Ogron was losing. He hadn't accepted it yet, but the increasing level of panic in his attacks suggested he was more aware than he'd like to think.

'Hey, think fast!'

Ogron always thought fast. It was what allowed his thoughts to run away from him so much. But apparently this time, he did not think fast enough. Or perhaps he was just too weak.

Gregory's attack seared across his skin, eliciting a muffled whimper as it hit a very painful bruise that had not yet healed. The young wizard was fiercer than normal, his frustration over working so late bubbling up in his wild magic.

'Good…' Ogron muttered, forcing himself to unclench his jaw, act as though it was no more than a bee sting. 'But you aren't on my level just yet.' Wasn't he? Where even was Ogron's level anymore, other than rock bottom?

'You're right, Ogron…' There it was again. That same light, teasing tone Ogron had noticed today. Why? Why was Gregory acting like they were friends or something? It didn't make any sense.

'You're way below me!' A moment later, and he was. Ogron didn't even know how Gregory had done it. But he found himself staring up into the smirking face of the seventeen-year-old kid that had just knocked all the wind out of him and sent him tumbling to the floor.

He just lay there for a moment. Stunned. He felt the hard ground under him, the slight pain in his head from the impact, the severe pain across his entire body from the rest of the fall, and tried to rationalise it. There had to be a reason. Had to be! There had to be an explanation for how he could lose! But all he could come up with was that…he was weak.

Look at you, lying in the dirt. Weak. Get up or give up for good. The words, buried a long time ago, echoed through Ogron's mind, forcing him to his feet, stones scraping up his palms as he dragged himself up, focused only on continuing. On winning. He had to win. He couldn't be this weak.

'Did you see that?!' Gregory looked so happy. He'd won. Against Ogron. To him, this was an incredible achievement. A small, tired, broken part of Ogron wanted to congratulate him. Tell him how impressed he was. Say they should end it there, on such an accomplishment. But that part of Ogron could barely be coaxed into uncurling from its traumatised little ball, leaving his response to the hurt, angry, humiliated part of him.

'Yes, I rather felt it too. Do it again.'

Gregory's face fell, his achievement unacknowledged. 'But…'

'Your spell work was sloppy. Had that been a real fight, I would have obliterated you whilst you gloated.' Ogron didn't mention the positives. The positives had thrown him in the dirt. He wouldn't speak of them.

His body protested furiously as he forced himself back into a fighting stance, nausea battling it out with aches and pains to get him attention as his magic tried to cling desperately to the ground, not to be dragged up and out, but Ogron dredged up what trickle he could find. He was waning…so, so fast…everything hurt…so much…he wanted to pass out…he wanted to throw up…throw up, then pass out…he felt so lightheaded…should he have eaten more? He was barely staying upright.

The healthiest thing to do in that situation would have been to stop. Stop, and sit down. Maybe send Gregory to find Anagan. Barring that, simply collapsing to the floor would do in a pinch. But Ogron refused to listen to something as pointless as his limits. And so, magic clashed once again, in what would surely have been a dazzling display if Ogron was paying attention.

'Oh, come on!' Gregory snapped with exasperation, parrying the blows, his youthful, unstarved and unbeaten energy easily matching and outmatching Ogron's own. 'Ogron, it's like midnight!'

'It's…nine…' Ogron gasped out, a blast of magic meeting his stomach. His nausea very politely asked if now might be its time, but he ignored it, striving to keep going. 'We still have…the light…'

'You're f*#king crazy.'

Ogron met the floor again as Gregory overcame his paltry defences, his body barely putting up a fight, despite his mental screaming to get up.

Gregory's shoulders sagged, and he walked over, offering Ogron his hand. 'C'mon. It's late, you're getting destroyed. Come inside and get some sleep.'

Ogron hesitated, but batted his hand away. 'I'm fine…we should…'

'Keep going? Yeah, no.' Gregory didn't offer his hand again, stalking for the warehouse. 'Come in when you get your sanity back.'

Ha. Guess I'll just have to live out here, then.

He rolled over with a low groan. Everything hurt…it was hard to tell what was from being tortured, and what was from Gregory's training.

