Hello everyone! Here we are with the New Year update! 2024 has been a loop for all of us, mine was more on the average side lol. How was your 2024?

Here we are at the breather chapter, or transition chapter to the next arc! Of course I'm not gonna make everyone head into someplace new after barely getting out of the last one lol. By the way, I would like to thank everyone for the reviews and all the feedback! Very much appreciated!

I do hope everyone isn't too OOC here, this chapter went under a lot of edits before today lmao, let me know what you think either way! See you at the bottom of the chapter!

Disclaimer: Total Drama does not belong to me. The characters seen in this episode belong to their owners.

Episode 1.5: Come With Me

Esterházy Museum, Present Day - 1:30am

The Esterházy Museum was quiet, the kind of stillness that made every creak of the floorboards echo. The contestants had scattered to various corners of the museum to sleep for the night, and Ashe and Declan had found themselves in a small, tucked-away gallery on the second floor. The room was filled with faded portraits, old furniture, and an air of disuse, but it was better than nothing.

"At least we don't have to sleep on rubble," Ashe said, his voice breaking the silence as he dropped his bag on the worn rug covering the floor.

Declan smirked, glancing around. "Yeah, I've had worse. Though the creepy paintings staring at us might make it hard to sleep."

Ashe laughed softly and pulled out a folded blanket from his bag. "They're just paintings. If they start moving, then we panic."

Declan chuckled, setting his bag on an antique chair and beginning to unroll his own blanket. The dim lighting from a dusty chandelier above cast long shadows across the room, making it feel smaller, more intimate.

After a few moments of silent work, Declan looked up at Ashe, his expression thoughtful. "You always seem so calm, you know? Even after everything today—the earthquake, the portal, everything—you just... keep it together."

Ashe paused in smoothing out his blanket, glancing over at Declan. "You think I've got it all together? That's flattering, but not exactly true. I'm just good at pretending."

Declan leaned against the back of the chair, studying him. "Still, it helps. Having someone who doesn't freak out when everything's falling apart."

Ashe gave him a small, lopsided smile. "Well, somebody has to keep their head on straight. Might as well be me."

Declan's gaze lingered for a moment before he looked away, sitting on the edge of the chair. "I don't know what I would've done without you back there," he said quietly. "Honestly, Ashe, you've been the one constant through all of this. The one person I feel like I can actually rely on."

Ashe shrugged, trying to play it off, though he felt a subtle warmth in his chest. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You're still here, aren't you? That counts for something."

Declan smirked, his voice softening. "Maybe. But it doesn't feel like it would've been possible without you."

Ashe didn't respond immediately, focusing instead on setting his blanket on the floor. "Well," he said after a moment, "we're in this together now. That's what matters."

Declan nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He shifted his focus to his blanket, arranging it on the chair with less precision than Ashe.

The quiet settled back over the room, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt... familiar, like the kind of silence that only came with trust. Declan broke it after a moment, his tone lighter.

"Think they'll wake us up at the crack of dawn?"

Ashe snorted. "Knowing Sarika and Seema? Probably. Better enjoy the peace while we can."

Declan stretched out on the chair, his arms crossed behind his head. "If this is peace, I'll take it. Beats dodging falling debris."

Ashe lay down on his makeshift bed on the rug, his hands resting behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. The soft ticking of an old clock somewhere in the museum was the only sound.

"Hey, Ashe," Declan said after a few minutes.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," Declan said, his voice quieter now. "For... being here, I guess."

Ashe turned his head slightly, catching Declan's profile in the dim light. "You don't have to thank me. We're a team. That's what teammates do."

Declan hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Still, it means a lot."

Ashe nodded, letting the silence return. Neither said anything more, but the connection between them felt different somehow—not heavy or overwhelming, just... present.

The antique clock struck two in the distance, its chime faint but clear. Declan shifted on the chair, settling in, while Ashe turned onto his side, closing his eyes.

"Goodnight, Ashe," Declan murmured.

"Goodnight," Ashe replied softly.

The two drifted off to sleep, the events of the day fading into the background. Their quiet camaraderie was unspoken yet undeniable, a foundation built on trust and something just a little more, though neither would name it aloud.

The museum hallway was quieter than usual, the faint echo of footsteps reverberating off the marble floors. Setsuna was walking ahead, her mind seemingly elsewhere, while Evan trailed behind her, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his mind still lingering on the events that had unfolded in the past few hours.

The elimination still weighed on him. The image of Derek and Setsuna's hug, that moment of closeness—Evan couldn't shake it from his mind. But as he followed her down the hallway, a thought crossed his mind: it didn't really matter anymore. He'd voted the way he had, and Derek was gone. There was no turning back.

Maybe it was the intensity of the competition that made him feel this way, but at least he could move on from it. It wasn't like he needed to feel guilty about it, not when he was so focused on the game. Still, the brief pang of jealousy had stung, but Evan figured he could push that aside. His focus had to stay sharp.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed Setsuna slowing down a little ahead of him, turning slightly as if she'd noticed him trailing behind.

"You okay back there?" she called over her shoulder, her voice casual but laced with a hint of curiosity.

Evan straightened up, his posture stiffening a little. "Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking about stuff," he muttered. "You know, game stuff."

Setsuna raised an eyebrow, half-turning towards him with an amused smile. "Uh-huh. Sure, game stuff," she said with a teasing tone. "I'll believe that when I hear it."

Evan smirked, but his usual confident exterior was faltering a little. He couldn't quite shake the awkwardness of his thoughts, especially with how she was looking at him, her eyes gleaming with that playful spark. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to play it off.

"Don't try to hide it, Evan," Setsuna said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I saw the way you were staring at Derek and me earlier. You're jealous, aren't you?"

Evan stiffened, his lips pressing together in a thin line. The last thing he wanted to admit was that she was right, but she could probably read him better than he liked. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the redness creeping up his neck. "No, I'm not jealous. It's just, well... it's just the game, right? Whatever happens, happens."

Setsuna stepped closer, her movements fluid and relaxed, the slight teasing grin still on her face. "Uh-huh," she said, nodding knowingly. "But you know, there's no shame in feeling a little... emotional. I mean, it's natural, right?"

