy to obey orders," I reason. "Anyway, I'm more offended that Marth thought he was me. I wouldn't dream of wearing sunglasses indoors."

"No, instead you wear that stupid cap," Lucas smirks, swiping it from my head. He places it onto Claus, who beams with delight.

I gasp. "My cap is not stupid, thank you very much! It's a wonderful fashion accessory."

"Sure," Lucas says. "Keep believing that."

"I will! It's fabulous."

Lucas rolls his eyes before letting out a sizable yawn. I pat him on the back, and he softens.

"Bedtime, I think. It's going to be a big day tomorrow."

"You make it sound like my birthday," I joke, but I suddenly feel nauseous. Porky's Prom will no doubt lead to chaos. The clue we received from the station — the second train is mine — means nothing. It doesn't explain a single thing that's going on.

"Perhaps it is your birthday?" Lucas says innocently. I swat him.

"You know when my birthday is, you goof. At least, you'd better. Do you?"

"Sometime in November, I think. Or is it March?"

"Hey!"

"Told you I knew it," Lucas says, smiling, but his expression quickly becomes purposeful. "Get your pyjamas on, Ness. We'll need to be wide awake tomorrow."

"Alright," I say, and I turn around.

We change in silence. Even as I do so, I can feel the easy mood slowly dissipating from the room. Claus has the decency to look away, and as I pull on my shorts, I wonder if this is the last time we'll do this.

Once we're done, I turn, and Lucas pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. "Bed, then."

"Yeah," I agree, swallowing down the lump that rises in my throat. "Bed."

Claus settles down under his covers, and Lucas starts to extinguish the gas lamps. I move to the window, intending to shut the curtains, but I'm distracted by the vast sky outside.

It's mournful, in a way. The night is huge, so much bigger than me, blanketing the world and everything in it. It makes me feel small, our window just another pinprick of light. There are no stars in view, only the slightest slice of moon that illuminates the silvery raindrops and the gathering rooks. They call, their cries tearing like warnings through the forest.

Ever since finding the old passageways, nighttime has filled me with a cold sense of dread. Everything I see is a harbinger of something awful. Something has scared the rooks, they tear from their branches, black shadows against grey clouds, and I feel my breathing quickening. Evil is amongst us, in the forest and the room. The light is the only thing keeping it away.

I whirl around. I reach out, but I'm too slow. Lucas extinguishes the final lamp.

We're plunged into darkness.

For a moment, I stumble, certain I'm somewhere else. My heart thumps, but then Lucas's hand ghosts over mine, and he draws the curtains shut.

"I'm here," he says, impossibly small. "It's okay."

But it's not okay. I look at him, or what I can see of him, silhouetted by the residual sparks of light twinkling under the doorframe. He pulls me near, and I close my eyes. Something howls. Something is in the air, waiting. It prickles my skin, icy breath against the back of my neck, my hair standing on end.

Then, Lucas releases me, and for a moment I feel impossibly vulnerable. Fear strikes me like a knife, but the covers are unfurled just in time. I leap into bed, shaking like a leaf, comforted by my head hitting the pillow. My thoughts project visions onto the ceiling, fire, monsters, darkness. They dance around in unison with the quiet pattering of rain outside.

"Goodnight," Claus whispers from the other side of the room, and there's a warm rustle as he rolls over.

I take a deep breath. Lucas slips in beside me. He wraps an arm around my back, his soft fingers pressing into the gap between my shoulder blades. The evil force protests, kept at bay by the power of Lucas's presence. I shift, allowing myself to roll until he's sprawled over me, head resting on my chest, his hair barely tickling my chin. I need him close. I need to know he's there. If I don't, the darkness wins.

I don't think I'll sleep much tonight.

Lucas's breathing is quiet, gentle against my skin. He moves a little, and then he pulls the blanket over us with a little sigh.

"What's the second train?"