'I…hate…everything…' Where was Anagan? He wanted him…wanted him to help him up and push wellbeing on him until he started to feel semi-human again. But he knew, as soon as food or the offer of sleep was brought near him, he'd just push it away, drag himself back to his desperate battle to somehow survive this without beating the life out of himself once more.

Was this just his life now? Wake up, stumble through the day, get hurt and beaten down for whatever Neruman wanted, then pass out for a few blissful hours of ignorance? He was bound to Neruman, stuck…he was never getting free…Gregory would go someday soon, and then what? They just got assigned to some new task? Mere servants? He'd fallen so far he could no longer see his old pedestal from down in the muck.

He couldn't stay down here. Not in the dust, in the dirt. He was already in the metaphorical dirt, he wouldn't make it literal.

With a pained groan, he shoved himself to his knees, his body shaking, pleading to stay on the nice ground, the sweet tarmac that held his weight so nicely. What was he doing to his body? His magic had retreated back under his skin, very seriously threatening to go into hibernation if he didn't stop forcing it into action, while his head pounded with a thousand needles. Could he even get up?

No. No, he could not. He'd exhausted himself completely. He could get onto his knees, and no further. In fact, even his knees gave out, and he slumped back to the ground. Why…why was this happening? Why was he so…weak?

'Get up…' he muttered pointlessly, trying and failing to push himself up on his elbows. 'Get up!'

'My…' Ogron froze, his blood running cold as the frigid whisper caressed his ears like a predator toying with his prey to see how many bones it could break before the heart stopped beating. 'Even you don't heed your orders.'

'Go away…' Ogron curled in on himself, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the leering face glowing on his shadow. 'Please just…go away…'

'Oh, come now, why do you assume every time I visit is something bad?'

'Because you enjoy watching me writhe…'

'That's very true, I do. Frankly, that was the plan today…I'm bored, so I thought I'd toy with you for a few hours-' Ogron's heart tore apart '-but you seem too tired to scream, so…I suppose I'll just have to content myself with watching you lie in the dirt like an animal. Still fun, I suppose…'

Fantastic. So not only was he too weak to stand, but Neruman was sitting there. Watching. Relishing in his humiliation. He wanted to die. If he had the strength to get up and do anything, he might honestly give it a good go.

'Oh, look at that, it's raining!' Neruman remarked cheerfully. 'You're going to get soaked. And you're still lying there! Now that's commitment to debilitating weakness!'

Large, cold raindrops slammed into Ogron like bullets, already seeping through his clothes, drawing shivers. How was he still lying here? Get up!

'Are you going to sleep there?' Neruman asked curiously, finally finding a position from which he could smirk up at Ogron. 'Because you might get pneumonia and die. Which would be rather inconvenient for me.'

'No…' Again. Again he tried and failed to stand. Was Neruman right? Would he have to just lie here until he regained some semblance of strength?

'You know…' Neruman purred, his words belying a quiet excitement. He had some new idea…and when he had an idea, it never ended well for Ogron. 'I could help you out here…get you out of the rain…off the floor…'

Ogron frowned for a moment. How? How could he manage that? He wasn't here, he was just a…shadow…

'Not a chance,' he gritted out, shivering. 'I can get up on my own.'

'Alright then…' Neruman settled in to watch his pointless struggling, like an insect turned on its back. 'You really do look like you could use the help…all you have to do is ask.'

Never. Ogron would never willingly let Neruman take control of his body. Never, never, never! But…he'd also thought he'd never find himself lying in the dirt, having expended his energy in its entirety.

He stayed there, shaking in the dust, gradually becoming soaked to the skin, for at least half an hour. Finally, freezing and exhausted, desperate for sleep and some semblance of respite from the cold ground, he glanced to the shadow, waiting expectantly, as though knowing all along that Ogron would cave. Every moment of defiance probably just made it all the more delicious when he crumbled.

'I…' Bile rose in his throat ahead of the words, but he was a few minutes from making himself really sick. …Well, sicker. 'I…I need…'

'What is it?' Neruman purred, drawing closer. 'What do you need? Do you need my help, to drag you out of the dirt, like a little worm?'

Ogron's stomach heaved, and what was left of his pride screamed at him to just bear this, but he was too tired. '…I need help.'

'Well, what a delightful statement. But I'm not sure what you would like me to do about that…perhaps you could clarify.'

