As he walked into the abandoned Frutti Music Bar, Ogron was filled with a desire to set a lot more than just the stock on fire. This was Roxy's father's bar. The Winx had shared so many happy memories here together. Roxy worked here. It was probably like a second home to her. He wanted to turn it to ash.

'So, we just…set a fire?' Anagan asked, glancing around the ghost town of a bar. 'That's it?'

'What do you want, Anagan?' Ogron snapped. 'I didn't make the goddamn plan!'

Anagan recoiled at the barely-contained venom in Ogron's voice, and Ogron flinched. He hadn't meant to snap, he was just still very much on edge. His muscles were still trembling from Neruman forcing him to bow, and his pride was almost mortally wounded. He just wanted to complete this damned task and get the hell out of here.

'Gantlos,' he ordered. 'Where are the warehouses?'

'I don't know,' Gantlos replied.

'What do you mean you don't know? We've been here before! You always know where things are! It's a tracker thing!'

'No…' Gantlos shook his head. 'You've been here before. I was left to get swarmed by rats and attacked by a newbie fairy. Remember?'

Ogron winced; right. Normally, he'd…well, not exactly acknowledge his error, but at least brush it off and move on, but he was far too on edge, his pride far too shaken to react with any semblance of reason or composure.

'Ah, yes. When you allowed yourself to be tricked by some stuffed animals and a dog and let the person we'd dedicated our lives to capturing get away. I can see why I blanked that from my memories.'

Gantlos visibly flinched at the remark, but Ogron was too stressed and exhausted to care.

'Fine. I'll just find them myself.'

'Ogron…' Anagan said tentatively. 'I found them. They're just here. Inside the fake boats.'

'Good.' Ogron stalked across the bar, clenching his fists as his legs shook. 'At least someone is being helpful.'

Gantlos and Anagan exchanged looks, before Anagan spoke up, his voice soft and hesitant. 'Ogron?' Ogron didn't look up from the door handle. He tried it. Damn. It wasn't opening.

'Ogron?' Anagan tried again. 'Ogron, is everything okay?'

'Of course, Anagan!' Ogron replied, his voice practically a snarl. 'Why wouldn't everything be fine? Except of course, for the fact that this bloody door won't…open!' He yanked at it, growling with frustration.

'Ogron…' Gantlos put a cautious hand on his shoulder. 'I can use my magic to open it.'

'Well bloody do that then!' Ogron yelled, stepping back from the door and gesturing to it. 'Go on!'

Looking decidedly unnerved at Ogron's vicious attitude, Gantlos gripped the handle, narrowing his eyes as the door vibrated with purple seismic waves.

Ogron backed up as he watched, surreptitiously leaning back against the wall, wishing Neruman had let him rest before forcing him to come here. His muscles were screaming… He wanted nothing more than to just sink to the floor and finally relax, but he just…he just couldn't. Couldn't let Gantlos and Anagan see. Couldn't tell them about the utter humiliation he'd been subjected to. He had never felt this pathetic, not in a long, long time.

His eyes narrowed as Gantlos continued to work on the door. It was only about ten, fifteen seconds longer than normal, and any reasonable man would be able to understand that that was really not a long time to wait to do something that wasn't even your idea in the first place, but Ogron had staggered his way beyond reason a while ago.

'Can't you get that done before the end of this century?'

'I'm trying,' Gantlos replied, his voice laced with quiet hurt. 'My magic is weak after Omega.'

'All our magic is,' Anagan murmured. 'Ogron, are you sure you're okay? You seem really upset.'

'Oh, what are you, my therapist? Last time I checked, I was the leader, not you, so if I tell you everything's fine, it's fine!' That was a lie. He wasn't the leader. He wasn't in charge of the team. He wasn't even in charge of his own life. His own choices. He swallowed back a wave of nausea as he remembered that, if Neruman so desired, he wasn't in charge of his own body.

He took a shaky breath, forcing his voice not to crack as he reluctantly pushed himself away from the sturdy wall that had so beautifully taken the burden of his body off his weakened legs. 'Just…just get it open.'