"I don't know," I mumble. Lucas adjusts himself again, hugging me like a pillow. I put my arms around him, and he's surprisingly warm, which helps me ignore the room's icy chill. I feel reality surfacing back inside my mind.

"The second train is… mine," Lucas ponders. "Giant's mine? But, maybe not, I don't think so…"

His rambles are a relief. They cut out anything else, and they almost send me into a blissful sleep. He pronounces his words like butter, and when he whispers, it makes me feel special, special enough for him to trust me with his words. He huddles against me, rubbing away the goosebumps.

"I suppose we'll find out tomorrow," I say. The thought wakes me back up a little. Tomorrow, everything could change. Tomorrow, Porky makes his move.

"Yeah," Lucas says.

Silence falls.

We lie, arms wrapped around one another, contemplating our thoughts and the terror that leaps when I think about letting go. The darkness swirls above me, menacing and secretive, and I can sense that nightmares lurk within, ready to strike as soon as I give in to sleep. The thought keeps me on edge, toes twitching with anticipation, fingers flickering against Lucas's delicate skin. I find myself focusing on that instead, the smoothness, the lack of scarring across his back. There's a birthmark under his right shoulder, a little bump that I can touch, roll around.

Lucas swats my hand away with a snort. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry," I flush, mortified by my reverie. Lucas laughs a little at my antics, coming up to kiss me as punishment. I reciprocate, pulling him near, shoving a hand into his hair and bludgeoning him with affection. He's invisible in the darkness, but I can feel him everywhere. The terror momentarily vanishes, flying out through the curtains. My heart pounds. I'm suddenly hard in my pyjama shorts, and I'm pretty sure Lucas is too. But Claus is still here, I remember, and I stop kissing every inch of Lucas's face just long enough for my thoughts to resurface.

Just long enough for Lucas to notice my arousal.

"You must really like me," he murmurs. He rolls to my side. I've embarrassed him.

"Yeah," I say weakly. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay. I really like you too."

"I know. Obviously."

There's an awkward silence.

"Claus is over there," Lucas mutters. "We can't-"

"I know. I was thinking the same-"

"Good, good, I'm glad-"

I don't know what to say. Part of me feels like I've messed things up again, but part of me feels like it's okay. It's one of those awkward parts of a new relationship.

"Sorry," I murmur.

"It's okay. I mean, I was too, uh. You know."

"Yeah."

There's another pause, and I feel a little giddy.

"I meant it, though." Lucas touches my cheek. "I genuinely do like you."

"I like you too, Lucas."

"Yeah, but I like you a lot. If tomorrow is going to be as bad as we think, I want you to know that. I know things have been, uh, a bit messy, but I'm absolutely certain of that. I don't think enough people tell you they love you."

I don't know what to say. I think I'm welling up a little.

"You changed my life, Ness. Seriously. I don't care if we met because of freakish psychic instincts, or because you just saw some poor kid that needed help. You were kind to me when it mattered. I love you so, so much."

"I love you too," I say, sniffling.

"I was counting on it."

"This is cliché."

He prods my cheek. "We gave up avoiding clichés long ago, you goof."

"Even that's a cliché!"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," I mumble, and Lucas pulls me close again. Being the little spoon is nice, I decide, as Lucas pets my hair and lets me bury my face in his chest. The light returns just a little, and I can nearly make out his face when he pulls back.

"Let's sleep," he says. "For real this time."

"For real," I agree, laying my head back down on the pillow. I can make out the wooden beams crossing the ceiling, empty of anything crooked, anything wrong. This time, Lucas cuddles me from behind. It's a warm feeling.

How bad will tomorrow be? I can't know for certain. We have a blissful morning of lessons to get through first. The Prom will no doubt involve Future Humans, but then again, Porky has never been one for being predictable. Something else will happen, something big, but whatever it is, we're prepared. We have an army. We have magic.

Most of all, we have each other.

I drift off into sleep.

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A towering pair of doors stand before me. They're thrown open, revealing a sea of desolation.

