(Content/trigger warnings for this chapter: anxiety, mentions of racist behaviors against Black people, depression-like thing)

**Isabelle**

For the rest of Ranya's classes, I sat awake where I once slept in the back near cold drafts and sad dirty corners, now worrying. I didn't want to look at my symbol. Had what I had done at lunch made Ranya love me more? Would the Watcher soothe me again? And… What could I do about the white mist without making the symbol grow?

Ranya didn't talk in her remaining classes. People stared and whispered behind her back. I'd known she had no friends, but I hadn't known people treated her like this. No wonder she wanted powers like mine…

After eighth hour, Ranya retrieved her things from her creaky, rusted locker, and then we headed to the school's back entrance. It was a single door nearly falling off its hinges. Cracks danced on the walls in tight, spinning patterns.

A tall girl with pink, blue, and purple streaking down her black braids stood in front of the door with her hands tightly gripping her colorful backpack. She wore several layers of shirts and jackets of interesting complimenting hues.

I wanted to compliment her on it, but would that make her love me?

Dakota glanced out the window, and then turned and opened the door before zipping up her outermost coat. "I parked my car farther away to keep this secret. We'll have to walk for a little bit." She walked through the door into the cold, looking back to see if Ranya and I were following her.

The journey was mostly silent. Ranya stared at the ground, and Dakota took the lead on the empty road, trekking through the slush. It wasn't as cold as it had been earlier. The snow was melting into quivering puddles on the ground. Yet, frigid wind howled from every direction as if we were surrounded by wolves.

Dakota had parked her smooth white car on the edge of the road a ways away from the school. Sparsely settled pine trees stuck up around the area, and I couldn't help but try to peer behind each one without giving my anxiety away to Dakota. What if the mist returned now that we were away from the large group of people? I glanced at the sky and behind me every few moments.

But after Dakota made a makeshift booster seat for me out of textbooks, we were off.

The drive was equally quiet. It wasn't until we entered a street lined with houses similar to mine that someone spoke.

Ranya pursed her lips. "I thought you didn't want us going to your house."

Dakota shook her head. "We need someplace private. I couldn't find a secret place in time." Ranya didn't reply to that.

We soon arrived only a few neighborhoods down from my own home. I hoped the Guardians hadn't figured out we were gone yet. Would they still think we were sleeping, and not open our doors to check on us? It was awfully late to still be asleep. Were Tooth and Jack still knocked out? My muscles tightened nearly painfully.

Dakota's house looked quite a bit like ours: worn yellow siding, two stories, a brown-tiled and pointed roof. More colorful flowers bloomed along the sidewalk to the porch, though, and the trees in the front yard bore purple foliage. However, some of the flowers and leaves were curling brown, I guessed from the cold.

We stepped out of the car, and Dakota slipped her books into her backpack. Then we followed her inside the home. Colors popped from everywhere in the front hallway—fake flowers stacked on a shelf, bright yellow carpet bursting up from the floor, and pink-and-green shoe cubbies rising from the red doormat. The house smelled likes roses, a similar scent to Ranya's room sometimes. Yet, it felt unfamiliar; it wasn't exactly like my home. My anxiety tugged harder on my thoughts, coercing them into thinking about the danger.

A thin middle-aged woman walked up to us. She had short, twisty hair and stood about as tall as Dakota. A wide smile burst from her deep brown face with large, curved features. She wore a bright yellow shirt with large red flowers blooming across it, and a chunky blue necklace. Her shoes were violet heels. I assumed she was Dakota's mom.

"We have hooks over there for your coats." She gestured. Dakota had already been hanging up hers, but Ranya and I joined her. "And please leave your shoes by the door, or in those cubbies there."

Once we had finished, Dakota's mom smiled again and clasped her hands together. "Is there anything else you need? Food? Drink?"

"I'm fine," said Ranya.

I spotted a pink jar of chocolate chip cookies on the swirly blue countertop behind Dakota's mom. She caught me staring, gave me a knowing look, and popped one out and handed it to me. "All you have to do is ask."

