It was such a peculiar dream. Well, probably it would be better to call it a nightmare. Jim blamed the sleepless and highly stressful night. He must have actually dozed off at some point.
The only good thing was that it felt kind of lucid. Not in a way that he could control the direction, but that he was more like an onlooker, an extra consciousness inside his own body.
Either than that, it was horrible. Inside this nightmare, the enemies swarmed everywhere, the amulet refused to cooperate, and even when Jim hid inside his house, it brought no safety as the ultimate enemy entered.
Barverra, the daughter of Gunmar, the one deadset on turning his life into literal hell.
And, the dream Jim fought her with nearly animalistic desperation and hatred, no different from a berserker.
He had no chance even in the dream though, as his more experienced and powerful enemy had no trouble yanking his improvised weapon and then pining him to the ground.
It was the end with no way out. Her murderous intent skyrocketed, washing away any wish to fight, substituting anger with sheer terror.
And then Jim woke up, fully expecting to hear some laughter from his classmates for not being able to keep up with the lesson's content. Perhaps, some scolding from the teacher would follow, and Tobes would try to lighten the mood with an optimistic remark, and...
The reality, however, was far from the classroom.
Jim was still pinned to the ground, much like in the nightmare. The surroundings were of his house too...
At least, the one holding him still wasn't the horrifying Herald of Doom. Though, his mom, heavily panting and disheveled, looked even scarier.
"Mom?" Jim called her softly, not sure what exactly had happened.
She didn't respond at once. Her grip on his wrists tightened, and she looked him straight in the eye.
"One question: who am I?" Barbara asked, her voice steady and stern.
"What kind of question is..." Jim tried to protest but bit his tongue, finally realizing how furious his mom was at the moment.
"Who am I?" she repeated. Her fingers felt ice-cold for some reason.
"Barbara Lake?" Jim responded with some confusion. "My mom?"
Luckily, it was seemingly enough as Barbara sighed with relief, letting him go at last.
Jim got up to his feet, massaging his wrists and wondering if he would get some bruises from that. But what the hell had happened?
It was as if his nightmare had reflected reality, at least partially.
His gaze traveled across the room, noting the signs of some fighting. In his dream, Barverra was the one who attacked, but here...
His mind refused to give the blatantly obvious answer. Jim stared at the bloodied knife and bloodstains on the floor.
Had he? No, no, no! That simply couldn't happen! He would have never injured his mother!
Yet it had to be the harsh truth - the one to explain all the weird stuff like Barbara restraining him or the state of the room.
Another look - and Jim had finally noticed a deep cut on her right thigh.
That one had to be his fault.
His mom slumped through the room while applying some pressure to the wound.
"Mom, wait!" Jim finally managed to get a hold of himself, shaking off the temporary stupor. "I'll bring the first aid kit - you shouldn't move!"
He cringed a bit at his own tone. His mother would have had no need for first aid if he hadn't injured her.
A bleak hope that it might have been some other reason for that cut was ridiculously naive.
No, he shouldn't have run from reality.
Jim failed to find the kit at first - it was as if his memory blanked, making him forget some basic stuff. His hands were shaking.
Fear.
Panic.
He simply failed to comprehend what exactly had happened. Why couldn't he remember the latest events? Why had he attacked Barbara to start with? Was it because...
You're a monster.
The inner voice whispered with a gleeful jeer. Jim shook his head in a futile attempt to silence it.
Barbara was sitting on the sofa, examining her wound with a grim expression. When Jim handed her the first aid kit, she didn't say a word, seemingly more focused on stopping the blood.
"I can help," he proposed meekly. A part of him expected his mom to yell, accusing him or something. Didn't she have a right to do that?
She didn't respond again, staring down and biting her lips. It was as if she tried to control her emotions. Or maybe look for some words.
"Kiddo," Barbara broke the silence at last, "just be honest with me. Have you found any weird stuff recently? Some suspicious-looking jars, perhaps?"
That was kind of random. Jim blinked several times, trying to process the question.