The door finally swung open, and Ogron strode inside, pushing past Gantlos in a desperate rush to just get out of there.

He glanced around, nodding as he saw the boxes of whatever it was Klaus ordered for his bar. As his chest heaved with raw emotion, he clung to the mental image of it all being turned to ash. He wasn't going to be the only one made to hurt.

He snapped his fingers, summoning a spark. He tried to send it onto one of the crates, but it fizzled out midair. With a growl of frustration, he tried again, but each attempt just created a spark no more impressive than a birthday candle flame, and his hands shook from the exertion and frustration. Anxiety started to build at his own magical weakness, and he mentally repeated Gantlos's earlier excuse to himself. My magic is weak from being in Omega…my magic is weak from being in Omega… But inexplicably, summoning thoughts of the place that had served as a frozen torture chamber somehow did not calm him, and his heartbeat raced, his breathing becoming shallow as he fought off the harmful thoughts beating down at his sanity.

There was the sound of snapping fingers behind him, and he started, whipping around to see Gantlos carefully cupping a small, merry flame in his hands.

'Where do you want it?' Ogron was just silent for a moment, watching the fire. 'Ogron?'

'What?!' His gaze snapped up, his eyes wide and haunted, and Gantlos looked at him with a gaze full of worry. Before Gantlos could ask whether he was okay, Ogron cleared his throat, looking away. 'Right, right… Over there. Just…set it on fire and let's get out of here.'

Gantlos dropped the flame where Ogron directed him, and Ogron watched as it took hold, creeping over the crates in a haze of red and orange, charring everything it touched. Someone would see it before it burned the bar to the ground, and that someone would call the fire department, and the fire would be put out. It would blaze high, destroy everything in its path, a seemingly invulnerable being, caring not for what it cut down, but just as it towered above it all, some mere humans with hoses would kill it. Strike it down, leaving nothing but charcoal and dying embers. He felt a strange and sudden desire to stay and protect it, to let it rise as it was supposed to. One of them should get to succeed…

'Ogron. Ogron, get away from there.' Ogron jolted with surprise as he felt the hand on his shoulder, starting to pull him away from the fire.

'…Huh?'

'Ogron. Seriously. C'mon.' Gantlos moved to take his wrist, guiding him away from the flames that were licking ever closer to his feet. 'I don't know what's going on in your head, but I'm not letting you get burned to death, okay?'

Ogron nodded, clawing his way back to clarity. '…Right…' He shook Gantlos's hand off irritably. 'I can walk on my own.'

As he walked out of the warehouse, he flinched to hear Gantlos mutter, 'Coulda fooled me.'

Ogron tapped his fingers against his arm irritably, impatiently waiting for Klaus and Morgana to leave.

'Just get out of the goddamn house…' he muttered, digging his nails into the bark of the tree he was leaning against as he watched the home.

Behind him, Gantlos and Anagan watched him cautiously, exchanging worried glances at his anxious, fidgety state. He knew he was worrying them, but he couldn't stop. Couldn't calm down. And he sure as hell couldn't tell them what was going on. He wouldn't be that weak.

After what felt like an eternity, the harried-looking couple rushed out of the house, starting the car and finally going to the bar.

'Finally... It's not like your goddamn livelihood is going up in flames.' Ogron crossed the street, not bothering to check for cars. He really didn't care if he got hit. A pathetic way to end a now-pathetic life.

Not having the patience to wait around for Gantlos to spell the door, Ogron simply opted for the rather pedestrian option of kicking it in. It was rather an easy feat as soon as he pictured the door as Neruman's face.

'Ogron…shouldn't avoid doing anything that could draw attention?' Anagan asked, stepping inside after him. 'We don't want anyone calling the police.'

'Screw the police. Just find the necklace and grab anything that'll make this look like a normal break-in!' He stalked upstairs before waiting for a response, stomping through the upstairs hallway. The necklace was probably in Morgana's room… He checked a room. No, that was Roxy's bedroom. Bathroom. He checked another room that seemed promising, until it turned out to be a guest room. Only one room left. Of course it would be the one he checked last.