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Dakota groaned. "Mom, you don't have to give cookies to everyone who comes in."

"We'll never eat all of these by ourselves."

"Let's go to my room," Dakota told us, and we headed upstairs.

Her house had a similar layout to mine. However, two of the rooms upstairs that we used as bedrooms were offices here, each clad with a desk and laptop and shelves and drawers full of office supplies. The third normal-sized bedroom was Dakota's, where Ranya's was in our house.

Dakota opened the door to her room. The rest of the house was nicely-decorated and colorful, but hers was beautiful. On the left stood a large neat bookshelf full of novels organized by color, complete with flowers. Next to that stood a desk with fake blue hydrangeas in a clear vase and purple cylinder organizers for pencils, pens, and sticky notes along one side. The desk bore no stray papers, and instead supported a laptop, Above the desk hung a tall calendar with, in the spaces, large, curly handwriting in multiple colors.

On the other side of the room stood a perfectly-made bed, its blankets a purple floral pattern, with several decorative pillows. A window with blue curtains sat in the wall above it, and a nightstand with a glass lamp stood to its left. Nearby was a closet door decorated with an organized purple collage of pictures of I assumed her family. And next to that hung a large flag with three stripes: pink, purple, and blue. I couldn't remember which identity that was.

The shock of the beauty of the room eased my fear only a little before it spiked again. I again wanted to compliment Dakota, but didn't want her to love me.

Ranya glanced at the flag, and a grin lit her face. "You're bi? I'm also queer!"

"I know," Dakota said softly. "That's why I left the flag up. Please don't tell anyone at school."

"I won't." Ranya glanced over at the bookshelf. "You have a lot of books."

"I write. I have to read a lot to be a good writer."

"Oh! I write too!"

I couldn't interpret the expression on Dakota's face at that, but suddenly Ranya was scowling. Dakota led us inside and closed the door. She tugged a couple of small bean bags out of her closet (where I glimpsed neat rows of notebooks sitting on a shelf above her clothes), one green and one blue, in front of her desk. "Sit down." She set her backpack on the ground, spun her white desk chair around to face us, and sat as Ranya and I plopped into the soft beanbags. "Let's start."

Ranya still scowled, tapping her fingers hard on her legs. Would she blow?

I quickly told Dakota about my powers and the situation, Ranya's glower getting deeper and deeper. "Pitch told Jack he would kill me when I became a spirit," I ended. My heart pounded. I was still avoiding looking at my symbol. The thought of what I might find made my chest squeeze. "When I get enough love."

"I think the Watcher's been manipulating people's emotions so they'll bend to his will," Ranya said, her words sharp like a blade on the tongue. "Today at lunch, he soothed Isabelle so she'd do something that would make her get more love from me. I tried to stop it, but I… was too tired to think quickly. He also kept Jack from telling everyone about the spirit thing until it was too late, and made our parents send us to school the day of the attack, and I think has been making our mom act weird. Our dad last night, too."

Dakota furrowed her eyebrows, and her eyes hardened. She turned to me. "Of course you want to get rid of your powers. Do you have any ideas? You know them the best."

"No," I said. "I tried to figure out where they came from, but I can't control my visions. I thought that with your powers…"

"We were attacked by the mist last night," Ranya interrupted, seething. "The white vanishing one. We still don't know who's causing it, but I discovered it whispers secrets. Did it tell you anything?"

Dakota shook her head slightly. "We're here for Isabelle's powers. Remember, I said I was helping her. With her powers gone, the mist will leave her alone." She looked back at me. "I also think the important thing in getting rid of your powers is figuring out where they've come from."

"I think they might have to do with Windshallow, but I'm not certain," I said. "And Pitch said he could track me. I was wondering if… perhaps my powers were a sort of beacon."

"I call him the Stalker myself. I wonder if my powers attracted him, too. It's the only reason I can think of for why he watches my family, and may be why he watches yours as well. I've searched, but haven't found anyone else who's ever seen the Stalker."

"So now you acknowledge him!" Ranya said.