"No," he said with some confusion.
"Don't lie to me!" his mom raised her voice a bit.
"But it's not a lie!"
He wasn't supposed to yell back, but somehow all the stress was getting to him.
"Are you telling me that all of this happened just because? That my son was trying to kill me for no reason?!"
No, Jim obviously expected the accusation. It simply didn't hurt less because he waited for it.
Kill. Not 'injure' or 'scare'. It had been bad enough to be described with that word. If Barbara had been less lucky, it might have ended way worse.
There was not enough air. Jim tried to breathe, failing miserably, as the surroundings started blurring once again.
"Jim, oh gosh! I didn't mean... Jim!" his mother's panicking voice felt a bit distant.
The next second, he felt her warm embrace. Her hand started rubbing calming circles on his back.
Jim gasped, finally finding some air.
"It's my fault."
It was so faint, nearly inaudible, to the point that he wondered if his mother had actually apologized (why?) or if it was just his imagination.
They stayed hugging for a while, not saying a word. Jim was listening to Barbara's heartbeat. Was she still angry? He was scared to check her expression.
A knife wound wasn't something easy to forgive, after all, even if she might have claimed otherwise.
And obviously, not something he would ever forget himself.
After what felt like an eternity, Barbara released her embrace, returning to dealing with her wound. Any attempt to help was met with a curt 'no'. Her expression was... well, Jim wasn't sure how to describe it.
Blank, perhaps? He'd rather take angry or upset - that one was at least within the familiar range. The current seemingly emotionless state was just too uncanny.
"Jim."
Her voice made him flinch unwittingly. No, the tone held no annoyance or accusations, yet it was ice-cold. A bit authoritative too.
"Yes?"
"Nothing happened today," she continued. "You came back home, and I had a knife wound already."
Jim stared at his mother as if she had grown a second head. What was she talking about?
"You know how horrible I am in the kitchen. When you were in school, I decided to cook. The knife slipped - should be more careful next time!" Barbara finished, forcing a fake smile.
"Yet we both know it's not true," Jim said blankly, trying to process what he had heard.
"The outsiders have no need to know that."
No, of course, she was right - and Jim finally realized his mother's full intent. She tried to shield him even now, crafting a bit absurd story to explain the suspicious injury.
"You should forget everything. Pretend my version is the real one," Barbara said quietly.
And the dam was broken.
"Forget? How can I possibly forget stabbing my own mother? Trying to hurt you? Perhaps, even... Even kill you?!" he yelled.
That was it - all the stress of the past few days catching up to him, be it the search for a possible shapeshifter, the recent fight to the death, all people trying to get the truth out of him, or the growing rift between him and his mother. The realization that he also might have been the most dangerous to his dear ones was simply the last nail in the coffin.
Barbara was just standing there, listening to his outburst silently. Devastated. Defeated. For some reason seemingly so vulnerable and smaller than she actually was.
"And what should I do if... If it happens again?" Jim's voice cracked.
It was the horrible truth - his biggest fear right now, couldn't simply be Bular, Barverra, or an unknown changeling lurking around. No, he was absolutely terrified of the possibility of losing himself to those unexplainable violent urges.
"It..." Barbara started in protest and suddenly cut herself short. The pause was suspiciously long until she finished: "...won't happen again."
She couldn't tell that for sure - no one could, even Jim himself. Not to mention that her lie was so blatantly, so painfully obvious.
"You don't believe me." She stated with a sigh.
"I don't."
At least, Jim had managed to get a grip on his raging emotions. He was stressed and scared - but so was his mom. So why did he try to yell at her to start with?
"Jim, can you trust me with solving this problem? Like without any questions?"
He probably should have. That was his mother, his closest family, his protector. His hero. And not that long ago, the only possible answer could be 'yes'.
Not now.
Not anymore.
He could never allow her to face the monster that seemingly inhabited his mind. Especially after this day.
So, Jim stayed silent instead.