As he rifled through the dresser, he didn't bother to worry about leaving fingerprints; he was hardly on record with the police.

'Nothing…' he muttered, panic starting to rise. 'Nothing!' No…it had to be here. He had to find it. He couldn't handle whatever Neruman would do to him if he failed. A few impudent words had earned him hours of back-breaking paralysis; who knew what punishment Neruman would dole out for an actual failure?

Ogron slammed the drawer shut, his hands shaking with fear and panic. He hadn't felt this helpless in a long time. He hadn't been anyone's pawn in just as long. He'd promised… He'd promised himself that he'd never take orders from anyone again! And now, here he was, less autonomous than ever, rifling through trinkets for a man who could quite literally play him like a shadow puppet.

'Dammit…' he muttered, staggering backwards and sinking to the floor, leaning back against the end of the bed. 'Dammit dammit dammit!' He pulled his knees up to his chest, shaking. 'Dammit…'

He'd been here before. Not geographically, he'd never been in Morgana's bedroom before, but…this. This feeling, this huddled, miserable position. He'd been here before, and the day he'd taken up the mantle of leader, he'd promised himself that he would never end up here again.

'I'm nobody's servant,' he muttered, but he didn't really believe it. He could lie to anyone, except himself. And right then, he needed his lies more than anyone. Needed to believe this was temporary. Just like last time. A childish part of him wanted to believe it was all a bad dream.

'Well, this is certainly pathetic.'

Ogron jerked back with shock, groaning as he slammed his head into the footboard. What? What was that?

'Down here…'

Ogron looked down and had to stifle a scream as he saw a twisted, sneering face painted across his shadow, leering up at him.

'Yes, there we go.'

'What…what are you…how…my…I…'

Neruman (because Ogron knew with complete certainty that this was Neruman, revealing yet another terrifying layer to his twisted spellcraft) snickered. 'Thought I'd check in. You know, I don't remember ordering you to have a panic attack…'

'That wasn't a panic attack,' Ogron muttered, looking away.

'Look at me, slave.' Ogron flinched, but refused, hugging his knees to himself and squeezing his eyes shut like that would make Neruman go away. 'I can force you…' came a sickly, almost sing-song voice, and Ogron reluctantly eased his way out of his protective ball, staring down at his shadow, now a medium through which his new master could taunt him.

'What do you want?'

'Well, for starters, I'd like you to address me with a little more respect. Unless you'd like to see the upper limits of your body…?'

Ogron swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice level. 'Why…why are you contacting me…my Lord?' The term of address made him shudder, but he kept eye contact, not wanting his gaze wrenched around for him.

'Just wanted an update, really…' Ogron recoiled as his shadow stretched out on its own. He felt terror wash over him, before realising that he wasn't being made to move. Somehow, that didn't make him feel much better.

'So…' Neruman, still wearing the guise of Ogron's silhouette, stood up, leaning against the wall. Or he was on the wall. He was only two-dimensional, after all. It was a…strange feeling, his shadow moving without him. His muscles ached slightly to move with it, and he felt somewhat hollow, but no force on Earth was getting him up until he was forced. He was just too tired.

'How's it going?' Neruman asked, as though the situation wasn't perfectly evident just by looking at Ogron.

'…I haven't found it.'

'Really?' The shadow hopped up to perch in the dresser, leaning forwards as though Ogron failing was some kind of scintillating gossip. 'That's very interesting. The former leader of the Wizards of the Black Circle can't find a trinket. Somewhat humiliating, don't you think?'

'Didn't we establish that what I think doesn't matter?' Ogron grumbled, rubbing his temples. God…he was so tired. He really didn't need to be verbally prodded at right now.

'Well look who's learning!'

Ogron groaned, getting to his feet. Maybe if he found the goddamn necklace, Neruman would get the hell out of his shadow and leave him alone.

Unfortunately, as he recommenced rifling through drawers, Neruman didn't move, just watching him.

'…Why are you still here?' Ogron asked after a minute. '…My Lord.'