'Please…'

'Please, my Lord,' Neruman prompted, sitting back and watching as though this was some greatly entertaining movie.

'Please, my Lord…help me stand.'

'And how would you like me to do that?' Neruman wasn't making a move until he had wrung every possible drop of humiliation from the situation. Until he'd made Ogron beg for his own abuse. 'You know what to say, come on…'

Tears joined the raindrops as Ogron whispered, 'Please…use my shadow. Help me-'

'Make you.'

'Make me…walk. To somewhere I can…I can rest.'

'You're sure you wouldn't rather go on a three-hour run around Gardenia?' Neruman offered, and Ogron coiled in on himself, his breathing shallower than the sheen of water spread across the concrete.

'No…please…'

Neruman inspected him, his gaunt appearance, the dark circles under his eyes like an abused, traumatised raccoon, the tremor in his muscles, and sighed. 'Alright, alright…you aren't much use to me if you die of exhaustion. But let's just take a moment so that you remember that you asked for this. Begged me, almost.' Just as Ogron started trying to talk himself out of this, he felt his muscles go rigid. Even that little movement sent pain ricocheting through him, but he forced himself to stay calm. He made the desperate argument that, since he'd asked for this, it was better in some way. Like losing complete control of his own body was somehow okay.

Up. Slowly, almost painfully so, his body was lifted, pushed to his feet, standing and shaking in the rain. His knees begged to buckle, to send him back to the ground, but Neruman was in control now. He just had to let him move him as he pleased.

Every step was agony, using strength he didn't have to keep him walking. Neruman evidently knew a fair amount about the layout of the estate, walking Ogron around the longest way possible, unable to resist a touch of torture, even through his veneer of 'help'. By the time they finally reached the side door to the warehouse, thankfully avoiding anywhere the others might see him, Ogron was soaked to the bone and ready to sob until he died of dehydration.

His hand closed around the handle, his feet walked inside, and, finally, he got out of the rain. Not that it was massively noticeable, seeing as how he'd brought half a lake in with him, but still. He wasn't being actively soaked anymore, and he could live with that.

Neruman walked him across the space, the little corner of the warehouse he'd claimed as his own. There was his bed…so enticing…so warm…the chance to finally get off his feet, let his body rest…it was at his fingertips…

Neruman's control fell away and his legs buckled, sending him tumbling to the stone floor, yelping with pain and shock.

He fought not to whimper as he tried to push himself up on scraped-up palms, attempting to ignore the snickers from his shadow.

'Well, go on…I got you so close…you're not this weak, are you? So weak you can't take a few steps?' Ogron continued to struggle, and Neruman sighed in mock disappointment. 'Oh dear…well, I suppose you need more help. I think Gantlos is in here, I'll go find him, explain the entire situation, and he'll give you a hand. Won't that be nice?'

Ogron's heart sped up at the thought of Gantlos knowing what he'd just done. What he'd just submitted to, begged for. With the last vestiges of his strength, he forced himself up. As his head swum, everything twisting and warping around him, he managed a few staggered steps, really more a gradual, semi-controlled fall, tumbling into the mess of blankets, shaking and almost sobbing. He was so cold…so tired…he felt violated, even as he'd asked Neruman for aid.

Neruman waited, watching him expectantly, but Ogron didn't have the energy to speak. Not yet. He rolled himself into the blankets, feeling the fabric start to grow damp with the ocean he'd brought in with him. But they felt like a shield, a fabric protector against Neruman, against his weakness, against…whatever came next.

'Normally, when someone so selflessly helps someone as weak and useless as you, they get thanked,' Neruman remarked, sliding up and onto Ogron's bed. Ogron recoiled, shrinking away from the intangible touch, but he couldn't do anything about it.

'Go ahead, I'm waiting…'

The words would barely come, but Ogron feared the repercussions if he didn't say them. '…Th-thank you…'

'Any time! I do adore using you as a worthless little puppet.'

Ogron sighed miserably, burying his head under his pillow and praying that Neruman would just go away. Really, with all his experience with his luck, he shouldn't have bothered hoping.

'Why so weak?' Neruman asked, settling in as though they were at some odd kind of sleepover. 'I mean, you've always been pathetic, but you could stand…'

'I'm just tired…'

'Don't lie to me.' The words were calm, almost coaxing. The scratch across his face that came with them, on the other hand…no, not so much.