* * *XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The Void was livid. No, it wasn't as if all the previous Trollhunters had been friendly or at least civil with each other all the time before, but their last destination tended to be more or less peaceful, with occasional conflicts and disagreements.
Well, at least that was what Gogun claimed. Kanjigar couldn't tell that for sure - during his time as an active champion, he only visited occasionally, and staying here after the death had only proved otherwise.
Poor James Lake had unknowingly become the main source of the discord with all his misadventures.
"He isn't worth it! Are you blind or something?"
Spar the Spiteful had somehow turned into the leader of the anti-James faction. Well, knowing his difficult character, it might have made sense (plus the fact that he had never been a fan of fleshbags). Still, Kanjigar had expected Spar to take a more neutral stance.
After all, as the Second Trollhunter, he had held some weight among his peers.
"He is careless and can't even protect himself! He couldn't even slay that Gumm-Gumm! What Trollhunter couldn't kill one?" Unkar agreed, probably not aware of how ridiculous it sounded.
"You, for example," Maddrux butted in, voicing the fact everyone present knew.
Kanjigar nearly groaned. Why out of every possible deceased champion, the one to voice the support of their successor had to be the one considered the most deranged?
No, obviously, young James might have found more allies if all of his predecessors were present. Unfortunately, some of the more open-minded Trollhunters were trapped by Angor Rot.
"We aren't discussing my achievements right now," Unkar protested, more quietly this time.
"Unkar isn't the fine example of a champion," Spar said, giving Maddrux a dirty look. "His brief term as one proves it good enough. Let's not pretend that not being able to defeat an enemy without external help is a good standard. If Kanjigar's son had never interrupted, the enemies would have gotten the amulet already!"
And that one was impossible to argue against. Kanjigar would have been a total hypocrite if he had tried to pretend not to sigh with relief when Draal had saved the day.
If anything, as a father, he was proud that his son had made a mature decision instead of being petty for no reason.
Unfortunately, the fight involving Gomragg wasn't the thing that had sturred the Void. If only it had been that one - it would be way easier to calm everyone down.
But no, the problem lay elsewhere.
"The foolish fleshbag whelp has no sense of danger!" Spar continued his spiel. "Who in their right mind would take a treat from a suspicious individual? Moreover - continue ingesting more after feeling that something was off? After we warned him?"
Yes, that was it - the main issue everyone had. Young James had screwed a lot with that gravesand intake. It was a miracle that no one had suffered grave consequences. Yes, their refusal to cooperate and seizing control of the amulet was a factor, but...
"Our successor still did his best to minimize the damage," Kanjigar stated, knowing that part would be difficult to deny.
Spar seemingly agreed, but Unkar refused to see any common sense:
"Didn't last for long, though. And stabbing his own mother? The whelp has no willpower to lose himself that much!"
That was totally unfair. Yes, all the deceased champions could tell that had been gravesand's influence, but no one would know how much Young James had ingested. Not to mention that its effects varied even among trolls, and Kanjigar seriously doubted any of his peers was an expert on how it could possibly influence a human.
"He's lucky his mother is capable enough," Spar commented grimly.
Capable. Wasn't that quite an understatement? Kanjigar himself didn't know that many trolls, that would have reacted to the situation with more skill.
Quick judgment. No futile attempts to reason with someone who wouldn't have listened in any case. And actually breaking her son out of the graves and-induced rage without harming him.
All of that would have been quite an impressive achievement even for a troll warrior, let alone for a human.
Which led to a natural question of 'how'.
No, that wasn't the right time to think about that. Convincing his peers to summon the young Trollhunter to the Void mattered more.
And...
The bunch of stubborn troll warriors stayed true to their nature.
"Summoning him here? To tell about that impure with the gravesand? Are you joking, Kanjigar? Why should we do that fleshbag's work?"
"Aren't we here to guide our successors?" Kanjigar frowned. They had never been like that with him.
"To guide. Not to deliver him the information he could easily get himself." Spar snorted. "He's no fighter. We've gotten that already. But couldn't he, at least, think a bit for himself?"