Neruman shrugged. 'Well, since you proved yourself to be rather incompetent a fair few times against the Winx, I didn't think some supervision could hurt. But mostly, I just like watching the way your hands are shaking.' Ogron clenched his fists, trying to stop the the offensive trembling. He was unsuccessful, and was subsequently presented with disobedience from his lungs as his breathing became shallower. He ignored it, giving up on being even remotely covert and simply throwing items out of the wardrobe in his search.

'Well, good work making it look like a group of incompetent thieves ransacked the place.' Ogron ignored Neruman's taunting purr, continuing to rummage. His hand closed around a slender case, and he felt a brief, electric thrill. He pulled the case out, breathing as evenly as he could manage.

Neruman leaned forwards with interest as Ogron opened the box. Inside, shining merrily up at him as though to say 'I've been here all along; what took you so long?' was the jewelled necklace Neruman had shown them earlier.

'Well, looks like you're not completely useless after all,' Neruman said cheerfully, slipping across the floor to retake his spot where Ogron's shadow was supposed to rest. 'Grab a few other things so it's not obvious you were after the source of all her magic and get out.'

'And then what?' Ogron muttered, slipping the necklace into his pocket and grabbing the first things he saw. Despite being done in this room, he didn't make a move to leave. He wasn't facing Gantlos and Anagan until Neruman had got the hell out of his shadow.

'Head to that industrial estate where you started your fall from grace. I've sent another of my servants to collect the necklace from you.'

'Will he give us further instructions?'

Neruman nodded. 'Yes. Or, if you like, I can just contact you through this medium again…'

'No!' Ogron recoiled at the thought, and Neruman snickered.

'Oh, I'll certainly use this spell again. Not today, but sometime. It's far too much fun watching you like this.' The chilling red eyes shining out of the shadow blinked once, then disappeared. Ogron stayed deathly still for a moment, before hesitantly stepping back. His shadow moved with him. Neruman was gone.

He sank back onto the bed, exhaling with equal parts relief and terror. The mattress sagged under his weight, and a part of him loudly campaigned to just lie back, curl up and pass out. He was so tired… He was so miserable. He wanted it all to stop, just for a little while.

'Ogron?' He quickly leapt to his feet as he heard Anagan's voice. 'Ogron, we can't see it downstairs, did you-'

Ogron held up the necklace as Anagan walked into the room.

'Oh, great! You got it!' Anagan's eyes widened as he took in the scene of chaos before him. '…Wow.'

Ogron slipped the necklace back into his pocket, shifting uncomfortably as Anagan looked at him with concern.

'Ogron? Are you okay?'

'Fine. You asked before, and I said I was fine.'

'…Ogron…please…don't lie to me.' Ogron curled in on himself as Anagan crossed the room. 'What's wrong? You can tell me, you know you can.'

Ogron bit his lip, flashing back to being mocked and derided, prostrate before Neruman. He just…he just couldn't share that. Couldn't voice it. He wouldn't be that weak.

'For god's sake, Anagan, would you just drop it?' he snapped, wincing internally at the harsh edge to his voice.

Anagan flinched, but he didn't press any further, and Ogron breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't need to talk about this. Didn't want to talk about this. If he just ignored it long enough, it'd go away. It'd go away, right?

'Well this place certainly brings back memories…' Anagan muttered as they walked down the grimy back streets of Gardenia to the industrial estate where they'd hidden out before their defeat.

'Yeah…' Gantlos agreed, wrapping his arms around himself as they walked through where they'd all been together. Ogron winced, knowing that everything there was probably a painful reminder of Duman.

'Let's just get this over with,' he muttered, stalking inside the warehouse where they'd hidden out. Every movement in the shadows made his heart race, but he fought to maintain his composure, not willing to show what a nervous wreck he was to Anagan and Gantlos.

'Well it took you long enough,' grumbled a voice from the darkness.

Ogron jumped, earning concerned looks from Gantlos and Anagan, but he quickly shook it off, squinting into the shadows. 'Hello? Who's there?'

He blinked with surprise as a troll-like man practically waddled out of the darkness.

