It's been a rough few months for me. A lot of things have happened since I finished writing my last fic and very few of them were good. I'm trying my best to write something that I'm proud of and this was my first go at that goal. When I wrote my last few fics, The Demon Hunter, The Marra Migration, and various other failed ideas I felt that I just wanted nothing more than to write and be done with it. But after a year I decided that I'd properly write something - a story that reflects me and how I feel about the world around me.

The Owl House has been one of the few cartoons on television that I watch avidly. After the ending of the first season, I knew that I had to write a fic, but I didn't know what it would be about. Then after a few months, I found myself after my classes writing in the library for six hours. Concepts and ideas that I thought I wanted to write about. I ended up with: "What if the Boiling Isles had an anti-magic user?" and from there, we get our OC who I based partially on the characters I kept seeing in the OC fics on here and with the main character of a book I read.

This story starts from season 2's latest episode (Ep10) and jumps back to before season 1.

The Owl House belongs to Dana Terrace and Disney.

Chapter 1:

Signal Fire

Of all the people, Luz, Eda, King, and even people like Amity, Willow, Gus, Kurt never thought that he should be the main character of any story, much less this one. He was like a bystander in his own life, watching things happen around him as opposed to making things happen. Like he was a part of the audience in a movie. He believed he had no vital ability to change what happened in front of him, in fact, he could do very little to help anyone. He was more of a nuisance than an active player.

Kurt started his day this time with no real objectives, his only thought was to see it through to the end, no matter how hard it may be. He stretched his bones until he felt like they would snap, then moved on to brushing his teeth, washing himself, changing out of his nightclothes, and into a more comfortable outfit, grey sweatpants, a black t-shirt that was just a little oversized, light grey sneakers, and a dingy olive green hoodie. When he walked out of the front door, his friends and sister were standing there, having been waiting for some time. His sister was a black-haired girl with a thin, lithe figure, her expression was eager as if waiting for something, she was excited for his arrival but something else, too. They would be traveling somewhere special today, somewhere they hadn't been for a long time.

His other two friends were less average looking, one incredibly tall noticeable from a mile away, and the other so small that you could miss him if you didn't pay attention. They were both very much enthused to see them heading back home, but Kurt's sight lingered on them for a little while longer. They would not be going with him and his sister, and this made them melancholy, hoping that they would stay together for a longer time than they did. Kurt wished the same, but the truth was: He missed the warm embrace of his mother, the caring look she gave him, and her doting attitude. That was all he wanted.

And so, after saying their goodbyes, Kurt went with his sister into this unknown world that would hopefully get them back home.

However, this was not how his world worked. As he went into the unknown world, he was faced with many trials. He had gone through this before, many times before. The trials were the same, and the outcomes were finite. He thought so many times before that he could do it with nothing but belief or will. But somehow it seemed he could not save himself and the people he cared about. Like he was stuck in a loop, a repeat of pain and suffering where he would try his best, only to fail. And at the source, was this unknown world. This hellish, grotesque, world of emptiness that he'd been in so, so many times. It was an unforgiving world, an absurd world, one that rejected him, one that wanted nothing more than the destruction of his sanity and his demise. It would not have one without the other. But this time, he was going through the motions, imitating the time when he wasn't carrying this weight on his shoulders, he'd try his best to move forward no matter how much it pained him to do so. And every time, he got closer to the answer - his peace. This was the breakthrough. This was what all the suffering was for, the cathartic relief that it was all over and that he was better because of it.

No, the world would deny him that until the end of eternity.

This time, he didn't hold fast. He didn't keep his cool. He didn't wait for any opportunities to appear. He didn't wait at all. This time, he laid his head down on the ground below him and broke down into tears, screaming. He could take no more of this, this repeat of pain. He felt like a child again, the foolish child he was, the one who would jump at a single abrupt sound, the one who would cry for no reason at all, the one who would stay up at night staring hopelessly at the ceiling. The same child who was so happy before the fire came. How hopeless was he now? He didn't know. He felt that he had hit the bottom many times before, but there was always another low. He just wanted his mother back. That was all he wanted. In the wake of this evergrowing world, he felt like a speck of dust. Tiny. Insignificant. Useless.

Kurt Noceda, the single hero of the story. The one who ends up dead and kills everybody he knows in the process.