Another day, another pointless discussion leading nowhere. Kanjigar wondered if he could request Deya's help, but she decided to stay out of everything for whatever reason - something totally uncharacteristic for her.
* * *XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Jim wasn't even sure if he was ready to stay alone after all of the previous events. What if the loneliness might have triggered another outburst of that unexplainable rage?
His mom's presence was soothing, at least.
On the other hand, what if he lost control with her still around?
So when Barbara left ('to the hospital' according to her) he felt conflicted.
The sun was setting already, meaning that his night obligation would begin soon, but...
Jim took the amulet, looking at it with some gratitude.
"Hey."
Someone who knew nothing would think he had gone nuts from the stress, talking to something clearly inanimate. Well, it wasn't the first time and Douxie had told him once it was more of a partner than just a piece of metal. Besides, today that one did its best to prevent Jim from committing an unforgivable crime.
"Thanks for trying to get me out of... that."
He still could recall that feeling of jolt coursing through his fingers. That time he had treated it as an annoyance, but...
"And thanks for not summoning the Daylight."
Jim shuddered imagining the otherwise scenario. The cleaver wasn't a harmless stick. He would have beheaded Ms. Shen. Most likely mutilated or killed some people in school. And...
His mom would never be able to block that one.
Absolute terror crept up his spine as Jim realized how close to the disaster he had been. Now he felt even more grateful to the amulet for not letting him endanger everyone.
His phone vibrated once, then once more. It had to be Tobes, sending messages non-stop. It had probably vibrated before too - just Jim hadn't been able to focus on that one.
He was absolutely terrified to check. What if he had scared Tobes? Or Claire?
The walkie-talkie came to life next, making him nearly jump.
"OK, Jimbo, either you come here now, or we all barge in!"
Toby's tone left no space for bargaining. Jim looked out of his window, taking a mental note of everyone in the opposite one.
Tobes, visibly annoyed.
Claire, giving him a small wave.
Douxie, with Archie perching on his shoulder.
And the hulking figure of Aaarrrgghh behind them.
Blinky, Zoe, and maybe even Draal - not visible, but something told Jim they were there too.
* * * XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Toby's room felt crowded and perhaps, even a bit pressing. Well, it couldn't be otherwise with two trolls, five humans, and a cat-dragon inside. At least, Draal wasn't around. 'Patrolling' as Tobes explained.
Jim was already slightly regretting his decision to come. No, obviously, he would hate all this crowd invading his house - if Barbara returned earlier and saw all of that, it would mean another shocking experience for her. No, she had definitely had enough for a single day.
However, all the worried and concerned gazes made Jim want to hide somewhere. He felt guilty for some reason and honestly was scared to hear any questions about today.
He knew nothing, could explain even less, and wouldn't even pretend that something like that wouldn't happen in the future.
So when Zoe approached with a nonchalant 'let me check', Jim failed to comprehend the meaning for some painfully dragged moments.
"Check what?" he inquired when his brain finished processing that.
"If there's any residing magic," Zoe said with a shrug.
"Let her do it," Douxie encouraged with a smile. "No one is better in detecting what is wrong."
Why would they even bring magic to start with? It was as if they were trying to excuse his feral behavior with an external influence, and...
What 'and'? Shouldn't that one be the best outcome for him?
But what if Zoe found nothing? What if it was his true, albeit repressed nature?
"Common, Jimbo!" Toby butted in as if sensing his hesitation. "People don't run around growling with glowing eyes!"
"What?!" Jim felt his heart stopping. He had no idea it was that bad!
"He only growled once," Claire disagreed. "Though, I can't deny glowing eyes..."
Great, just great. As if violent urges combined with partial memory loss weren't too much to chew already!
Zoe interpreted his sudden silence as agreement, closing the distance at once and touching his forehead with two fingers. She whispered a spell, and some faint whisps ran around Jim's body.
"Let this big sis handle everything," she said with a smirk, never taking her eyes away from the magical whisps.