'Do you have it?' the man demanded.

'…Yes? Who are you?'

'I am Balazar, right hand of his evil excellency, Lord Neruman.' Ogron grimaced. Sounded like this man had the submissive servant bit down. Balazar was apparently done with the introductions, as he stalked forwards, holding out a hand. 'The necklace, wizard!'

Ogron pulled the necklace out, handing it over to the eager little claws that seized it from his grip.

'…What does he need it for?' he asked cautiously as Balazar inspected the jewels and Gantlos and Anagan regarded the man with trepidation.

'Nothing that concerns you, slave of darkness.'

Ogron rankled at the term. 'I just stole it. I want to know why.'

Balazar glanced up, raising an eyebrow. 'After Neruman's earlier demonstration of your new role, I'm surprised you would think to question your orders.'

Ogron flinched, and Gantlos frowned, speaking up. 'Earlier demonstration? What are you talking about?'

Balazar's eyes lit up with amusement at realising that Ogron was too humiliated to tell his friends about what had been done to him. 'I'm sure your 'leader' can tell you that.'

Gantlos turned to Ogron, his eyes filled with worry. 'Ogron?'

'Gantlos, just…just shut up,' Ogron gritted out, his entire body tensing. He didn't want to talk about this.

'I'm with Ogron,' Anagan chipped in. 'If we just stole this thing, I want to know why. Why does Neruman need a Major Source? And why Morgana's?'

Balazar sighed exasperatedly. 'You are all irritatingly impudent, you know.' He tucked the necklace inside his rotting ermine cloak, rolling his eyes. 'Very well, if your curiosity is truly so childishly insatiable, I will tell you. Being as knowledgable as you claim, you've heard the tale of Neruman, yes?'

All three nodded. A powerful but arrogant sorcerer from the Council of Light, who had attempted to achieve total immortality, but failed. His twisted experiments had robbed him of his body and had him exiled by the Templars into the Dark Dimension. For the first time, it occurred to Ogron that that was probably where their cell had been. Oh, that was disturbing…

'Well, our glorious master obviously wishes to return to this world. However, thanks to the…unfortunate side-effects of the spell he attempted to cast, he cannot return without a true body. His form is between life and death, and he must heal. How he does that is of no concern to you, and does not pertain to the necklace, so I will not delve into it. But, anyway, in my extensive research to liberate our master, I found a spell that will create a portal through which he can return as soon as he is whole, despite his banishment. The essence of a queen was a part of that spell. I had initially planned to simply rip the soul from some unfortunate royal, but this…' He held the necklace up to the anaemic moonlight, a slimy smile spreading across his cracked lips. 'This is far more practical.' He ogled the necklace for a few more seconds before stuffing it back into his cloak. 'Now, story time is over. Neruman wishes for you to remain here for now, as he feels it likely he may have need of you here once again.'

Ogron frowned. Why would Neruman need then in Gardenia again? Unless he thought they might have to fight the Winx? His stomach churned at the thought. He could barely stand. The idea of fighting made his whole body tremble with exhaustion.

'You are familiar with this place?' Balazar asked, gesturing at the warehouse.

Seeing Ogron seemed to be stuck in his own world, Anagan nodded. 'Yes.'

'Good. Remain here and you will receive instructions when Neruman issues them.' Balazar turned to leave, pausing momentarily before he exited the warehouse. 'Oh, and, just in case you get any foolish ideas about escaping our master's grip, be warned that he will find you. And trust me when I say you will not find his reaction pleasant or even remotely painless.'

Ogron swallowed hard, nodding shakily as Balazar waddled out.

'How would he find us?' Gantlos murmured in quiet confusion. Of course. He and Anagan had no spells on them. Meanwhile, Ogron knew exactly how Neruman would find them. He'd just access his spell on Ogron's shadow and find them in a heartbeat. Fear and nausea coursed through Ogron as he remembered that not only could Neruman find him, but he could do whatever he pleased with his body to stop him escaping.

In a panicked, exhausted haze, Ogron moved on autopilot, heading for where he'd slept last time they'd lived here.