Evan turned his head to the side, now feeling the warmth in his cheeks as her words sank in. "I'm fine," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.

There was a moment of silence between them, the tension hanging in the air, and then Setsuna, with a sudden change in tone, decided to make the conversation lighter. "You know what's cool?" she asked, suddenly sounding excited, her eyes lighting up.

Evan blinked, thrown off by her sudden change in demeanor. "Uh... what?"

"DINOSAURS!"

Evan blinked. "Wait, what? Dinosaurs?"

"Yeah!" Setsuna said with a spark of enthusiasm, her eyes lighting up. "I mean, I'm an archaeologist, right? Dinosaurs are just... fascinating. The way they ruled the Earth millions of years ago, the way they adapted, evolved... it's like they had their own secret history. The idea of unearthing their bones and piecing together their stories? It's thrilling!"

Evan was taken aback by her sudden excitement. He'd seen her passionate about archaeology before, but hearing her talk about dinosaurs with such fervor caught him off guard. "I... didn't take you for a dinosaur fan," he admitted, shaking his head with a grin.

Setsuna laughed, the sound light and easy. "Why? Because I dig up ancient ruins instead of fossils? Don't let my profession fool you, Evan. I'm all about the ancient world—whether it's dinosaurs, ancient civilizations, or the hidden histories buried under our feet."

Evan couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "I guess I've never really thought about it like that. But I have to admit, your passion for this stuff is... contagious."

Setsuna smiled, pleased with his response. "That's the spirit!" she said, nudging him playfully. "You'd be surprised how many people are just fascinated by these things once they get into it. I mean, imagine being the first person to discover a new species. Or finding a completely unknown ancient civilization..."

Evan's expression softened. "I can see it," he said thoughtfully, "how exciting it must be. You get to uncover the past, bring it back to life. It's like you're rewriting history with every discovery."

Setsuna beamed at him. "Exactly! It's like being a detective, only your clues are thousands of years old." Her voice was full of pride, her gaze distant, as though she was imagining one of her many archaeological digs.

Evan found himself lost in the conversation, forgetting the tension that had built up earlier. There was something about the way she talked about her passion that made him feel like he could talk to her about anything. It was easy, comfortable. And more than that, it was genuine.

"Yeah, well, I'm not much of a history buff myself," Evan said, trying to shift the topic back to something lighter. "But I'm guessing you'd love to have a dinosaur skeleton or something, right? Maybe like... a T-Rex?"

Setsuna's eyes sparkled. "I'd love that! Imagine a full, articulated T-Rex skeleton in a museum. It'd be breathtaking. But hey, I'll take any dinosaur bones I can get my hands on."

Evan grinned, starting to enjoy the easy banter between them. "You're kind of a nerd, huh?"

She gave him a playful glare. "I prefer 'passionate'," she corrected him, her voice full of mock indignation.

"Right," Evan said, chuckling. "Passionate dinosaur nerd."

For a moment, the conversation just hung there, and Evan realized something. He didn't feel as bitter about Derek or the hug anymore. He was so used to keeping his emotions in check, but Setsuna's presence—her light teasing, her unexpected enthusiasm—helped him push everything else aside. He couldn't dwell on it anymore. It didn't matter.

"You know," Setsuna said after a beat, "you're pretty fun to talk to. You hide it well, but you've got a good sense of humor, Evan."

He looked at her, a bit surprised by the compliment. "Thanks," he said, though it was clear from the way he shifted his weight that he was trying to keep his emotions from showing too much. "I guess you're not so bad to hang around with either."

Setsuna smirked. "I know," she teased. "You don't have to tell me. But I'll take the compliment."

As they continued walking, the air between them shifted in a way Evan didn't fully understand. He had moved past his frustration, at least for now. The hug between Derek and Setsuna, the jealousy he'd felt, all of it seemed less significant now.

He didn't want to think too hard about it, though. Not yet. Not when they were in the middle of a game that demanded their focus.

Caren found Capone sitting alone in one of the museum's darker, quieter hallways. The faint golden glow of the paintings on the walls flickered like distant candlelight, casting long shadows around him. He was hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor as though it held the answers to questions he couldn't even put into words.

"Hey," Caren said softly, stepping into the room.

Capone glanced up, startled, but quickly looked away. "Hey," he muttered, his voice low.

She sat down beside him without asking, folding her hands in her lap. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

"You did good today," Caren finally said, breaking the quiet.

Capone let out a hollow laugh. "Did I, though? I mean, sure, everyone got out, but... I could've done more. I should've done more."

Caren turned to him, frowning. "What are you talking about? You kept Blair safe. You kept everyone safe."

Capone shook his head, his expression tightening. "Yeah, but it wasn't enough. I was supposed to be the guy who had it all together. The guy who could handle anything. But back there, in the middle of that mess? I wasn't enough."

Caren studied him for a moment, trying to read the emotions swirling behind his words. "Capone, nobody expects you to be perfect. You're not some superhero. You did your best, and that's what matters."

Capone leaned back against the wall, letting out a deep sigh. "You don't get it, Caren. I've been trying to make up for my screw-ups for so long, and no matter what I do, it never feels like enough. You think protecting Blair makes me a good guy? You didn't know me before this. I was a total douchebag. I ruined Cassandra's life."

Caren blinked, surprised by the admission. "Your sister?" she guessed cautiously.

"Yeah," Capone said bitterly, his voice heavy with regret. "Blair sort of reminded me of her. She used to be the best part of our family. Smart, clever... she had her whole future ahead of her. And me? I was the screw-up who couldn't keep his act together. I thought I was so cool, living life without rules, being reckless. But it wasn't just my life I was messing up—it was hers too."

He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "I took it too far, Caren. I embarrassed her, got into trouble, dragged her into my mess. She tried to stick by me, but I didn't appreciate it. Not until she finally had enough and cut me out of her life completely. I wrecked everything, and there's no fixing it now."

Caren's heart ached at his words. She could see how deeply his past haunted him, how much he regretted the pain he'd caused.