Jim wished to ask some questions but decided against breaking her concentration.
The whisps changed their color several times, then blinked out of existence. Archie groaned for some reason.
"Well, congrats on trying troll coke, kiddo," Zoe commented. "Six-eyes, you've won the bet. Arch, good luck next time."
"Bet? What bet?" Jim asked, showing aside all the stray thoughts about the thing described as 'troll coke'. He had no interest in trying even human drugs - let alone troll ones!
"Nevermind," Douxie replied hastily as if attempting to prevent something. "Just Blinky and Archie had a heated discussion about what could possibly cause your state. Arch guessed it was something like mind control. And Blinky was deadset on the gravesand."
Gravesand. Jim already tensed even without knowing what exactly it was. On the other hand, something derived from the word 'grave' would most likely be something nasty.
"It's not that I am happy to be right," Blinky said with a sigh. "Gravesand leaves its mark in any case."
Aaarrrgghh growled in the background.
"What's this 'gravesand' stuff?" Claire asked curiously. Jim couldn't blame her for that question - apparently, most of their team had a good idea about that one. He, Toby, and Claire remained in the minority.
"Bad thing," Aaarrrgghh grumbled.
Well, Jim could guess at least that, seeing that Zoe chose to call it 'troll coke'.
"Ground troll bones," Archie said, still a bit irritated.
"Correction - ground Gumm-Gumm bones. There's a tremendous difference between the two!" Blinky frowned. "Since time immemorial gravesand has been ingested to loosen the inhibitions and enhance primal destructive urges. It works for both trolls and humans."
Jim shuddered, not liking the information he had just received. Ground bones sounded outright problematic even without all the effects. Bones weren't something you could get from a living being, meaning that someone was desecrating dead bodies for that.
And 'ingested'?
"I haven't taken anything like that!" Jim said. "It should have been some powder, yes?"
"You could easily be unaware," Douxie guessed. "It's not like you need to inhale it to work. It could be in some food or drink, for example. I believe that would make it even more effective."
"My only meal today was this morning. A burger and coffee..."
"We all had that," Toby added. "So it shouldn't be that... And in the school, we were more concerned with not sleeping."
"It couldn't be the morning meal. Gravesand works immediately." Zoe hummed a bit. "Trace your exact steps - when did it start?"
Claire and Tobes turned to Jim, their wide eyes full of realization.
"Ms. Shen's office!"
"Jimbo, what did happen there?"
"Well, nothing out of the norm," Jim started, hating to admit that his memories of that visit were blurry. "She wanted to talk, and then..."
Tea! It had to be that tea! He started to feel funny after taking a sip, and his condition only worsened after he finished it!
His expression probably was the best response to everyone.
"I guess, we've found another changeling," Douxie voiced everyone's thoughts.
Jim didn't even know what to think. It was such a relief to know that he didn't go crazy and simply fell under the influence of a vile substance. At least, that guaranteed he was no danger to his close people.
On the other hand, the enemy was closer than any of them could anticipate, meaning that the school wasn't a safe ground anymore.
"I thought the school was surrounded by the magical barrier," Claire said. "So how a changeling managed to enter?"
"We excluded the staff and students when we drew it." Douxie sighed. "But without that, anyone with slightly hostile thoughts wouldn't be able to attend..."
It would be dumb to blame Douxie - he and his team had been keeping the defense lines all this time.
"I've gotten careless," Jim stated grimly. He could blame only himself. Why not refusing that tea?
Ms. Shen - no, the changeling, - probably wanted him to lose control and run to fight Bular but had miscalculated his reaction. Meaning she would continue her schemes in the future.
"Actually, I think she would force you to drink in any case," Zoe's calm voice broke his reverie. Everyone stared at her.
"What?" She shrugged. "So that you know, I have some intel about the enemies. Was going to deliver some good news, but well, everything's happened..."
* * *XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
She smiled a bit at everyone's dumbfounded reaction and continued with an explanation:
"Arch and I went undercover last night. Thought about taking Casperan too, but thanks to his self-righteous prick of a master, his mug is on several hit lists. Can't risk like that."