Ogron hissed with pain, and Neruman shook his head, as though this were all Ogron's fault somehow. 'I asked a question, and whilst perhaps you want to drag out my scintillating company, I would rather like a truthful answer.'

'I'm overtaxing my powers.' The words were monotone, tired. The sooner he answered this little interrogation, the sooner he could get away. The sooner he could sleep. Maybe even stop shivering…oh god, to stop shivering…he hated the cold. Could anyone blame him?

'Oh, how sweet…you're killing yourself, all for me…'

Ogron curled even further in on himself. If he shrunk into himself any more, he was at risk of forming a singularity.

'But…that is a rather unfortunate situation…' Neruman mused. 'I need you working on my new toy, so this kind of pathetic collapse is just inconvenient.' And painful, distressing and humiliating, but all of those probably read as pros to Neruman.

'Hm…' Neruman stretched out in Ogron's shadow, dragging the interaction out. 'What to do…what to do…oh…oh, I have an idea…' His inky form seemed to loom larger, and Ogron was struck with the primal instinct to hide under his blankets.

'How about a little favour? A boon from your benevolent master?' He had a benevolent master? Where?

'…What do you mean?' He was curious, even through his terror.

'I can give your powers a tiny little boost. Just enough to keep you off the floor. Like I did when I freed you. What do you say? And please do bear in mind that you will say yes, thank you. Say otherwise if you like, but I must warn you that it may not be as pleasant an experience.'

Well, with a sales pitch like that, wha could Ogron say other than, '…Yes. …Thank you.'

'Excellent!' Neruman clapped his hands, and Ogron's shadow started to glow with a deep purple aura. 'The energy will transfer to you when your shadow rejoins you. I expect you to use this power to train Gregory to the highest standard possible, or else you'll need it to even stand a chance at getting back up after what I'll do. Are we clear?' Ogron nodded, though it was really more the case of his whole head trembling. 'Excellent! Quick warning, this will knock you out and cause borderline debilitating migraines, but push on through!'

'Wait, wha-' Ogron didn't make it any further as his shadow rejoined him and Neruman vanished, leaving a sharp, blinding pain in his place that reduced the world to a blur, before reducing it to black as he lost consciousness, his head falling to rest on his pillow in what had to be the first good luck to happen to him in a very, very long time.

Why did his head hurt so much? Why did his body? Why was someone loudly yelling his name?

'Ogron! Hey, Ogron! Ogron…hey, do you even have a last name? Ogron insert-last-name-here!'

'No…' The words were slurred with exhaustion as he tried to swat the irritation away. 'Go 'way…'

'Ogron, it's like eleven. I dunno when you were planning to start training, but…'

'What?!' Ogron rolled out of bed in a blind, panicked haze, hitting the floor with a loud smack that he ignored as he scrambled to his feet, raking tangled red hair out of his face to stare at a very unnerved Gregory. 'What did you say?'

'That it's eleven? It's just that you got me up at six for the past week…'

'Oh no…no no no no no…' He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. His head hurt…it hurt so badly…

Right. The energy spell. Neruman had said he might get a migraine. It would be okay. He'd fought through migraines before. It was practically a talent. It would be okay. Well, aside from the fact he was up five hours too late. That was a disaster that was probably going to get him beaten, but one thing at a time. First, he needed to address Gregory backing away very slowly from his obvious meltdown.

'Ahem…sorry, Gregory. I'm alright, just…overslept.'

'That's quite the reaction to oversleeping…' Gregory muttered, but he stopped moving away. 'Normally I just go, 'Oh, dammit,' then get going.'

'Good idea. Let's get going.'

Gregory watched with mild concern as he strode towards their unofficial training ground, his steps steadier than expected. Looked like Neruman's spell had worked…

'You don't wanna eat first? Anagan got some bagels…'

Ogron's stomach growled pleadingly, but he ignored it. He'd wasted too much time sleeping already, he couldn't wait around any longer. If he got started right now, he might just escape Neruman's wrath.

'No, I'm alright.'

'Ogron…you basically collapsed last night. You gotta eat.' There was a rare, soft note in Gregory's voice. Concern. It almost warned Ogron's heart, but it had already rather overheated with panic and stress.