"Capone," she said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "You're not that person anymore. I've seen you put others first during our time in Budapest. Blair, your team... even me. You're not perfect, sure. But you're trying to be better, and that counts for something."

Capone looked at her, his eyes filled with doubt. "What if it's not enough? What if I just screw it all up again?"

Caren smiled softly. "You're not alone in this, you know. Everyone screws up. Trust me, I've had my fair share of struggles too."

Capone raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Like what?"

Caren leaned back, resting her head against the wall. "Five younger siblings," she said with a wry smile. "When my parents weren't around—and trust me, they weren't around a lot—I was the one who had to step in. Cooking, cleaning, helping with homework, breaking up fights... you name it, I did it."

Capone tilted his head, intrigued. "That sounds... intense."

"It was," Caren admitted. "Especially when I started working at a daycare. Juggling work, school, and taking care of five kids wasn't exactly easy. There were days when I felt like I was barely holding it together. But you know what? It taught me a lot. Like how to find strength even when you're exhausted, and how to appreciate the little victories."

She glanced at him, her expression softening. "I know it's not the same as what you've been through, but the point is... you don't have to be perfect to make a difference. You just have to keep trying."

Capone stared at her for a long moment, her words sinking in. Finally, he let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Man, you're really like a mom."

Caren laughed, the sound light and genuine. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Capone's face reddened slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, sorry. That came out wrong. I didn't mean to—"

"Relax, Capone," Caren said, smiling at him. "I get what you meant. And for the record? You're doing okay. More than okay, actually."

Capone's gaze softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to smile—a real, genuine smile.

"Thanks, Caren."

In one tucked-away corner of the sprawling building, Naila lay sprawled on a makeshift bed of cushions and a discarded tapestry. Her arms were flung out to the sides, her breathing slow and steady, as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Zuni wandered in, her footsteps soft against the floor. She rubbed her arms, the chill of the museum seeping through her jacket. She stopped short when she saw Naila lying there, her expression relaxing into a small smile. For a moment, she simply watched her teammate, the peacefulness on Naila's face a stark contrast to the chaos they'd endured earlier.

Shaking her head, Zuni moved closer, lowering herself to sit a few feet away. She stretched out her legs, leaning back on her hands. The tension in her shoulders began to ease as she allowed herself to breathe in the quiet.

But just as Zuni closed her eyes, Naila's voice broke through the stillness, soft but playful.

"Knew you'd show up eventually."

Zuni startled, turning to see Naila grinning at her, wide awake.

"You're kidding me," Zuni said, exasperation mixing with amusement. "You weren't asleep?"

Naila rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. "Nah. Was waiting to see how long it'd take you to find me."

Zuni groaned, letting her head fall back. "You're unbelievable."

Naila chuckled, clearly pleased with herself. "What can I say? Gotta keep things interesting."

"Interesting?" Zuni echoed, giving her a look. "Pretty sure you just like messing with people."

"Maybe," Naila admitted, her grin never fading.

Despite herself, Zuni smiled, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"Thanks," Naila said cheerfully, flopping back onto her cushions.

For a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence. Zuni let herself relax again, her eyes drifting to the ornate ceiling above them. She could feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at her, but something about Naila's carefree energy kept her awake.

"You're always like this, aren't you?" Zuni said suddenly, her tone thoughtful.

"Like what?" Naila asked, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Unbothered," Zuni said. "Like nothing fazes you."

Naila opened one eye, giving Zuni a curious look. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Zuni said quickly. "It's just… different. I don't get how you do it."

Naila shrugged, her gaze turning distant for a moment. "I guess I just figure, why waste time worrying? Life's more fun when you don't take it too seriously."

Zuni let out a soft laugh. "That's one way to look at it."

"You should try it," Naila said, her grin returning. "Might loosen you up a bit."

Zuni raised an eyebrow. "You calling me uptight?"

"Not in so many words," Naila teased, sticking out her tongue.

Zuni rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched up into a smile. There was something about Naila's lightheartedness that was infectious, even if Zuni wasn't sure she'd ever fully understand it.

"You know," Zuni said after a moment, her voice quieter, "you make it seem easy."

"Make what seem easy?" Naila asked, her tone curious.

"Everything," Zuni said, gesturing vaguely. "Getting through all of this. The challenges, the danger. It's like none of it gets to you."

Naila tilted her head, her expression softening. "It's not that it doesn't get to me. I just don't let it stick, y'know? Stuff happens. You deal with it, and then you move on."

Zuni considered that for a moment, her gaze drifting back to Naila. "You're something else, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Naila said, grinning.

Zuni shook her head, laughing softly. "Of course you will."

As the moment passed, Zuni shifted to lie down beside Naila, her body finally giving in to the pull of exhaustion. She folded her hands behind her head, staring up at the ceiling.

"Thanks for the laugh," Zuni said quietly.

"Anytime," Naila replied, her tone light.

Zuni turned her head slightly, watching Naila out of the corner of her eye. There was something about her that Zuni couldn't quite put into words. It wasn't just the carefree attitude or the way she could lighten even the heaviest of moods. It was the way Naila made her feel—like she could breathe easier, like the weight of everything wasn't quite so heavy.

Before Zuni could dwell on it too much, Naila let out a yawn, rolling onto her side to face her. "Alright, Zuni. Time to shut up and sleep. We've got another insane day ahead of us tomorrow."

Zuni laughed softly. "Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Naila."

"Night, Zuni," Naila mumbled, her voice already thick with sleep.

As Zuni closed her eyes, the thought lingered in the back of her mind: Naila made her feel free. And maybe, just maybe, that was something worth holding onto.

Elisia winced as she pressed the insulin syringe against her arm, the needle missing its mark slightly—too shallow. She gritted her teeth, pulling it out with a sharp exhale. Blood dotted the injection site, staining her sweater. Her fingers fumbled to clean the area when a faint, commanding voice broke the silence.

"Petra! Κάτω!" (Petra! Down!)

Elisia froze. She knew that voice— she knew who that was even if she didn't understand anything. A falcon swooped gracefully overhead, responding to the familiar command. Sure enough, Xerxes appeared from around the corner, his usually composed face softened as he watched the bird circle back to him.