Douxie rolled his eyes at the comment. That dork would have defended the Arthurian prick till his death. Though, Zoe would let it slide simply because that was a part of his nature.
She momentarily closed her eyes, recalling all the events. Yes, she could pretend it hadn't been a big deal, but the infiltration had been risky and reckless.
The underground bar usually gathered all kinds of magical creatures and wizards with ambiguous morals. Most of them didn't fit with the modern human-dominated world and would be happy to change their status. You could buy a lot of dubious magic stuff there or even hire an assassin, but it mostly existed to provide a place for changelings to connect with magic users.
Zoe had been there several times when the monster-hunting activities hit the wall - and each time she had received a long scolding from her peers at Hex Tech. But even then, she usually had talked to fellow magic users, avoiding anyone inhuman.
Last night, however, she had picked a dangerous target.
"So, I found a changeling with a love for glug and a tendency to blabber a lot once drunk enough..."
It sounded so easy now while being quite the opposite in reality. The changeling in question seemed difficult to approach, not to mention irritated. One misstep and Zoe might have ended as a dead body with no one even paying any attention.
"And luckily for me, like any abuser employee, he liked to complain."
Oh, 'liked to complain' was the understatement of the century - once the changeling had felt a bit secure, the dam had been broken. At some point, Zoe had even wondered if there had been anything he could have appreciated in his life.
The changeling had been scared to death by Gunmar, absolutely loathed Bular's methods, and found Barverra and her tactics too confusing and tyrannical. His human cover had absolutely sucked as it had involved co-living with another member of the Janus Order while playing a happy couple despite hating each other to the core.
He had complained about the stupid Trollhunter kid who somehow had managed to escape all of them, leading to some of the unfortunate losses within the Order's ranks. Unknowingly for the changeling, that had left Zoe with the first important piece of intel.
"The enemies still have no idea who you are."
Jim looked at her in bewilderment and asked:
"Really? But what about that troll Draal killed?"
"Either a coincidence - or he kept the knowledge to himself," Zoe replied. "Believe me, those guys trust no one, trying to secure as many trump cards as possible..."
"Great news, then." Toby beamed. "So - no more all-nighters lying in the ambush?"
"Not so fast," Zoe interrupted. "And here goes some not-that-nice news. While most of the enemies are still in the dark, someone knows Jim's identity for sure."
Oh, she had nearly dropped her cover when she had heard that one!
"Luckily for us all, that one keeps it to themselves," she added quickly, noticing everyone freaking out. "Alas, I wasn't able to learn their name. Only that they are a big wig in the Order and have connections..."
Knowing a changeling's name tended to give some good leads about their human identity. Those guys had an odd habit of deriving their new names from their familiars' ones.
Unfortunately, her drunk information provider had seemingly kept some secrecy even in a highly intoxicated state. He hadn't mentioned any names when it came to his brethren, using some aliases and nicknames.
And the big wig in question had been only 'scheming ass' and 'smug winged bastard' throughout the entire rant. Zoe hadn't dared to interrupt hoping to get at least some lead. In the end, she could have fished three facts.
One - the big wig had apparently seen the Trollhunter in the armor before the magic had concealed his identity. Or something like that.
Second - while they had been cautious, there had been some trusted goons who had been privy to the information as well.
And third - the big wig had some kind of complex relationship with Barverra as she both hated their guts and still kept them around.
"Wow... That's a lot to process," Jim muttered. He would have rather tried to recover from all the traumatic experiences of the last days, but his 'sacred obligation' gave him no space for the rest.
On the other hand, dealing with the imminent danger might have won them another period of calm. If they obliterated everyone who knew, there wouldn't be any emergencies. Any delay, however, would end in a bigger mess.
"So, our school counselor is that big wig," Toby guessed aloud.
"No," Claire disagreed. "She arrived later. There has to be someone else."
Jim groaned. It meant hunting not only one but two (or even more!) enemies.