'I said I'm fine. Come on.'

'Give me a minute.'

Ogron turned to snap at him they didn't have a minute, but Gregory had already run off. 'Gregory!' When he didn't come, he stalked outside, muttering irritably under his breath.

The tarmac was still marked with signs of their battles the day before, though, thankfully, there was no sign of who had won those fights. Or who had ended up in the dirt…

'I'm here!'

'Finally. Come on, today I'm going to show you how to-' Ogron was cut off as he turned around to have something shoved in his face. 'What-?'

'Eat. You look like hell. Anagan's pacing back and forth with worry for you, and I can see why. I don't train until you eat this.'

Ogron glanced between the determined expression on Gregory's face and the bagel resting in his hand. He didn't have the time to eat. But he didn't have the time to talk Gregory into dropping this foolishness either…

'Fine.' He wolfed the food down in a few swift bites, unwilling to admit how good it felt to have food settle in his stomach. 'I ate. Now we can get started.'

Gregory sighed, nodding in agreement. 'Guess so. But there's something wrong with you.'

Ogron flinched, rather violently, but brushed it off. 'Today, we're going to learn how to teleport. It's very useful in a fight, allows you to surprise your enemies.'

Gregory grimaced, evidently recalling the last time Ogron had teleported. 'Okaaaaay…but isn't that like, super hard?'

'That's why we will be working hard. Now, the first thing you must know for teleportation is that you must know where you're going. You must be able to see it, picture it in your mind. The more distinctive the location, the easier it is. And the less likely you are to split yourself in half.'

'Wait, that could happen?'

'It's highly improbable. Now, look down. Take in where you're standing. Take a mental picture. Absorb every detail. Know it so clearly that you could picture it any place, any time. You could describe it to anyone, as easily as breathing.'

'…That's a lot of memory to ascribe to some tarmac with a dandelion growing through it.'

'It's important.'

'Yeah, right, I got it.' Gregory looked up. 'I can do it now.'

'Hm.' Ogron narrowed his eyes. 'Close your eyes.' Gregory did, muttering that this was a waste of time. 'How many leaves does the dandelion have?'

'Huh-? I…I…uh…I dunno.'

'How many cracks are there in the tarmac?'

'Dunno.'

'There are burn marks all across this area; are there any in your spot?'

'…Dunno.'

'So, pray tell, what can you tell me about the spot you claim to have memorised?'

'…It has a dandelion.'

'Anything else?'

'…No.'

Ogron nodded, telling Gregory to open his eyes. 'Memorising a spot is harder than you think, isn't it?'

'Why do I need to know all this?' Gregory muttered irritably. 'Can't I just think about teleporting and go?'

'And how will your magic know where you want to go if you yourself don't?'

'The Winx teleport without knowing exactly where they're going.'

Ogron rankled at the argument. 'They are using a transformation to do so. Not a spell.'

'Huh. That seems kinda unfair. How come fairies are so overpowered?'

'Because fate loves and cherishes them and leaves the rest of us to pick up the scraps. Now stop asking questions and focus on memorising your spot!' He tapped his foot irritably as Gregory dramatically rolled his eyes, staring down at his spot. This was taking too long…Neruman wanted Gregory trained to the highest possible standard…he wasn't progressing fast enough…and this wasn't filling Ogron with confidence.

Four hours. Ogron stood there for four hours while Gregory memorised his spot. Four hours of feeling his heart speed up and his breathing grow shallow. Four hours of feeling his temper rage to be freed and snap at Gregory to hurry it up. He could teleport without knowing the spot this well, but this was his first time. If he didn't have this picture, he could die, and Ogron couldn't let that happen.

'…Okay.'

Ogron's gaze shot up from where he was obsessively tearing up an unfortunate leaf whose path had blown it into his anxiety-riddle morning.

'Finally.'

Gregory frowned, folding his arms. 'Y'know, you could be nicer.'

'Don't snark at me, just tell me you know the spot.'

'Yeah, I got it.'

'Excellent.' Ogron stalked over, guiding Gregory a few metres to the left. 'Now, close your eyes. Picture your spot. Imagine every crack, every crumb of gravel, everything. Picture it as clearly as if you were looking down at it.'