Kurt was born within a great flame that consumed the room, the people inside it, and his tired mother. He cried loudly as the ceiling cracked and caved, crushing her under its pressure. He barely survived after a volunteer saw from the hallway and managed to pull him from his dead mother's carcass and engulf the flames in the fire extinguisher's wet, white cloud. The woman held the boy tightly and cradled him in her breast, crying just as the child did. Dead mother upon the checkered black and white floor, father long gone, and a child left behind by both of them. The nurse injured on the floor cried out as well, screaming in a guttural growl of visceral anguish and pain. The woman glanced and saw that the fire had reached a part of the ceiling lights and fell onto the unsuspecting nurse. Within the nurse's arms, Kurt cried again reminding her of his plight. He would not survive without her and would die before he even had the chance to live.

Camila would never allow that to happen to anyone.

Luz was Camila's second child. Kurt being adopted three years before she was born after the funeral of a nurse she had known for some time while volunteering there. It had been hard to think of what occurred that night without vehemently cursing herself for allowing that woman to die. However, she knew what she could do and what she couldn't do and she did what she could and grabbed the child before he could end up dead. And after everything, she knew that she couldn't let the newborn end up in foster care. She knew just how awful it could be.

His father had completely disappeared, his mother was dead, and he had no relatives or other guardians available to him. She signed as many things as she needed to get him away from the much worse foster care system. She took him home, and fed him, cared for him, and showed him the world he lived in. He grew to be a wonderful child, someone who could take care of himself, and now she would be able to do it with someone of her own flesh and blood.

The first few years had been quite a handful, even when Kurt had grown up enough to take care of Luz by himself. There were occasions when would break things, but he was obedient in her presence, if constantly searching for her attention.

When he was five and Luz was three, she asked a cousin to watch over the both of them while she did something at work. They were instructed to only play where they could be seen and not break anything. They promised to do so, then waited patiently for her to leave the driveway. They leaned on the window sill, pushing themselves to the highest point possible to see the car drive off for an indefinite amount of time. Time within which, they could do things that she normally would not allow. Today might be an interesting and amusing day. Oh yes, this would be an amusing day indeed.

Kurt had taken to his role as an older brother but had grown to be the ring leader of their antics. When he moved it was methodical and calculated like he had a specific amount of trouble he had meant to cause and was prepared for the repercussions of it. Most times, this ended with the light chastisement from their mother and the punishment of having to clean the mess that they seldom made. It had never ended badly, with the worst time being the time he ended up turning off all the lights in the apartment they lived in when he wandered into the basement during one of Camila's late nights.

Luz never did anything other than follow the leader, into his hair-brained quest for trouble. She wandered and stumbled into even worse trouble that Kurt swooped in to protect her from. These were the things that Kurt never mentioned, the things that got them hurt, or almost killed. And Luz never spoke of it, because she did not speak. She had trouble comprehending others, and instead, divulged in the nearest interesting thing, which was often Kurt's antics.

Neither of them knew of the danger headed their way. Scrapes and bruises forwent and death no less imminent. He knew nothing of his mortality and knew nothing of it for his sister either, for both of them, there was only the visceral feeling of fun and not fun.

Today, Kurt had a glint in his eyes, an excited and elated one. There were new things he'd be doing this time, especially because he saw that their mother had bought a new microwave that he wanted to try out. He had tried it with a few things before, first with a cup which became unpleasantly hot. Some became hot, some only slightly changed in pressure. His final test would be today with something that his mother had placed in aluminum foil in the fridge, not that he was tall enough to pull on the door's handle. "Hey," uttered the current caretaker, "Be careful in there," she leaned back into the couch that she placed herself in. She wasn't really there to take care of them, she was there to make sure they didn't die, which she did to the best of her ability which was hardly any in the first place.

Now with confirmation that he and Luz were alone, they grabbed the thing with silver foil and stood on a chair to reach the microwave, then they laid the foil flat against the bottom of the microwave. Inside was a plastic bowl with a plastic fork with a yellow substance inside, maybe pudding. Kurt slammed the door to close it, the sudden sound ringing out and caused their caretaker to stir, while the little Luz fell onto her behind and cried. Kurt noticed this and took his attention away from the microwave, deciding that Luz took precedence. He leaned down and picked her up - oof, she was heavy - and spun around with her. "Whee!" he intoned, trying his best to cheer her up.