"Ranya, this isn't why we're here." Dakota's voice was a little sterner this time, though it wavered. She templed her fingers. "The mystery we have to find out is, who gave you that curse? Have any of your ancestors committed a crime? Angered spirits, or even tried to contact them? Has your family done anything with Pitch or the Guardians before?"

"I mean, not that I know… I can ask."

"If it's a family curse, you'd probably already know. Your parents know about your powers, right?"

"Right."

"Then you would've heard about an ancestor with the same curse. And everyone in your family would have it, or, like, the firstborn in each generation."

I fingered the hem of my dress. "No one else in my family has powers, but the Watcher targets Ranya."

"Hmm."

Dakota's mouth opened again, and it moved, but all sounds faded from my ears. I could no longer feel the ground. My vision went dark.

My senses returned to a familiar scene: Pitch's lair.

The air was cold and dank, but I couldn't shiver; that would be movement. I stood on stone steps. This time, the crooked pathways, jagged crumbling structures, and twisted iron cages dangling from the ceiling housed Fear Angels: they strode, towering, along the paths; huddled together inside the structures; and balanced on the cages. My heart beat hard and quick.

In the center of the cavern stood Pitch facing the side. Though far away, I could see his solar eclipse-like irises and each pore in his ashy skin. My heart thudded harder and shook my soul.

A Fear Angel swooped down from the only source of light—the cave entrance above. Its black wings beat the air as it thundered to the ground in front of Pitch. Its finger bones were wrapped around a single yellow dandelion.

It held it out to Pitch, but he scowled and smacked it away. "Another petty flower? When will you Fear Angels learn?" The skeletal being's hollow eyes widened in a pained-looking expression. "I'm thinking! Leave me alone."

My senses faded to black. The ground disappeared beneath me.

I was sucked back to Dakota's bedroom. Both she and Ranya stared at me.

"When she stops responding, she's having a vision," Ranya was explaining, though her words were nearly a growl.

I looked up at her, and then Dakota. "What did you see?" Dakota asked.

I told her.

"Did you have any visions about Pitch before you were chosen to be a Guardian?" she asked.

I shook my head. Ranya's gaze darted to the palm of my hand, and her eyes widened. Finally the unknown was too terrifying to ignore: was the symbol nearly complete already? It was worth the risk to reassure myself that it wasn't. When I peeked at my palm, my heart rate slowed. The symbol was only at halfway, the curved bottom half of the "G" visible. Who knew, however, how long it would stay that way with the Watcher after me?

Dakota followed my gaze. Ranya explained to her what the symbol was for.

Dakota's eyes narrowed. "Against your will?"

"Against my will," I said.

Dakota stood and ran a hand through her braids. "The supernatural, thinking they can do whatever they want with our lives… No matter how much suffering they cause!" She huffed and paced across the room. "No matter how we feel. Just to meet their goals."

A different, hollow look crossed her face as her tone softened, and she looked at me with a reassuring gaze. "I will find a way to get rid of your powers, Isabelle. At least, I'll try as hard as I can."

"Then why won't you help me?" Ranya said, her nostrils flaring wide. "Why are you ignoring me?"

Dakota shook her head. "Ranya, we're not here for—"

"What is it I've done that you hate me for?" Ranya rose to her feet. "We have the same goal—to get rid of Pitch, and the Watcher, and everything they've created. Why do you never want to talk about your 'Stalker'—or, well, you'll talk about him with my sister! If I'm gonna help Isabelle get out of this and take her place as a Guardian, I need to know about him, and the mist, and I need an ally! I can't do this on my own!"

Silence. Dakota's face was blank.

"Why aren't you helping her?" I asked, not unkindly. "It's kind of mean that you'll only help me. Don't you want help with the Watcher, too? The… The white mist, when it attacked us, said he gave you a curse."

Dakota didn't respond for a few moments as her blank face slowly cracked and weakened. Then she said, "That's how you think about me, isn't it? Mean? Cold? It's not your fault, Ranya, but I just need to be… careful." The word was quieter, like she didn't want to say it. Several expressions passed over her face before she took a breath. "Since your sister trusts you, I guess this may not hurt… Ranya, I can't leave Windshallow."