'Okay, now what?'

'Now feel everything around you. Feel the air on your skin. Focus on the sounds you can hear. Now gradually let them fade. Let the image of where you want to go replace everything. Feel your feet on that new ground. Now, let your magic take over.'

Gregory took a deep breath, mouthing Ogron's instructions over and over, green energy gradually creeping up his body. For a few minutes, Ogron didn't think anything would happen. Why should it? Gregory was new. He wasn't at the level for this. Part of Ogron didn't want him to be. It had taken him months of study to get teleportation right. Gregory shouldn't be able to do it. But, to his warring shock and relief, Gregory's form flickered. Vanished. An ethereal image of him hazed into being over the spot he'd memorised, and Ogron's heart skipped a beat. It vanished a second later, and Gregory reappeared right in front of him, dropping to his knees and retching, whilst both locations he'd stood were cleaved open with devastating quakes.

'Holy…shit…that…was…not…fun…' He'd done it. He'd actually done it. The ground was destroyed, and he was actively throwing up, but he'd done it. But hardly to Neruman's satisfaction.

'Come on, let's try again.'

Gregory paused in his retching to glare at him. 'Kinda saying goodbye to my breakfast here! Give a guy a minute.'

Ogron bit his lip. They'd already wasted most of the day on sleeping and staring. He didn't have time to waste.

'I'm sorry, but…we need to keep going.'

Gregory stared at him incredulously. 'I f*#king hate you.' Nevertheless, as Ogron fumed, anger an easy fallback instead of his own guilt, Gregory staggered to his feet.

'Okay, go again,' Ogron instructed. 'Try from a bit closer this time.'

The afternoon passed in this manner. Gregory would try, fail, then throw up until his stomach was finally empty and he could continue unimpeded. Of course, he was rather impeded by the nausea, but Ogron was ignoring that. It wasn't that he was choosing to ignore it, per sé, he just had far too many things in his head. Gregory's state could take a number. It physically could not fit into his brain.

'Try again.' Ogron's voice was strained, his gaze flicking to the spot Gregory was yet to corporeally stand on.

'I've been f*#king trying!' Gregory snarled. 'I'm tired, I'm sick, and I'm about two minutes from just punching you to make you shut up.'

'Don't speak to me like that!'

'What, like you're a lunatic? Because you're acting like one!'

Ogron scoffed, his head pounding with a migraine that was giving the perpetual screaming in his skull a serious run for its money. 'The only way you will learn is through persistence. Now get up and try again.'

'No way in hell.'

Ogron's eyes narrowed. 'Stop lying in the dirt. It's weak. Get up or give up for good.' The words struck a nerve, but he didn't have time to identify it before Gregory stalked closer, his eyes blazing.

'I don't want to do this, Ogron! It's not working, it hurts, I'm exhausted, and I'm getting damn sick of your attitude.'

'I'm getting tired of yours! You will never learn if you don't work.'

'What the f*#k do you think I've been doing all day?!' Gregory demanded incredulously. 'Ogron, I'm tired, can we just…can we just stop?'

Ogron faltered, taking in how exhausted Gregory looked. His shadow seemed to twitch at his feet. It was likely just a cloud over the moon, but it was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. No…no, he couldn't stop!

'No. No, go again. Try from just a few steps away, and maybe this time you can actually manage to accomplish something.'

'Oh, f*#k you…' Gregory turned on his heel and started to walk away.

'Where do you think you're going?' Ogron demanded, the fear in his voice concealed with danger. 'We're not done.'

'I'm done. This is stupid, and you're a crazy person.'

'Come. Back.' The authority in Ogron's voice made Gregory pause. 'Get back here and keep going. I am your teacher, and you do as I say. Now, go again.'

'Fine!' Gregory whipped around, green energy flaring across his body with a burning fury. 'You want me to go again?! Here we go!' He vanished, reappearing in a wild blaze on the spot Ogron had told him to. Green fire whirled around him, the tarmac melting in a three-metre radius, while what was left shattered into a thousand pieces.

'I did it! I teleported! Are you happy now?!'

Ogron recoiled, stepping back in fear of the display of power, but his heart couldn't help its little elated leap. He'd done it. Gregory could teleport. These side effects, this destruction…Neruman wouldn't care about that. All that mattered was that Gregory could do it. He could teleport. Thank god…

'Do it again.'