She continued to cry until he sat her down on the chair he used to reach the microwave and sat up behind her, holding her just as his mother did with him. Whenever he did this, she would always lean on him, curling around his arm and hugging it, which she did, then fell asleep after a few minutes. He found it cute that she would do that and minded very little whenever his mother asked him to do it so she could fall asleep. He dozed for a second or two as well, and when he awoke, he heard the microwave going off. A low him and whirring, turning to buzz, then a pop and crackle. When he opened his eyes again, he was in a sea of flame.

The fire shot out of the microwave, burning hot enough that Kurt needed to shield Luz. It covered the walls, counter, then reaching the chair beside it. Kurt picked Luz up off the chair and fell onto his side. There was smoke everywhere, and he began to cough. He managed to find his balance and tried to run through the back door which was next to the refrigerator, but the door had a fire burning on it and several pieces of rubble dropped and blocked that way out anyway. The only option was the front door now. He could barely breathe now, but he pushed his way to the living room. If it was bad for him, how bad was it for Luz? He looked down at her small face, still unconscious. As long as she survived everything would be alright. The fire caught on his shirt as he continued trudging through the fire and past the hallway. He didn't notice that or the teardrops falling on his face and evaporating as kept pushing through. He had to stop and catch his breath, his vision was getting blurrier and blurrier and his legs wouldn't stop shaking. Then he heard Luz coughing, the smoke getting to her too. "Luz!" he cried. "Don't worry, I'll get us out..." he needed to get outside. He made his way to the front door, the hallways engulfed in flame, his throat burning, his heart pounding in vicious rhythms, he reached for the knob, but he couldn't reach it. As the various structures of the house began to collapse, the ceiling began to cave in on them, while he reached desperately for the knob. His middle finger slid on the top of the knob, allowing him to twist it open. Yes!

"K-kh-" Luz choked, "Kurt!"

The fire burned his shoulder, catching onto his hair and sleeve. He rushed outside and ran into the street where cars had stopped and people gathered to see the tragedy occurring on their street. They smothered the fire on Kurt with a jacket. He hacked and coughed, holding his baby sister tightly. As he stood to his feet, he looked and saw his mother's cousin panicking on the side of the road, opposite the burning house. People in the community stopped and helped each other after being hit by explosions in the house. He dropped to one knee, letting the tears fall from his eyes. He looked at Luz, who was also crying now, with despair and sadness deepening in his heart, "Hey kid, are you okay?!" someone asked.

"I-I'm-" he cut himself off. He didn't know.

"An ambulance and fire truck will be here soon, so just hang on, okay?"

Kurt didn't reply as he began to feel dizzy as he was suddenly being grabbed by his mother, "Are you okay?!" she asked, not letting go of him. He didn't say anything. She pulled away from him, staring at him in the eyes, he could not return the gesture, immediately facing the ashes of the home they once lived in, "Are you okay?" she asked in a softer voice, this time. And again, he could not answer. He was responsible for everything that happened, his sister getting severely injured, burning down his home - the home that his mother worked so hard to create for the both of them, and many, many things that came with that. He fell limp within his mother's arms, leaning forward because he was unable to stand anymore. He closed his eyes for a moment, seeing the bright light of the fire, then opening seeing another bright light shining in his face. There was a man in a coat injecting him with something strong making his consciousness fade in and out again. He was rolling down a hallway with some odd contraption in his arm. His mother was crying beside him, tears filling up her dark eyes and face, almost looking as if she was submerged in water. Kurt reached to touch her face, her cheek as he fell in and out of consciousness. As he awoke, he then had his hand at his side, his mother now looking just as tired as depressed, but there was something else. "I almost lost you again!" she cried, "Why do you always have to go chasing these dangerous things? Why would you mess with things that could get you killed?" she was referring to something - his past excursions, maybe. That felt like it was years ago now, the gap between then and now being vast. In fact, he felt like the gap between this morning and now was even more vast. "Dammit, how do I pay for all this?" she uttered, pacing around the hospital, it seemed that this time she didn't notice him. She spoke to herself this time, but his words hurt him in a way he didn't know how to describe. He didn't want to be there anymore. He didn't want to be anywhere. He didn't want to be. His mother noticed that he had woke up, and she asked the same question, "Are you okay, Kurt?"

His answer was still silence. He realized that he hadn't spoken since the fire. It didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. It felt more natural to him now, to not speak rather than to force his mouth open and say things that he did not want to.