Her heart sank, and she hastily shoved the syringe behind her back, trying to mask the pain coursing through her arm.

"Elisia," Xerxes greeted, his voice calm but edged with hesitation.

Her frown deepened as he approached. For a rare moment of time, she did not even bother to think of culinary terms to elevate her word play. "What do you want?"

He stopped a few feet from her, Petra perching silently on his leather-gloved arm. His striking, stoic features carried a rare vulnerability. "I wanted to apologize," he said, his tone low but sincere. "For my way of dismissing you earlier. About my arm. I shouldn't have."

Elisia raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms (though her left arm still throbbed under the pressure).

"I wasn't trying to brush you off, especially considering our situation back there. But it's also just... not easy for me to talk about."

She softened, sensing the weight behind his words. "Oh, so… umm, what happened? …I'm listening now."

He glanced at Petra, stroking the falcon's feathers absently. "It was my mistake. I was training a bird when I was younger—just learning to command falcons. I gave her the wrong signal, and she... well, she took my arm instead of the lure." His tone was steady, but his eyes carried a flicker of pain.

Elisia's frown deepened with concern. "That must've been..." She hesitated, searching for the right word. "Horrible."

"It was," he admitted quietly, meeting her gaze. "But it taught me to be more cautious."

She studied him, surprised by his candidness. It was probably the first time Xerxes opened up, and she found herself seeing him in a different light—less rigid, more human.

But his sharp eyes caught something. His gaze flicked to her left arm, where a faint stain of blood seeped through her sweater. His expression shifted to alarm. "Elisia, your arm—you're bleeding."

Her breath hitched, and she instinctively backed up, trying to keep the syringe hidden. "It's nothing," she said quickly, her voice defensive.

But Xerxes wasn't buying it. His concern was palpable as he stepped closer. "Nothing? That's not 'nothing.' Did someone hurt you?"

She tensed, clutching the syringe tighter. "I said it's fine."

His brow furrowed, his usual stoic demeanor cracking. "Fine doesn't involve bleeding through your clothes." He turned as if to fetch something, but Elisia reached out, grabbing his left wrist.

"Xerxes, stop! I said it's fine!"

Her grip was firm, and her shrieking voice carried an edge of desperation. He froze, glancing down at her hand on his wrist. Slowly, she let go, placed the syringe back and retrieved a small gauze pad from her pocket, rolled up her sleeve to the injection site and pressed it.

He watched her carefully, his concern unwavering. "You're hiding something too."

Elisia sighed in defeat. "...It's insulin," she admitted. "I've been doing this since I was ten. I have diabetes—type 1. If I miss a dose, or if I inject too much... something bad could happen." she chuckled, her voice still in defeat. "Could be anytime now since we've been gone for two days and I missed yesterday's dose."

The weight of her words hung between them. Xerxes, who always seemed unshakable, looked genuinely startled. "You've been living with that all this time?"

She nodded, her voice steady but tinged with weariness. "Yeah. It's just... part of my life now."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn't say anything. Then quietly, he asked, "...Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Elisia's eyes flicked up to meet his. "Because I didn't want anyone treating me like I'm some fragile wine glass. I'm not."

His gaze softened, and he sat down to meet her eye level. "You're not fragile," he said firmly. "But you shouldn't have to deal with this alone."

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard, and she found herself swallowing the lump in her throat. "I've managed this long—"

"Barely," he countered, his tone gentle but insistent.

She frowned, unsure how to respond. But before the silence grew too heavy, Xerxes finally decided to entirely put his guard down on her. He reached out and slowly took her free hand, into his gloved ones. "Promise me you'll tell me if it gets too much. I mean it. I know this is your business, and I'll respect that. But I also... I want to help. However I can."

"Xerxes—" Elisia blinked, extremely startled by the unexpected gesture, from him out of all people. After a moment, she nodded. "Fine. But only if you promise not to tell anyone."

He paused, then smirked faintly. "Deal. As long as you don't tell anyone about my falcon mishap too."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Fair enough."

They sat in silence, the tension between them easing. In that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. They were both more vulnerable than they let on, but maybe—just maybe—they didn't have to face it alone.

Ian carefully poured himself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air of the museum's dimly lit café. The ancient coffee machine sputtered slightly as he worked, its groans nearly masking the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall.

Carmine walked in, her sharp gaze immediately landing on him. She paused in the doorway, arms crossed. "You're seriously making coffee right now?"

Ian flinched slightly at her tone but managed a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Couldn't sleep. Coffee helps." He gestured toward the steaming mug. "Want some? I, uh, brewed extra."

Carmine hesitated for a moment before sighing and walking over. "Fine. Might as well. Beats sitting around." She pulled out a chair at one of the small tables and sat down, her posture rigid.

Ian fumbled to pour her a cup, nearly spilling it in his nervousness. He placed it in front of her with a tentative smile. "Here you go. It's not great, but it's coffee."

She picked up the mug, sniffing it suspiciously before taking a small sip. "Not bad," she muttered.

Ian sat across from her, cradling his own mug in his hands. For a while, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a taut string.

Finally, Carmine broke the quiet. "Still looking for that watch of yours?"

Ian blinked, surprised by her question. His hand instinctively went to his wrist, where his watch used to sit. "Yeah. I, uh, think I lost it back in Budapest. It wasn't super valuable or anything, but..." He trailed off, looking a little forlorn.

Carmine reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a silver watch. She slid it across the table toward him without ceremony.

"Found it during the earthquake," she said flatly.

Ian stared at the watch in disbelief. "You... found it?"

"Obviously," she retorted, her tone dry and annoyed. "What, did you think it sprouted legs and walked back here on its own?"

Ian laughed at her remark and picked it up carefully, his fingers running over its familiar face. "Wow. Thank you. Seriously. I thought it was gone for good."

Carmine shrugged, taking another sip of her coffee. "Don't make a big deal out of it. It's just a watch."

"It's not just a watch," Ian said, his voice soft. "I've had this thing for a while. Saved up for it myself after I got my part-time job during college. It's, uh... kind of a reminder of how far I've come, I guess."