Gregory's expression twisted with fury. 'Oh, you are kidding me. No way. You wanna keep going until you die, knock yourself out, but I'm going to bed.'

'Doing it once doesn't mean it's learned!'

Gregory yelled something rather unrepeatable back, and Ogron scowled. Further yelling didn't get Gregory back, so, with a snarl, he stalked after him, out of the moonlight and into the dim, flickering light of the lanterns Anagan had set up to keep the warehouse lit at night.

Anagan was sitting up, aimlessly flicking through a book he'd got god knew where. He got up the second he saw Gregory and Ogron come back in, his questions of how training had gone dying on his lips as he saw the fury on both parties' faces.

'Hey…what happened?'

'Your friend's a lunatic!'

'I taught you how to teleport in a week! Perhaps you could show me a little more respect!'

'I'll show you my fist if you don't shut up about teleporting!'

'Why you little-!'

'Hey! Hey!' Anagan rapidly got between them, pushing the two further apart, worry etched on his exhausted face. 'Cool it! Gregory, don't threaten violence! Ogron, what's got into you?' Neruman's power, because I'm too weak to even stand on my own.

'I'm trying to teach him, and he is giving me attitude and quitting.'

'We were at this all day!'

'It's called endurance!'

'I've got plenty of endurance! I've been enduring your god-awful voice all the live-long day!'

'How dare you!'

'Pretty damn easily!'

'Stop!' Anagan tried yet again to intervene, dragging the two apart. 'I don't know exactly what's going with you two, but take a few deep breaths, and calm down.'

'I'm gonna go calm down somewhere I don't have to listen to him blather,' Gregory snapped, turning on his heel and stalking for his corner, cracks forming under his feet as he walked.

'Gregory! Gregory, come back-' Anagan's calling was in vain, and he turned to Ogron with a sigh. 'Okay, what did you do?'

'What did I do?! I taught him to teleport, the ungrateful-'

'Ogron.' Anagan put a hand on his shoulder, gentle, steady. 'You…you seem frazzled.'

'I'm fine.'

Anagan very obviously didn't believe him. 'Are you still feeling ill? You don't have the energy for this, I saw how you were feeling-'

'I said I'm fine! I got some strength back, wasted half the day sleeping, I'm fine, I can walk and cast, now back off from the topic and leave me alone!'

Anagan stepped back in surprise at the snappish tone, but Ogron was too tired to care. His head hurt so much…but at least he could stand. He had some modicum of control over his own body.

'I'm going to sleep.'

Anagan tried to talk him into staying and talking it out, but he didn't listen. He was so tired…

His eyes snapped shut even before his head hit the pillow, and he pulled the blankets up over him, trying to block out the weak light stabbing at his brain. He could hear the faint sounds of Anagan trying to calm Gregory down, and he had no idea where Gantlos was, but so what? They could all handle themselves…he didn't need to care right now…

'Look at you, lying in the dirt…weak. Get up or give up for good.'

'I'm trying…'

'Not hard enough. Get up and go again.'

'I'm tired, Yllidith…can't we…can't we just…stop? Please?' Ogron yelped as careless fingers closed around his arm like a snare, dragging him up.

'The only way you will learn is through endurance. Develop a modicum of discipline, and perhaps you might stop being such a crushing disappointment.'

Hurt burned in Ogron's chest as he felt bruises start to bloom where the grip was released, but he bit his lip, forcing it back and away from sight, focusing yet again. He'd been working all day…he'd come so close to success…he was trying so hard…but all he'd earned from his mentor was derision and the constant repetition of, 'Again.'

'Do you remember what you must do, or did you vomit that information out?' Yllidith mocked, and Ogron just nodded.

'I…I remember.' Trying to focus through his trembling legs and almost debilitating nausea, he pictured where he needed to be. The spot he'd memorised. Worked so hard to know inside out. Every crack in the stone appeared in his mind, every tiny detail Yllidith had demanded of him.

He tried. He really, truly tried. He felt himself move, just an inch. He should have been elated. He was twelve. This kind of power, at that age? He was years, maybe even decades ahead of his peers. But he hadn't reached where he was meant to.