"That's okay, you don't have to say anything. We'll get you to a-a doctor... and they'll help you as best they can," Camila said shakily, leaning forward to touch her son's still hand. "I promise," she leaned in to hug him. "I'll protect you this time," As the fire seemed to encroach around them just like the day he was born, just like the fire that almost killed him. He cried again, tears flowing down his cheeks and onto his chin and dissipating in the heat. "I'll protect you."

As the days, months, or years passed after the fire, Camila managed to find them a home in her mother's house which was empty for the most part but visited frequently by her siblings. This put Kurt and Luz on full display. Kurt became quieter and quieter, saying little to nothing to his mother. One week she had become so stressed that she didn't notice that Kurt was not eating. He had become frail and needed to be attended to at almost all times, she did not talk to him unless she mentioned his writing which he seemed to value more than anything. Camila became careful not to irritate him or force him into any situations where he would be forced to talk.

This was difficult when his grandmother always wanted to have a family dinner with them and her various siblings. Some did not understand what he had been through or what he was going through now. He was in a constant state of distress.

Camila let him spend more time at home, allowing him to sleep late during summers. She watched him with no small amount of regret and sadness, it seemed that he had become little more than a social recluse.

Luz watched her brother with a mixture of pity and jealousy. She wanted nothing more than to gain the same attention he was given, and she often gave into impulses that led to this. But she knew what he was going through. She had vague memories of the fire that consumed their childhood home. The frantic look on his face as he did his best to get her out. The burns on his shoulder and part of his face. And the guilt he felt at having started the fire. While she craved the attention of his mother, she understood why he must be attended to. And to boot, Luz was the only one he would ever talk freely to. She would never do anything to forsake that relationship with her brother. Never.

The fire burned his arm, lurching from his hands to his shoulder then all over his chest and back. He let out a choked cry, his voice muffled by the pain coming up to his face. It was millions of guns shooting him all over, shooting fast and without relent. There was heat, immense heat coming at him enough to burn his eyes and make them bloodshot. He choked and coughed, but it was muffled by the heat. Kurts cries became screams, then...

"Kurt!"

It was his mother again. She was clutching him with a vice grip, hoping to awaken him from whatever he had been seeing. He began to realize the world around him, he was in the living room of his grandmother's house. Wooden tables, the small couch, the big couch, and the candle sitting lit behind his mother. Bright, fiery, and melting the wax below it into a pool of ivory liquid.

"Kurt, are you... okay now?" Camila was reluctant to ask since it seemed these days he was never okay. "Do you want to sit down now?"

He nodded, sitting down beside his sister on the couch.

His mother had been trying her best to help him in the years after the fire. She hugged him a lot more now, she tried her best to talk to him, she always made time for both of them. Luz had done her part to care for her older brother too, playing with him all the time, asking if he was all right, sometimes she would sit with him until he fell asleep if he had nightmares. They all were helping so much, taking all the time out of their days to help.

"Hey, are you okay?" Luz asked, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I-I'm better," he uttered, holding his hands at his lap, his thumbs flicking with a nervous rhythm.

Camila sighed, sitting beside both of them, hugging them without relent. "I love you two," she said.

He couldn't help but feel that was untrue. That this was some elaborate trick that had been conjured to make him think that he was loved by someone. All he was seeing was some illusion conjured to keep him out of their lives. In truth, he didn't feel anything about this. It was just fine... or not fine at all. That was the extent.

"Wake up, boy!"

It seemed he had dozed off again, and of all times, in class. The English teacher frowned, turning to the board and back to him, instructing him to tell him the answer to the question he had never heard.

Kurt said nothing.

"Of course you don't know the answer, how could I expect an idiot like you to understand anything but how to be a burden on everything and everyone?"

Kurt leaned his head on his hand again, accepting what his teacher said. He didn't disagree with him, it seemed that was all he was good at. He didn't really care or have to energy to say anything in return. He simply lolled his head to the side, cracking it and letting a rush of fluid come from his joints.

"I bet that fire fried more than his arm, it must've fried his brain, too," he heard from beside him.

That was wrong, it also singed his scalp. Though it wasn't all that much, it meant something to him. Truth be told, he wasn't all that worried since the doctor said his hair would grow back in full.

"Maybe it should have burned his face, too." someone snickered.

"I think it should have killed him. He's not doing any favors for our class."