Cracked stone pillars roll over shattered concrete. Broken gas lamps fill a barren stretch of dust. Ruined paintings, upturned tables, and scattered chairs surround the centrepiece: a demolished clocktower, its bells tolling their melancholy last.

I push forward through the rubble, desperately searching, though I don't know what for. Something's blazing in the corner, a dying plume of fire, consuming a lone pile of books. My legs carry me over, acting of their own accord.

A figure steps from among the wreckage.

"Oh, Ness... it truly is a pleasure."

I wince. Porky looks worse than ever. His right arm is nearly stripped of flesh, only held together by thin rods of metal. He's put on weight, and the burn scars from Everdred's bombing haven't healed well. The skin is a craggy mess of red.

"It's wonderful, don't you think?" Porky spreads his arms, the marble skies stretching above him. "So much ruin. So many little things, all gone..."

I don't reply. Crows complain in the distance, kites circling overhead, looking for something dead to feast on.

"You must be confused," Porky says, beginning to lead me through the ruins. "You people are so complex, full of your silly thoughts, emotions... You live such futile lives, concerning yourselves with pointless labours — don't you see it, Ness? There's no purpose to it all."

The last of the fires dissipates behind us, leaving only ash in its wake. Smoke billows into the sky, joining plumes of hollow clouds.

"I'm bringing them mercy," Porky says, waving towards the distant hills. There, several dark figures stoop, hunched over in agony. "The future of humanity doesn't care about feelings. My creations don't care about pain, or loss, or grief, or hate. They just focus on bringing their freedom to others, because they are what we all must become, you understand? They're beacons, peaceful. Full of hope and safety. They're natural forms of evolution."

But that's not true. There is no hope or peace or safety. The Future Humans in the train station were scavengers, lost, abandoned by their creator. They didn't try to convert Villager. It looked like they were trying to eat him.

"Of course," Porky says, his grin widening as he comes to a stop and faces me. "This isn't real. Not yet, anyway. You're asleep, dear Ness. But don't worry, for all this will happen in the end... I'll have what I want. I'll have my victory. I'll get you back for what you did to me."

But what did I do? I can't remember. Nothing fixes in my mind.

"Foolish thoughts," Porky snarls, his eyes growing wild. "Once again, you are blinded by your selfishness! Wake! I cannot wait any longer to bring your demise!"

The ground begins to shake. The figures on the hilltop scream, dissolving into mist. Pillars crumble, and I'm thrown back into darkness.

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When I open my eyes, the dormitory is the same. It's still the middle of the night. Claus breathes heavily in the next bed, and the rain has started up again, pattering against the window.

Someone's extinguished the gas lamps in the hallway, which means the room is completely black. It fills me with a sense of foreboding, especially as I wonder what Porky is doing now. Is he in his office? Does Porky sleep? I don't know.

I don't know if he's human enough for that.

It's cold. Freezing, actually. Fear starts to creep back in, Lucas's arms aren't around me anymore, and half of the covers have fallen from my body. I try to pull some blankets over me, but Lucas grumbles in protest.

"Hey," I whisper.

"Hey." His voice is thick with fatigue.

"I'm cold..."

Lucas sighs, shuffling nearer and wrapping himself around me. He brings over his blanket, nestling us as if we're in a cocoon.

"Better?"

"Yeah," I mumble, warmth flooding my body. "You sleep yet?"

"Not yet."

"Howcome?"

"Kept thinking, I s'pose." He puts his chin against my shoulder. "You were having a nightmare, weren't you?"

"Yeah," I say.

I tell him what happened.

Lucas shifts, his brow creasing with concern. "Weird."

"We won't let it come true," I say. "We'll win."

"...I hope so."

We fall back into a murky silence. My consciousness swims, wanting to pull me back under, but the dream keeps prickling at my mind. Trying to shake it off, I roll to face Lucas again. "What time is it?"

"Not sure," Lucas mumbles. "Three or four."