-Ranya-

My chest was still hot, and my muscles were as tight as they could go. I guess it was my complete lack of sleep that helped make me like this, but I had suddenly been shaken from self-pity when I realized Dakota hating me was keeping me from saving Isabelle's life. Maybe without Dakota on my side, I would fail to take my sister's place as the new Guardian.

"What?" I glared up at Dakota. The colorful room in all its cheer—especially the bookshelf—seemed to mock me. I didn't understand what not being able to leave Windshallow had to do with anything. There was the Watcher's curse, but how was that related to why she wouldn't help?

"The Stalker cursed my parents and me," Dakota said. "We can't leave Windshallow. It probably only affects my family, because I've never heard you mention it."

I stared. She stared back. Then something in her face broke again, and she continued, "I haven't left since I was nine. My parents were driving me to see a professional about my hallucinogenic dreams when suddenly a raw, horrifying terror of leaving hit us all. We were near the borders of Windshallow. My dad stopped the car in the middle of the road. A police officer was right behind us and thought we were high, and almost arrested my dad even after we all passed drug tests. Later, when I thought about it, I realized the Stalker had caused that fear. It was clearly supernatural—it had just felt so… weird. He was also the only supernatural being who had ever hurt me, and it seemed like something he could do—mess with our brains.

"It happened whenever we tried to leave, walking or driving or riding with someone else, so we stopped. But when I was thirteen, I was desperate to not let the Stalker ruin my life. My friends were already suspicious of where my hallucinations came from, and why I couldn't join them when they hung out outside Windshallow or went on class field trips."

"Did they know about your powers?" Isabelle asked quietly with her eyebrows furrowed, her hands slowly moving toward Dakota as if they wanted to comfort her.

"No, my parents told me not to tell anyone. Some of my powers have to do with darkness, and if people heard about them, they might think I was evil." She bowed her head, her colorful hair catching the light from the round yellow and indigo fixture overhead.

"It was very difficult, but walking on the side of the road, I managed to use my fury to push past the terror and cross Windshallow's border. But something else overtook my senses, and I passed out. I woke up in the back of a police car. The officers said they had found me saying nonsense, and they needed me to take drug tests. That was the last time I tried to leave.

"I'm not strong enough to fight against the Stalker's curse myself. He's so powerful I can't even sense him. I think he's blocking me. He's even stronger than Pitch."

She sat back down. All her energy slowly left her. Her shoulders sagged, her face fell, and she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees.

I could easily see how the Watcher could ruin Dakota's life. She was supposed to graduate this year, but wouldn't be able to attend regular college. Her job options would be severely limited if she could only find something online or in Windshallow. And like me, she couldn't make friends—and if she wanted to get married one day, she'd have a hard time with that, too.

Plus, if the town ever came in grave danger from Pitch and the Watcher, she and her parents couldn't leave. That's why she refuses to let the Guardians take care of it. She doesn't trust them.

The weight wrapped its vice around my body again now that it had a chance. I didn't want to speak, just ruminate on our problems.

"I thought you'd want to know." Dakota made eye contact with me, then looked away.

We sat in silence. Not a breeze stirred in the room. The bi flag was stiff. Our bodies were still. The laptop on the desk didn't even whir.

And Dakota still wouldn't tell me what her problem with me was. Plus—the Watcher is stronger than Pitch? That didn't bode well for us. And it didn't make complete sense. The Watcher had shown the full extent of his deadly powers six years ago, but now he was only altering our emotions to change little things.

Isabelle said with a soft voice, "Don't you two still have the same goal?" She looked between us. "You both want Pitch, and the Watcher, and the white mist defeated."

Dakota shook her head. "I want the Guardians gone from Windshallow, too. They brought Pitch here."