"Quiet! All of you."

Kurt began to watch as the teacher spoke of the trials that Hercules faced when he was trying to atone for killing his children and his wife. By the time that the man had finished telling the story, Kurt found that he hated and despised the story of him. He hated that by the end, he gained immortality despite having killed his family. Kurt hated everything about it.

"Now, I'd like all of you to write a paper on a time that you all overcame a great labor or a difficult situation in your life. one paragraph, due by next Monday." the teacher said.

Kurt had a few things he would say in that paper, for sure. He had a few words for the great Hercules, yes. Quite a few things he wanted to say.

Kurt thought the world was against him. The fire had brought him a perspective that he didn't know until he grew older. It gave him a distinct and powerful nihilism, one that reminded him that he was powerless and that he could not do anything to stop the teasing and ignorance from the students and the teachers. His only solace was his writing, which he channeled all his rage and frustration into. That didn't matter either, but it brought him some degree of neither fine nor not fine, a feeling of release. It subsided by the time he was stopped by the real world or by a lack of energy to continue. It wasn't uncommon for him to pass out on one of his many manuscripts.

"Kurt, wake up," he heard his mother speak. He hadn't been paying attention, since he was thinking about the essay that was due in a few days. "I'm so sorry, mister Weiser."

"Does this happen often? His constant sleep, I mean," Weiser asked, holding a pen that said "University of Michigan".

"Yes, actually, it's a little frustrating if we're being honest," she explained. "I try not to get too mad over it, especially since at night there's the..."

"I understand miss Noceda," he uttered. "How often do you say this happens on a daily basis?"

"Maybe three or four times a day?" she said. "When he's in school, they say it happens more often. Sometimes, eight times a day."

"I see," the doctor scribbled something down in his notebook, deliberating what he was going to say next. He sighed and continued "So, it appears that your son is showing signs of Post-traumatic stress..."

"Wh-what does that mean?" Camila asked, her eyes becoming glassy with tears.

"He will likely need to see a different psychotherapist or a behavioral therapist for further help. I can't do anything more than that," he said. "He's struggling a lot with the trauma associated with the fire, and I can say that it isn't my specialty dealing with things like this. I can maybe send you to a psychiatrist, but that's all I can do for him."

He remembered that after they had left, she asked for a psychiatrist before they had headed back home. With her crying the entire way home. Kurt wept too, but he didn't know why. He wasn't sad, angry, or anything other than fine. Nothing was wrong, but it seemed that nothing was right either. It was all just nothing.

A few more days, months, or years passed without Kurt knowing the difference anymore. Slowly, Kurt felt that he was growing. He didn't know whether or not that was a good thing. Everyone around him was growing, too. His classmates were more understanding, though there were still people who threw insults at him freely. He no longer cared to defend himself even within his own thoughts.

A few teachers began to pick up on his passion and talent for writing, always adding some new ideas into his paragraphs and essays. During lunch and free time, they allowed him to silently walk into their classrooms to write and then leave after.

He didn't get any flashbacks in public places anymore, however, he still had nightmares. He still spoke only when Luz was there and when he was alone.

Luz had grown into an individual, who seemed keen on doing mischievous things just like they did before the fire came. Her latest excursion bringing various criticisms from their mother, the principal, and some students. She had brought snakes into class and of course, they attacked everyone, including the principal. When she returned home, Kurt saw the look on her face as she rushed up to him and hugged him. He saw Camila's face, angry and frustrated with her constant stunts.

After Camila had left to return to her job, she began to answer the natural question that he was prepared to ask.

"She wants to send me to reality check camp!"

The camp that was known particularly for its results and how the campers would become overachievers in their classes. It quite literally gave them a reality check. There was distress in that, but it was the fact that her mother had endorsed the very thing that she hated that made Luz sick. Kurt took notice of the fact that when she left, he would have no one to talk to.

They both opposed it vehemently, but as the months passed, Camila only became more adamant about sending Luz away to the camp while Kurt feared his only talking partner going somewhere that he could not see. He knew this day was inevitable, the day that he would have no one... when his only solace would end up being the only thing keeping him from being sane. He felt prepared but somehow, that made him even more scared to fall away from comfort.

Sickness followed him for the last month, holding his lungs hostage and his mind being sent spiraling. Then the day came that Luz prepared to give her summer away to a foreign place she knew nothing about. Standing at the bus stop, Luz and Kurt stood together as always, but this time, they were prepared to separate.