"And you haven't slept?"

"I kept getting close, but... I don't know. It's like something was waiting for me. Like if I closed my eyes, we wouldn't be safe."

"I felt that too," I murmur.

"And your snoring didn't help."

"Sorry," I say, blushing.

"It's okay. I wasn't getting anywhere anyway."

There's another moment of silence. I press my forehead against his, trying to gauge his thoughts, his emotions. Most of what I receive is fear or anticipation. I reach for his hand in the darkness, and he gently laces our fingers together.

"Are you scared?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says.

"So am I."

For a moment, all I can hear is the rain. Then, Lucas makes a tiny noise, and he pulls me impossibly close. "Don't leave me, Ness."

"I won't. I swear on everything."

"If we lose tomorrow, promise me you'll run. Promise you'll stay safe."

"I promise," I say, though doubt trickles in. Any psychic premonitions of what's coming are unhelpfully vague. My subconscious mostly screams bad.

"You're too good to die," Lucas mumbles. "Too good to become one of those Future Humans."

"I'll try not to die," I say, because it's all I'll be able to do. "I'll try my very best."

"Ness," Lucas says, something pleading in his voice.

"Lucas?"

He doesn't say anything else.

We lie like that a while longer, neither of us daring to shift, to even make another sound. Once again, the night makes me feel so impossibly small in this tiny room, in this tiny school, on this tiny planet. So much is out there, so many massive things waiting to be discovered, but here I am, stuck in an awful situation. I'm a magician. I was born to be where I lie, and yet it's not where I feel at home. Home is comfort, love, safety, food, friends, Lucas. Home is not the battleground.

I feel myself drifting off a couple of times, but each time I make myself stay awake. I'm tired enough that my eyes water and I have to wipe them on my hand, but it would do no good to rest, not when I'd only be met with more nightmares. I keep the threats at bay, phasing in and out of consciousness, grounding myself in reality whenever I can; the ache in my leg, or the sharp pain from a thorn we missed. The softness of the pillow, or the warmth of Lucas's arms.

Lucas breathes gently, having finally fallen asleep. So much sits between us still, more than Porky and the Future Humans, questions about what we are, who we will be, what this means for our lives. We've ignored them so far, but I don't think that can last much longer. I don't know what my answers to most of them are, other than always and forever, but we need to formally have that discussion before making those kinds of commitments. I've always wanted to respect Lucas's boundaries, even in friendship — if he wanted me gone, then I'd have gone, no matter how much it hurt. That's what it means to love him.

Time passes. Eventually, little streaks of orange start coming through the window. My thoughts are calm, and the evil in the room is long gone. The light grows until it's yellow and white, illuminating the carpet and the patterns on the ceiling. The wardrobe comes into focus, then the bookshelf containing all of the magic items, and finally, the angrily scattered sunflowers on the rooftop outside. All these little things will be gone if we fail, reduced to piles of rubble that Porky will stride through, gloating. It fills me with determination, because even if the little things are small, so much smaller than the Sun and the stars above, they're important. We're important. Life is important, because without it we have nothing.

The sunrise brightens. Little tuffets of dust dance in the rays, and familiar shadows shift pleasingly on the walls. Lucas is so beautiful like this, unaware and glowing, messy bed hair even more golden than usual. The covers have ridden up a little bit, revealing a small patch of his back, adorned with a tiny white fuzz only visible in this light. I almost touch it, but I stop myself. Not while he's sleeping.

Claus eventually makes a sound, rolling around and sitting up to rub his sleep-ridden eyes. Then, the clocktower chimes, and Lucas is awake, tumbling out of his covers and onto the floor. We share a smile before his face hardens with determination, and he stands, pulling open the curtains to letting the light consume the room. He's radiant when he turns again, brighter than any magic I could cast. He holds out his hand to me, and I take it, pulling myself into the day.

"We're going to take down Porky," he says. I smile, delighted by his optimism.

"We're going to win the war."