Carmine raised an eyebrow, her expression neutral but her eyes betraying a flicker of curiosity. "Huh. Didn't peg you for the sentimental type."

Ian chuckled awkwardly. "I get that a lot."

They lapsed into silence again, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional clink of Ian's spoon against his mug.

After a while, Carmine leaned back in her chair, her expression hardening slightly. "Attachment stuff like that never meant much to me anyway," she said abruptly. "My mom and dad got divorced not too long ago. Lived with my dad after that. He made sure we were happy, but... I don't know. That kind of stuff leaves a mark, y'know?"

Ian glanced at her, surprised by the openness in her tone. "I didn't know. That must've been hard."

Carmine shrugged again, but there was a tightness to her movements. "It was what it was. My dad was good to me, so I can't complain too much. But... it's probably why I don't get too attached to things. They don't last."

Ian hesitated, then said, "Well... I think it's cool that you found something solid with your dad, at least. Not everyone gets that."

Carmine gave him a skeptical look but didn't argue. Instead, she picked up her mug and drained the rest of her coffee.

"You're a weird guy, Ian," she said, standing up and stretching.

Ian smiled faintly, raising his mug in a mock toast. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't," Carmine shot back, though there was a hint of a smirk on her lips as she walked toward the door.

Ian watched her go, his watch now securely on his wrist again. Despite her sharp edges, there was something about Carmine that felt... genuine. He took another sip of his coffee, letting the quiet of the café settle around him once more.

Humbert sat on a bench in the museum's grand hall, his large frame hunched awkwardly as he tried to find a comfortable position. The bench, clearly not built for someone of his size, creaked ominously under his weight. Across from him, Mike leaned casually against a column, his arms crossed, his expression calm and composed.

"Man, these places aren't built for guys like me," Humbert grumbled, shifting again. "Feels like I'm gonna break this thing if I move too much."

Mike chuckled. "I guess being tall and built like a linebacker isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?"

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't trade it," Humbert said with a shrug. "But it's not all perks. Do you know how many times I've hit my head on doorframes? And forget about airplanes—absolute nightmare."

Mike smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah, I can imagine. Meanwhile, I can fit pretty much anywhere. Perks of being the average guy."

Humbert glanced at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, but you probably don't have people staring at you all the time. Like, I can't even go to the grocery store without someone gawking at me like I'm a circus act."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "You don't say? I mean, I guess it's hard to blend in when you're... what, six-six?"

"Six-eight," Humbert corrected. "And yeah, it's a little hard to be inconspicuous when you're basically a walking skyscraper."

Mike laughed. "Fair point."

For a while, the two lapsed into comfortable silence, the distant hum of the museum's lights filling the void. Then Mike glanced at Humbert, his expression shifting slightly.

"So," Mike began, his tone casual but probing, "you ever think about... I don't know, what happens after all this? Like, if one of us actually wins?"

Humbert shrugged. "I guess. I mean, the money would be nice, sure. But honestly, I didn't come here thinking I'd win. I just wanted to see how far I could go."

Mike nodded slowly, his gaze distant. "Yeah... but don't you ever feel like... I don't know, like you deserve it more than some of these other people?"

Humbert frowned, his brows knitting together. "I don't know about that. Everyone's here for their own reasons, right? Who am I to say who deserves it more?"

Mike's expression tightened for a brief moment, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... I don't know, man. Some people don't really seem like they're giving it their all, you know?"

Humbert tilted his head, studying Mike curiously. "You got someone in mind?"

Mike hesitated, then shook his head. "Nah, forget it. I'm probably just overthinking things."

Humbert didn't press further, but the brief flicker of doubt in his eyes suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.

After a moment, Humbert shifted again, grimacing as the bench groaned under his weight. "Man, I swear this thing's gonna snap any second. Maybe I should just stand."

Mike smirked. "Yeah, wouldn't want to add 'destruction of property' to your list of grievances."

Humbert rolled his eyes but chuckled. "Thanks for the support, man."

Mike leaned back against the column, his demeanor relaxed but his mind clearly racing.

"You know," Mike said suddenly, his voice light but calculated, "I heard a rumor about the elimination. Apparently, the next challenge might let the winners... choose who gets eliminated."

Humbert blinked, sitting up straighter. "Seriously?"

Mike nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah. Seema and Sarika didn't outright say it, but I overheard them talking. If it's true... well, it could change everything."

Humbert frowned, his gaze thoughtful. "That's... kinda messed up, don't you think? Letting contestants decide who goes?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe. But it also means we'd have to start thinking about alliances. You know, watching each other's backs."

Humbert glanced at him, his frown deepening. "Are you saying we should team up?"

Mike smiled faintly, his tone casual. "Just throwing it out there. I mean, you're a strong competitor, and I think we'd make a good team. Besides, wouldn't it be better to have someone in your corner if things get dicey?"

Humbert didn't respond immediately, his expression pensive. Finally, he let out a small smile. "I'll think about it."

Mike nodded, his smile widening. "That's all I'm asking."

As Humbert shifted uncomfortably again, Mike glanced down, his thoughts hidden behind a calm facade. Inwardly, however, he was already planning his next move.

Because the truth was, there was no such rumor about the elimination. It was a lie—a carefully crafted one meant to plant seeds of doubt and secure an alliance with someone as physically imposing as Humbert.

And as Mike watched Humbert wrestle with his thoughts, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction.

Sometimes, winning wasn't about strength or strategy. Sometimes, it was about playing the long game—and Mike had every intention of coming out on top. What an idiot, he thought.

Blair sat slouched on a museum bench, cradling her arm and muttering under her breath. Her elbow throbbed with every tiny movement, and her shoulder wasn't much better. The strain had been there ever since Gellert Hill, where the beam of light had pulled her, Naila, Zuni, Claudia, AJ, and Humbert into the sky. Being the farthest from the ground, Blair had taken the worst of the landing.

"Figures I'd be the one to take the brunt of it," she grumbled, leaning her head against the cool wall behind her. "Stupid pearl, stupid beam."