They agreed not to cry, but neither could keep their promise and the inseparable siblings cried while holding each other for what they believed would be the last time for two months; and there were so many things she'd miss: Kurt's seventeenth birthday, their mother's birthday, and maybe even the first time that Kurt ever drove a car. They held each other for a long while, as Camila tried her best not to cry. "Mija, your fantasy world is holding you back. Do you have any friends? Real ones, not imagined or drawn or reptilian?"

Luz looked down at her book, disappointed. It was the book that inspired her to become who she was today, it was a part of her in a way, a link in a long chain that moved endlessly through her time on this earth, an essential link.

"Summer camp is a chance to make some friends, but you have to try. Can you do that?"

But maybe it was a link that held her down. Maybe the inner world she had been so keen on cultivating and growing, the one thing that made her who she was, was nothing more than a detriment. Camila watched happily as her daughter gave up childhood reverie and dropped it into the trash. Kurt heard the quiet sound of their mother's phone vibrating in her purse. She paused for a second to read the text, and turned to Luz, "Oh, I gotta go to work," she leaned in and kissed Luz's forehead, "Your bus is coming soon. Text me when you get there. Cuídate mucho, mija. ¡Qué te vaya bien!" As soon as their mother left for work, Luz rummaged through the trash that she threw her book in on a stupid, stupid whim.

"What the- tiny trash thief!" she said, as a very small owl picked her book up in its small talons and pulled it away from her. "That's mine!" she called out to it, following behind it, leaving Kurt behind at the station alone. He followed her, naturally.

"Luz!" he called out to her in his hoarse voice for the first time in a few days. He let the adrenaline rush through him like the days when he and her would play hide-and-seek, tag, or just chase each other around for the fun of it. But this was different, he hadn't felt that way in such a long time, and he only felt this way when he was hanging out with her. His entire body buzzed with adrenaline until he reached the point where he had followed her to an odd house, which while he observed, he took time to take a breather at the steps.

Luz blindly leaped through a door without thinking a second thought. She needed her book back immediately. She stumbled into it confused and frustrated-this never would have happened if she hadn't sent her to some damn camp! Her conscience told her: This never would have happened if you had brought something more safe to class. If you weren't so quick to pick the most dangerous thing. But she quickly realized, there was nothing wrong with what she did. What was wrong with what she did? The only thing that could be argued was that she went about it the wrong way. Which she did. She could not be blamed for making a mistake like that, since she had no idea the damage it would cause. Why would her mother even allow her to do something like that? She didn't pay any attention to what she did since she was always paying attention to something - anything! - else. Kurt, her work, television, why was she being so harshly punished for being ignored?

She thought of this as she rushed through the door without a single regret, and as she did, her world was being turned upside down. Luz continued to follow the owl through a tent and found herself in an odd room filled with old-looking toys and objects. The owl who had taken her book rushed through to the other side and was met with a woman she only got a glimpse of. She was incredibly tall and paler than the average person, her hair was similarly pale, as long as a hedgehog's. She saw her book taken by the woman from a large trash bag, and she quickly found it to be good kindling as she held it over a candle to burn. Luz ran out of the tent and grabbed her book from the woman, "Excuse me, sorry, it's mine, thank you!" she said, rushing past her and back into the tent attempting to return through the door, however, the door closed into itself turning into a small suitcase.

Looming over her now, the woman walked toward Luz with a dark glint in her eye, "You're not going anywhere."

Kurt moved cautiously, being sure to only allow his foot to enter through the door. Once he saw that was safe, he moved his entire leg in, then his entire body. Once his head was in, he knew that he wasn't in the place he thought he would be in. It was a void, empty and shallow. His body was sent into a spiral, giving him an odd feeling in his bones. The spiral pulled him in like a whirlpool to the Nautilus, or like the tornado to Dorothy in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. As it spun, he grew dizzy. He saw lights shooting past and stars encircling around him. He watched in mild awe until he fell forward in a tired display. The lights and stars exploded outward as Kurt began to fall. When the lights left, there was nothing. Nothingness that bled over into his eyes and held all of his senses. Not as a stranger, but as a friend that caught him as he fell. It caressed and soothed him. It was alright now. Slowly it disappeared just as gracefully as it came to him.

Then the fire came.