I leaned forward. I thought of putting my hand on her knee in comfort or something, but that just seemed too weird. "And they'll leave once Pitch and the Watcher are defeated. That's how it always works. In the movie, in the books, and in fanfiction. The Guardians go back to doing their jobs—making presents, collecting teeth, etc. They might visit if they made friends, but they still have work to do."

Dakota bit her lip. Her gaze was bright. "That's still not why we're here."

"Even if you don't trust me enough, the Guardians need someone to help defeat Pitch and the Watcher. That's how it always works, when a new Guardian is chosen. And since Isabelle's too terrified, and most people aren't even aware of what's going on or have anything they can use to fight, and you don't want to join the supernatural world, it has to be me." I almost mentioned what Isabelle's first Guardian Angel said, but I didn't want Isabelle hearing about that and getting even more scared.

"That's… none of my business," Dakota said.

"If Pitch and the Watcher aren't defeated, they'll reign forever."

Dakota opened her mouth to reply, but a flash of realization crossed her face and she shut it, then opened it again. "You said you were attacked by the mist last night. Did you escape using Isabelle's powers?"

I nearly groaned in frustration, but this might be important. "Yeah, she managed to protect us with a shield."

"So the mist couldn't go through it."

"No."

"If Isabelle's powers can stop the mist… That may be a clue to where they're from, if we can figure out who controls the mist. It may also be a clue to how we can destroy it."

We. I grinned. "You'll help?"

"Only to defeat Pitch and the Watcher and get these nightmares out of Windshallow."

"Well, I need a plan," I said. "Pitch, and I think the Watcher, aren't hurt by normal weapons. I'd need something from the Guardians, or powers. I tried to recruit people at lunch today to see if they had any ideas, but I failed. Everyone was so stressed about the paralyzed people, I think."

Dakota stood and began to pace. Her eyes flashed bright. "Well, I couldn't command Pitch to die; my powers are too weak against his. I think it'd be the same with the Watcher."

"Could you command something else to kill them?" I said. "Wait, no. Pitch and the Watcher are too powerful. They'd kill whatever it was first."

"Hmm… Is there any chance the Guardians would cooperate with us?"

"I doubt it…. How about… How do your powers work?"

Dakota gave me a wary look. "What do you mean?"

"Like, is it more difficult to command people to do some things instead of others?"

Dakota furrowed her eyebrows for a few seconds. "Well…"

"Like, could you command Pitch and the Watcher's powers to weaken instead of all-out kill them?"

Dakota's eyes widened. "Maybe with Pitch."

"I could get a normal weapon from somewhere."

"The only problem is you'd need to make Pitch come back to Windshallow. My powers won't work on something far away. But if you can do that…"

Isabelle beamed. "Ranya could win! At least against Pitch."

The colors of the room seemed brighter—and in a good way this time. This was the closest I'd come to saving my sister and achieving my dream. She could be safe, and I could be loved. I could join the world I'd always wanted.

"Dakota, why don't people like Ranya?"

This soft question came from Isabelle. She was no longer smiling.

"I heard people at school being mean to her, and I was wondering if something could help," she added.

"Well…" Dakota said. "I think most people don't like Ranya just because they don't like most people. But the Stalker… he doesn't help. I had friends before they stopped believing me about my hallucinations. Many people won't refuse to be your friend if you do drugs, but when you 'insist on lying' about your obvious symptoms, they think you'd lie about other stuff, too, and they don't want to be friends with someone like that."

"When I was ten, my friend Caelum betrayed me and got my other friends to do the same," I said, tears immediately burning my eyes from the memory. "I haven't been able to make more since then."

And to my side, the floor fell away. Isabelle started, and we leaped to our feet. Dakota hesitated for a second before darting in front of us and raising her arms as the area widened with a rumble into an opening big enough for a large man.

Two long blue-gray ears appeared over the top. I snatched Isabelle's arm and was about to turn and run when Bunny hopped the rest of the way out and landed with a thud in front of Dakota. Her back stiffed.

"Ranya, Isabelle!" he called as I turned my sister away and we began to dash back down the hall. "Zachary was taken by the Watcher."

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