The soft patter of footsteps broke her train of thought. She turned to see Claudia approaching, her bare feet moving soundlessly across the floor. The moonlight filtering through the atrium windows gave Claudia an ethereal presence, the subtle shimmer catching on her dark curls.

"You wear pain like a heavy coat, Blair," Claudia said, her voice low and rhythmic, each word deliberate. "Why not let someone help you shed it?"

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Well, I did took a hard hit on Gellert Hill, you know, with the whole flying-up-into-the-sky thing, after all."

Claudia nodded thoughtfully, stepping closer. "The body, much like the earth, bears the scars of its trials. Shall I see what I can do?"

Blair blinked, caught between confusion and amusement. "Wow, that's... poetic. You didn't talk like this in the painting, you know."

Claudia's lips curled into a small smile. "Perhaps the journey left me with a mind more prone to wandering. But if it distracts from your pain, I'll speak plainly."

Blair snorted. "Yeah, that might help. My brain's too fried for riddles right now."

Claudia knelt beside her, her delicate hands reaching out with care. "May I?"

Blair hesitated for a beat, then extended her arm. "Fine. But if you make it worse, I'm not responsible for what I say."

Claudia chuckled softly, her fingers grazing Blair's arm with surprising precision. "Trust is a rare gift," she said as she gently probed the tender area. "But I won't break it. I think it's a strain—no fractures. I'll wrap it for support."

As Claudia reached for her bag, Blair watched her curiously. "Seriously, though, you've been talking all... fancy since we got back. What's up with that?"

Claudia paused mid-motion, her eyes twinkling. "Perhaps the weight of art and history around us inspires a certain cadence. Or maybe it's just my way of keeping things interesting."

Blair smirked. "Well, mission accomplished. You threw me off for a second."

Claudia grinned and resumed her work, carefully wrapping Blair's arm. "There. How does that feel?"

Blair flexed her fingers gingerly. The pain was still present but dulled significantly. "Better. Thanks. Guess you do know a thing or two about fixing people."

Claudia leaned back on her heels, tilting her head as if studying Blair anew. "You're stronger than you realize. Few could hold the Golden Pearl as you did, let alone bear the weight of the beam's power. It's no small feat."

Blair scoffed. "Strong? Brave? Let's not go overboard. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Perhaps," Claudia said, her tone contemplative. "But even those caught in the tide have choices. You could have let go. You didn't."

Blair glanced away, her expression softening. "I don't know. Guess I've been thinking about home a lot since all this started. My mom would freak if she knew what I've been up to—golden pearls, beams of light, the whole thing."

"She sounds protective," Claudia said gently.

"She is," Blair admitted. "She's all I've got, really. I just... I want her to be proud of me, you know? Instead of always worrying if I'm getting into trouble."

Claudia smiled faintly, her voice like a soothing melody. "A mother's pride is a quiet star, sometimes unseen but always present. I think she sees more of you than you realize."

Blair's lips twitched into a small smile. "You're good at this, you know. The whole 'helping people' thing. Ever consider a career in counseling?"

Claudia laughed, the sound light and musical. "My canvas has always been my solace, but perhaps there's room for more."

"Well, thanks," Blair said, her tone sincere. "I owe you one."

"Then I shall hold you to that," Claudia replied, her grin playful.

"Yeah, yeah," Blair said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Just don't ask for anything too crazy."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the faint hum of the museum around them. For Blair, the pain in her arm seemed a little less overwhelming. For Claudia, the night felt a little less lonely.

Angie hunched over a cluttered desk in one of the museum's lesser-used exhibit rooms, the dim glow of her small makeshift lamp casting long shadows across her workspace. Bits of wires, screws, and metallic parts were strewn about, and Angie's face lit up with a victorious grin as she made the final tweak to her invention.

"Perfect," she whispered to herself, holding up a small, glowing device that hummed faintly.

Behind her, a groggy voice cut through the silence. "Angie? What the hell are you doing up at two in the morning?"

Angie turned to see AJ standing in the doorway, looking like he had just rolled out of bed—or, more accurately, stumbled into the room by mistake. His hoodie was lopsided, and his eyes were half-closed, clearly still tethered to sleep.

"Working on greatness," Angie declared proudly, holding up her device as if it were a trophy. "What about you? Shouldn't you be off chasing ghosts in your dreams or something?"

AJ squinted at her, unimpressed. "I was trying to sleep, but now I'm here wondering why you think it's a good idea to play mad scientist in the middle of the night."

"Because science waits for no one, my friend," Angie said, her tone dripping with pride. "And guess what? You're just in time to witness a masterpiece in action."

AJ groaned, rubbing his face. "Please tell me I'm not about to get dragged into one of your experiments."

Angie's grin widened. "Oh, you are. Congratulations, AJ! You've been chosen as my test subject!"

AJ immediately took a step back, panic creeping into his expression. "Uh, no way. I've seen enough movies to know how this ends. I'm not about to get zapped or turned into some weird mutant."

"Oh, relax—" Angie said, rolling her eyes and grabbing his arm before he could bolt. "This is perfectly safe. Besides, it's an honor to be part of my work. Future generations will thank you."

AJ sighed, clearly defeated. "Fine. What do I have to do?"

"Hold this." Angie thrust the glowing device into his hands.

AJ stared at it suspiciously, turning it over like it might explode. "And what does it do exactly?"

"It amplifies energy signatures," Angie explained, her voice brimming with excitement. "Thermal, electrical, and—get this—paranormal energy. It's going to revolutionize how we detect and study unseen forces."

AJ's eyes widened. "Wait, paranormal? Like ghost energy?"

"Exactly," Angie said, her grin widening even further.

"You do realize I'm not exactly thrilled about ghosts, right?" AJ said, holding the device like it was cursed.

"Don't be such a chicken," Angie teased, flipping a switch on the gadget.

The device began to hum louder, projecting a faint green aura around AJ. He jumped, nearly dropping it.

"See?" Angie said smugly. "Completely harmless. And look how it tracks your energy. You're glowing!"

AJ cautiously moved his arm, watching the aura ripple. "Okay, I'll admit... this is kinda cool."