Gantlos and Anagan exchanged what had to be their millionth concerned glance of the night, before Gantlos spoke up. 'Okay, what's going on here? You have been completely out of it this entire time! You're snapping and distracted, and we're worried about you.'

Ogron didn't reply, but he stopped, his back ramrod straight with stress and anxiety.

'Ogron…' Gantlos's voice softened, and he put his hand on his shoulder. 'We're your friends. Talk to us.'

For a heartbeat, Ogron considered doing as Gantlos said. Telling them. Explaining what Neruman had done. What Neruman could still do. Letting them take some of the weight of his burdens. But as he opened his mouth to speak, his fingers creeping reticently towards Gantlos's hand, towards taking it and accepting the support he so desperately needed, his pride rebelled. He pictured having to put his humiliation into words, and he just…he just couldn't. The words refused to come. So, in their stead, he spat the first sentence that came to his lips.

'I don't need you constantly harassing me over some nonexistent problems!'

Gantlos stepped back in hurt surprise, and Ogron winced. He hadn't meant to hurt him…

'Ogron…' Anagan tried, but Ogron was just too tired. Too raw.

'Both of you just shut up!' he snapped, his voice breaking. 'Leave me alone.' He whipped around and stalked towards his planned sleeping spot, leaving Gantlos and Anagan shell-shocked at his attitude. He felt guilt wash over him in waves, but it was mixed with an exhaustion so bone-deep that he couldn't be bothered to feel anything else.

Thankfully, Gantlos and Anagan finally seemed to give up on needling his emotional state, and they didn't follow him. A part of him wished they would. Wished they'd try again. Wanted their next question of if he was okay to finally break him. Wanted to burst into tears and let them comfort him. Wanted to feel safe. But they just left him alone. Just as he'd demanded.

The corner of the warehouse where he'd set himself up so long ago was still surprisingly similar to how he'd left it. It was dusty, but much the same. He could see the notebooks and pieces of paper upon which he'd scrawled many failed plans lying in the dust, a few strewn across the crate he'd fashioned into a bed with the help of a great many blankets and pillows, courtesy of Anagan.

Thinking of Anagan helping each of them set up their own areas of the warehouse caused a resurgence of guilt, and Ogron quickly changed his focus.

He should ideally try and get rid of some of this dust, but he was just too tired. With an weary groan, he collapsed onto the makeshift bed, not even having the energy to choke on the dust that flooded his lungs.

His muscles trembled with exhaustion as he finally lifted the burden of his own weight from them, sagging into the dusty sheets. The dust, now airborne, drifted into his eyes, scratchy and irritating. That was why tears were streaming down his face as he shook, sobbing quietly into the pillow.

He was back here. Back as a servant to someone who didn't give a damn about him beyond using him for magic and twisted entertainment. After Yllidith…he'd promised he'd never be this weak. That he'd never kneel to anyone ever again. And now he lay here, shaking after prostrating himself before yet another sadistic fool in a cloak that wanted to make him feel small and worthless.

'Well done, Neruman…' Ogron hissed through his tears. 'You succeeded.'

'Something is seriously wrong,' Anagan muttered, worried. 'Think we should try again? I know he said to leave him alone, but it's obvious he's hurting.'

Gantlos nodded, only half-listening to Anagan as he gazed around the warehouse. He hated being back here. It was as though every pipe and plank had Duman's name mockingly emblazoned on it. Couldn't Neruman have made them stay anywhere else?

Anagan noticed Gantlos's mental state, and his expression filled with empathy. 'Hey…you want to talk?'

Gantlos shook his head, taking a deep breath to try and keep control. 'No…thanks, though. I'm just…just not really…there yet.'

Anagan squeezed his hand, offering a soft smile that almost made a dent in Gantlos's grief. 'You'll get there. You'll be okay.'

'You almost make that sound believable.'

'Because it is.' Anagan gave him a quick hug, before heading to his own bed. 'Goodnight.'