With a low, pained groan, he gave up, had to give up, tumbling to the ground where he'd started.

'Well, isn't this quite the pathetic display…'

'I'm so tired…' Ogron whimpered. 'Please…please, can we just stop? Just for today?'

'No.' Yllidith flicked his wrist and Ogron felt himself be lifted up and into the air, scrabbling to get his feet on the floor as he was deposited, upright but dazed, back on the ground. 'Try again, from only a few steps away. Perhaps you might be close enough to actually accomplish something.'

'I…I can't…'

'Can't?' Yllidith quirked an eyebrow, frowning at his pupil. 'Ogron, I will not invest my time and effort in a useless wizard that 'can't' do things. You can and you will. This is all you will be doing until you get it right. Now, try again. And this time, don't make me wonder why I indulged your mother and kept you around.'

The image flooded Ogron's mind to block out the hurt, and this time, he dragged even more magic to the surface. It hurt, it hurt so much that his skin burned, but it was enough. It was enough power.

He hit the floor again, but this time, it was the exact floor he'd been willing himself to. Pain exploded through his body from the impact, whilst inside he just felt empty, his magic taxed beyond belief. But he'd done it. He'd done it.

Delusional, he lifted his gaze to Yllidith, his eyes alight with exhausted joy. He'd done it! He'd actually done it! He'd teleported!

'Do it again.' That was it. The three, bored, monotone words were all he received. He'd worked himself to exhaustion, and…do it again. That was it.

'I'm so tired…' he pleaded weakly, starting to subconsciously curl up on the floor. It was hard, but he barely noticed…to sleep, just for a little while…

A hand knotted into his hair, and he was yanked back to awareness as it pulled him up with a sharp, painful tug.

'Ow! Yllidith…'

'Quiet. You do not stop until you can do this to my satisfaction, is that clear?'

Detangling himself from Yllidith with a whimper, Ogron nodded weakly. 'Mhm…'

'I did not school you into one who mumbles.'

'Yes, Yllidith.'

'Good.' Yllidith pushed him back, and Ogron automatically schooled his body into a tense stance, ready for whatever instructions came next. 'Now, do it again.'

A sharp pain practically split Ogron's skull in two as he tried again, and he let out a cry of pain, dropping back to his knees.

'Do it again.' The voice sounded different. Crisper.

'I can't…' Now his voice sounded off..he barely knew it…

'Do it again!'

He looked up, gasping and recoiling as he stared into his own cold, demanding gaze, glowering down at him. Dark hair flopped in his face, and a blink later, he was in his own body, staring down at Gregory, shaking and exhausted.

'Again.'

'Aaagh!' Ogron bolted upright, clutching his head and gasping desperately for breath. Everything hit him at once, a shower of stones beating against his distraught psyche. What…? What had he just dreamt?

'No…' He shook his head, in complete denial. No, that couldn't be right…he was just stressed, he couldn't be treating Gregory like that…he couldn't be…couldn't be like him…

'No…' Air. He needed air. Yes, air would fix this.

Air didn't fix this. All it did was marginally aid his gasping, gulping breaths as he staggered outside, sagging back against the wall of the warehouse and sucking in the deepest breaths he could muster. He could manage his own panic attack. He didn't need Anagan. He could stand on his own two feet. He just needed some air. Some air…now he just had to keep it in his lungs…

'I can't be like this…' he whispered into the night, staring out at the destroyed training ground where he'd worked Gregory to exhaustion. Offered not a word of congratulation on his accomplishment. Acted almost exactly like…him.

'Well, aside from the physical abuse,' he joked mirthlessly to nobody in particular. How…how? How was he acting like this? Was he so stressed that he was falling into the twisted role of his former mentor? He had to stop…

He took a deep, calming breath. Okay. Okay, he could stop. He could be nicer in training. He could compliment more. That was fine. He was nothing like Yllidith.

Except…that he was. He was making a weapon. Moulding and wielding Gregory against the choices the boy would make for himself. He was forcing magic he wasn't ready for, spells he didn't want, a future he didn't choose…just as Yllidith had done to him.

Nausea crashed over him, but this time, it had nothing to do with overtaxing his magic or the migraine. He was like him…he was like him…he was like him…and there was no way out.