"Kinda cool?" Angie repeated, feigning offense. "This is groundbreaking! But I guess I'll settle for 'cool' coming from you."

AJ smirked, his initial nervousness fading. "You're really proud of this, huh?"

"Of course I am!" Angie said, crossing her arms. "This is what I do. I create. I innovate. And I don't need sleep to do it."

AJ chuckled, finally relaxing. "Alright, genius. You've got skills, I'll give you that. But maybe you should consider sleeping every now and then. You know, like normal people?"

"Normal people don't make history," Angie shot back, though her grin softened as she placed the device back on her desk.

As she tinkered with the settings, AJ leaned against the doorway, shaking his head with a small laugh. "You know, you'd probably have a field day with my ghost hunting stuff. Maybe I'll let you tag along sometime."

Angie froze for a moment, then turned to him with a triumphant smile. "Now that sounds like a challenge. Count me in."

AJ laughed. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. Ghosts aren't exactly as predictable as your gadgets."

"Oh, please," Angie said, waving him off. "I can handle anything—ghosts included."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," AJ said, stifling a yawn. "But seriously, Angie, you should get some rest. You've been at this all night."

Angie shrugged. "I'll sleep when I'm dead." She grinned. "Science calls!"

AJ raised an eyebrow and laughed. "You really aren't normal."

"'Course not." Angie said, smirking.

London, Present Day - 7:00am

Callista sat across from Shreya, her elbows on her knees and a thoughtful expression on her face. Shreya, still propped up on the cot, sipped the water slowly, trying to fight the fog clouding her mind.

After a moment of silence, Callista broke it. "Shreya," she began carefully, her voice soft but probing, "do you know where you live? Or who you live with?"

Shreya froze, her brow furrowing. She closed her eyes, trying to dig through the haze in her memory. Faces blurred in and out, fragments of laughter and voices danced just out of reach, but nothing solid came to her. She shook her head slowly, tears forming in her eyes.

"I… I don't remember," Shreya said, her voice trembling. "I don't know where I'm from, or who's waiting for me… if anyone even is."

Callista's lips pressed into a thin line. She nodded, her mind already spinning with ideas. "Alright," she said, standing up and pacing the small cabin. "Alright, we'll figure this out. You're not staying lost forever."

Shreya watched her nervously. "But how? I don't have anything—no money, no ID, nothing except this name tag." She held it up as if to emphasize her helplessness.

Callista stopped pacing and turned to her. "I know someone who can help," she said, her tone resolute. "They're in Basingstoke. It's not too far from here by train, but..." She hesitated. "We'll need to sneak on. I don't exactly have train fare lying around either."

Shreya's eyes widened. "Sneak on? What if we get caught?"

Callista smirked, the first hint of her usual confidence returning. "We won't. Trust me, I've done it before."

Shreya wasn't entirely reassured, but she didn't see any other options. "Okay," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Let's do it."

She glanced down at her damp and tattered school uniform. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked over at Callista, who was busy gathering their belongings.

"Callista," Shreya began, hesitating. "Do you… have any extra clothes I could borrow? I can't keep wearing this." She gestured to the ruined uniform, its once-pristine fabric now shredded and soaked.

Callista paused and looked at her, then nodded. "Yeah, I've got something." She pulled her backpack closer, rummaging through it before pulling out a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black hoodie. "It's not fancy, but it's dry and clean. Should do the trick."

Shreya took the clothes gratefully, slipping behind a small makeshift curtain Callista had hung up for privacy. When she emerged, the hoodie hung loosely on her small frame, and she had to roll the waistband of the sweatpants to keep them from sliding off.

Callista gave her a once-over and smirked. "Not bad. Now you look less like a lost schoolgirl and more like… well, someone I'd hang out with."

Shreya offered a weak smile, still feeling out of place but grateful for the gesture. "Thanks, Callista. I mean it."

"Don't get all mushy on me," Callista said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "We've got to get moving. We're heading to Basingstoke."

The next hour, after making sure Shreya could stand and walk without collapsing, the two girls set out. Callista kept a protective hand on Shreya's arm as they made their way toward the nearest train station, her eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of trouble.

The station was bustling with people, a mix of commuters and travelers. Callista led Shreya to a quieter corner, crouching behind a stack of luggage carts as she studied the platform. A train bound for Basingstoke sat waiting, its doors open as passengers boarded.

"Here's the plan," Callista whispered. "We'll wait until the last second, then slip on with the crowd. Stay close to me, and whatever you do, don't make eye contact with anyone in a uniform."

Shreya nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.

When the boarding call sounded, Callista grabbed Shreya's hand and pulled her toward the train. They blended in with the crowd, slipping through the doors just as they began to close. Callista led Shreya to an empty spot near the back of the carriage, keeping her head down and her voice low.

"See?" Callista said with a small grin. "Easy."

Shreya, clutching the seat in front of her, wasn't so sure. "What if they check tickets?"

"They won't," Callista said confidently. "This isn't the first time I've done this, remember?"

Shreya didn't reply, but she couldn't shake the knot of anxiety in her stomach.

The train ride was tense. Shreya kept glancing around nervously, while Callista remained calm and alert. When a conductor entered the carriage, Callista immediately nudged Shreya and motioned for her to follow. They slipped quietly to the next carriage, avoiding detection.

By the time the train pulled into Basingstoke, Shreya felt like her nerves were shot. She followed Callista off the train, relief flooding her as they blended into the bustling station crowd.

"See? Told you we'd make it," Callista said, her tone teasing but warm.

Shreya managed a shaky smile. "You're braver than I'll ever be."

Callista shook her head. "You'll get there," she said, her tone carrying a rare softness. "Now, let's go find some help."

The two girls walked side by side along the quiet streets of Basingstoke, the morning sunlight casting long shadows on the pavement. Callista kept a brisk pace, her eyes scanning their surroundings, but Shreya struggled to keep up.

Her stomach churned with an empty ache, the hunger she'd been trying to ignore now clawing at her insides. Her legs felt like they were made of lead, each step heavier than the last. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, trying to quell the sharp pangs, but they only grew worse.