'…'Night.' As Anagan's footsteps faded, Gantlos glanced towards where he'd slept while here. It was as dark as possible, and right now, darkness sounded pretty good, but… He looked to the truly precarious mess of crates where Duman had set himself up, and his feet moved instinctively. The stack was far more suited to Duman's lithe form than his own well-worked muscles, creaking slightly under his weight, but he ignored it.

Duman had loved sitting up here in his own little nest, surveying the rest of them. He'd dragged Gantlos up a few times, but Gantlos was a man most comfortable with his feet in the ground, so Duman had tended to come down to him. Sleeping up here was an unnerving experience, but tonight, he wouldn't close his eyes anywhere else.

It felt wrong to disturb the rumpled heap of blankets, the drifting dust feeling like his memories of Duman, fading away into the ether, leaving him lost and alone.

With a deep, miserable sigh, he curled up under the blankets, inhaling the phantom scent of the man he'd loved more than anything.

'I miss you,' he whispered into the darkness. 'I wish I could hold you. Just one more time. Everything's barely together, and something's wrong with Ogron, and you'd be able to help, I know you would. You'd say something stupid and random, and you'd get him to laugh, and he'd tell us what's going on. But now we're just…waiting to fall apart.'

'I miss you,' he repeated, his voice breaking in the still silence of the warehouse. 'I miss you.' He wished for a reply more than anything, but he knew he'd never get one. 'I love you… More than anything. And I always will.' He blinked back tears, before finally deciding he couldn't fight back his grief any longer, and they spilled over, streaming down his face as his breath hitched and he sobbed, silent and heartbroken.

Anagan could see something was seriously, seriously wrong with Ogron. It wasn't entirely unheard of for their leader to be somewhat short with them, especially when he was stressed, and being enslaved by a shadowy psychopath was certainly a stressful situation, but...this was different. Ogron seemed to be holding himself together with anger and snide comments, and he was trembling.

'Ogron, what's going on?' Anagan asked of the darkness as he settled in for the night. An old warehouse was hardly comfortable, but with sufficient soft furnishings, it was actually not a bad place for a decent sleep. Frankly, it was more restful than their cell in Neruman's hideout, if for no other reason than they could get up and leave. They had received a not at all veiled threat over taking such a course of action, but still. The door was right there. And that was all Anagan needed to relax, at least a little.

Staring up at the ceiling, Anagan found himself lost in thought, his worries whispering in his ears, each vying for his attention. Gantlos was bereaved, but incapable of talking about it. Ogron seemed on the brink of a full breakdown, but wouldn't tell them what was going on. Oh, and they were slaves to someone who wanted them to do who knew what random things.

'Thanks, universe,' he muttered. 'After an age frozen in ice, I really needed this. No, seriously, so helpful.'

He rolled over, choking on dust. That was it, tomorrow he was cleaning this whole place. He couldn't bring Duman back, and he couldn't fix whatever was wrong with Ogron (not without finding out what it was, at least), but as a minimum, he could keep them all from spending the next however long they were set to be here choking on dust.

As he started to drift off, his mind edged its way to what Balazar had said. Neruman's 'earlier demonstration' of Ogron's new role? What the hell had Neruman done? Whatever it was, it had taken most of the day, and left Ogron utterly shattered. Anagan wished with all his heart that he could take the pain away from his friends, but he couldn't. They wouldn't let him if he could, too guarded to let him in. Well, he'd just have to stay right here until they finally opened that door. He could wait.

Poor Gantlos. I promise, this isn't the full extent of acknowledging Duman's death, I just wanted to give it some attention.

And poor Ogron! Neruman is so, so creepy. I love giving his powers new, creepy elements. He has a ridiculous amount of potential, and the comics used none of it. *disappointed sigh* I promise, Ogron won't be this snappish for too long, he's just having a really hard time. And I'm mentioning Yllidith because this is the comics, so we're in the comics canon, and Coredetenebris on Tumblr pointed out that having to serve Neruman would probably bring back unpleasant memories of Yllidith for Ogron, which I'll probably do more with in the next chapter. And I did my best to explain why Neruman needed Morgana's necklace, because that was crazy random.