"Callista…" Shreya's voice was faint, almost drowned out by the sounds of the town waking up around them.

Callista glanced over her shoulder, noticing the strain on Shreya's face. "What's wrong?" she asked, slowing her pace.

"I…" Shreya opened her mouth to speak, but her vision swam, the buildings around her blurring into indistinct shapes. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she stumbled, barely catching herself on a nearby lamppost.

"Shreya!" Callista rushed to her side, gripping her arm to steady her.

Shreya's breathing was shallow, her skin pale and clammy. She tried to speak, but her words came out as a soft whisper. "I… I haven't eaten… I feel…"

Before she could finish, her knees buckled, and her body slumped forward. Callista barely managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

"Shreya!" Callista shook her gently, her voice edged with panic. Shreya's eyes fluttered closed, her head lolling to the side.

"Dammit," Callista muttered, lowering her carefully to the ground. She knelt beside her, brushing a damp strand of hair from Shreya's face. "You're burning up," she whispered, her worry deepening.

Callista glanced around the street, her mind racing. She needed to find food—and fast.

Basingstoke, Present Day - 8:30am

The Copper Kettle Bistro in Basingstoke was a warm escape from the chilly streets outside, its copper-accented decor reflecting the glow of soft, overhead lights. Derek, wearing a slightly wrinkled black apron over a waiter's uniform, balanced a tray of drinks as he moved between tables. It wasn't a glamorous job, but after his elimination, it was a grounding experience.

He sighed, adjusting his nametag as he dropped off an order. The hustle of waiting tables was a far cry from the eerie halls of the museum, but it kept him busy—and sane.

The chime of the entrance bell startled him, and he glanced toward the door. His eyes widened when he saw Ingrid walking in.

Dressed in an unassuming yet attire—a crisp white shirt and black shorts paired with her sturdy black boots—Ingrid looked nearly exactly the same as she had the night before. Her calm, unreadable expression hadn't changed either, though there was something about her presence that always made Derek uneasy.

"Ingrid?" Derek said, his voice laced with surprise as he walked toward her. "What are you doing here?"

She approached him, her movements precise and deliberate, and held out a small plastic card. "You forgot this," she said simply.

Derek took the card and glanced at it. His ID. He groaned inwardly, realizing he must have dropped it in the chaos of leaving Budapest. "Thanks. I didn't even realize I'd lost it."

"I found it near the Budapest painting," Ingrid said, her voice as flat as ever. "You're lucky it wasn't someone else who picked it up."

Derek chuckled nervously. "Yeah, thanks again. I guess I owe you one."

Ingrid tilted her head slightly, studying him with her usual unnervingly calm demeanor. "You've went from a haunted museum painting to waiting tables."

"Yeah, well," Derek said, scratching the back of his neck. "Not much call for ex-Total Drama contestants in the job market, you know?"

Ingrid didn't laugh but gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. "At least it's honest work," she said, glancing around the restaurant.

"Yeah, it's not bad," Derek said, trying to steer the conversation away from himself. "What about you? Still gardening?"

Ingrid's lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. "Always."

Before their conversation could continue, the door to the restaurant swung open with a loud thud. A girl with striking blue hair stumbled inside, carrying another girl who appeared unconscious. Derek's eyes widened as Callista, her face flushed with exertion, struggled to keep Shreya upright.

"Help! Please, someone help!" Callista called out, her voice wavering with desperation.

Derek didn't waste a second. He rushed over, guiding them to an empty booth near the window. "What happened?" he asked, his tone urgent.

"She passed out," Callista said breathlessly, easing Shreya onto the seat. "She hasn't eaten in days, and we've been walking for hours. I didn't know where else to go."

Ingrid followed silently, her sharp eyes scanning Shreya's pale face and limp form. "She needs warmth and food," Ingrid said calmly. "Her body's shutting down from exhaustion."

Derek nodded, already moving toward the kitchen. "I'll get something. Just hang tight."

Callista knelt by Shreya's side, brushing a strand of hair from her friend's face. "Shreya, please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You have to wake up."

Ingrid knelt beside her, placing a steady hand on Callista's shoulder. "She'll recover," she said quietly. "But you need to stay calm. Panic won't help her."

Callista glanced at Ingrid, her expression a mix of fear and gratitude. "Thank you," she murmured.

Derek returned moments later with a bowl of soup, a plate of bread, and a glass of water. "Here," he said, setting the tray on the table. "Start slow. Just a few sips of water first."

Callista nodded, carefully tilting the glass to Shreya's lips. The unconscious girl managed a faint sip, her eyelids fluttering but not opening.

Derek stood back, watching with concern. "You two look like you've been through a lot," he said. "Are you from around here?"

Callista shook her head. "No… we came here hoping to find someone who could help her."

Ingrid's gaze lingered on Shreya, her expression inscrutable. "You've come a long way," she said softly. "But it seems fate hasn't abandoned you yet."

Derek shot Ingrid a wary glance, unsure of her cryptic remark, but said nothing. Instead, he turned back to Callista. "You're safe here," he said. "Take your time."

The warmth of the restaurant and the kindness of strangers offered a fragile sense of hope as the trio settled into the moment, united by an unexpected turn of events.

To be continued…

And that concludes the breather (not really, thanks Shreya) episode! A lot of juicy interactions happened here, wonder how they will all fare out next time? What will happen with Shreya and Callista now that Ingrid and Derek are helping them? Next chapter will answer that!

By tomorrow, you may or may not receive a PM from me regarding the next arc. If you do, again, it just means I'm asking for the green light lol. If you don't, then it means your character is safe (for now)!

The Teams of Nights at the Hazy Museum

Team 1: Ashe, Blair, Capone, Caren, Carmine, Claudia, Declan, Humbert, Mike, Setsuna

Team 2: AJ, Angie, Elisia, Evan, Ian, Naila, Xerxes, Zuni

Next chapter, we are officially heading towards our second arc, 'Case.' Where are we heading this time? Or should I also say when? Heehee.

Find out on the next update, which will be on Sunday, January 5th! It will also be the last Sunday update sadly, unless there'll be any changes!

Happy New Year!

~Dawn