'Why are you doing this, Sunbeam?'

Stella started, almost having forgotten Brandon was even in the room as she paced back and forth, waiting for her father to finish his press conference.

'…Pacing? I'm nervous, my dad isn't exactly champing at the bit to keep the guys that almost killed our planet out of Omega…'

'No, I mean…' Brandon sighed, putting his hands on her shoulders to ease her pacing before she became dizzy. 'Sunbeam, you know I love how sweet, and compassionate, and forgiving you are, and that you like to see the good in people, but…I mean, the wizards? You're kinda sticking your neck out to keep them from what was deemed a fair punishment before they tried to destroy your planet.' He glanced away uncomfortably, his eyes clouding with pain. '…You remember what happened last time we tried that? Last time we tried giving them another chance? Who we lost…?'

Stella bit her lip. She knew. She remembered. She remembered how much it had hurt. How f*king stupid she'd felt for trusting them. But…after what she'd seen…maybe she was naive, maybe she was just dumb, but no part of her could make itself be okay with sending them back to that frozen hell. If they deserved punishment, then Neruman had doled out plenty of that.

'…I'm not giving them a second chance, Brandon,' she said firmly, guiding him to look back into her eyes, to see her conviction. 'I remember, I know, I don't think we can trust them with one either…but I also…I saw what that man was like, the way he treated them, the marks he left behind…I can't send them back. …And…and I promised. I don't break my promises.'

Brandon nodded. He knew that. When Stella gave someone her word, it was a gift for life. He didn't agree with her. She could see that, anyone could, Nabu had been one of his best friends. She got the sense that he'd like to punch Ogron in the face, and she couldn't blame him. She didn't really want to think about what Aisha was going to say when they finally talked… But, despite his own hesitations and grudges, Brandon trusted her. He trusted her to make the right choice. And furthermore, he trusted in her judgement of character. He trusted her to look into someone's eyes and see their truth. He'd fallen for her compassion among many things, and he'd back that.

'…Okay, Stella. I'll back you, but…I can't promise your dad is gonna take your bleeding heart as reason enough to keep them out of Omega.'

'I saved him from Cassandra; I still got hero daughter points to cash.'

Brandon shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. 'I don't know if sentencing works that way, Sunbeam…'

'Well it should.'

The doors swung open, and Stella squinted in the thousands of camera flashes assaulting her and her father as reporters yelled questions at her father, still trying to ascertain whether or not they were all doomed and should start setting garbage cans on fire because what was the point in anything anymore.

'Enough!' her father's assistant Eos snapped, dragging the doors closed. 'Enough, the king is finished answering questions!'

'Sire, is it true the criminals were let in by your own daughter?!'

'Was this an act of treason?!'

'Can Solarian security really be breached this easily?!'

Someone caught sight of Stella inside, and every yell turned on her like a barrage of spears.

'Princess Stella! Your highness! Can you comment on the suggestion going around that you are advocating for a lighter sentence on the wizards responsible for this crisis?!'

'Were you really mind controlled?!'

'How well do you really know the Wizards of the Black Circle?! Is there more than amnesty to this choice?!'

Brandon gave the horde of vultures the finger as Eos got the doors closed, muttering expletives under her breath.

'Sire…you're going to have to give them a clear answer soon on the wizards' fate,' Eos sighed, and Stella's father nodded.

'Just…just get an Omega transport here.'

'No!' Stella interjected. 'Dad, we discussed this!'

'No, you caught me for five minutes as I was on damage control and told me you wanted them in our dungeons. Stella, I understand you like to live in your Winx Club world anywhere all villains are simply hurt children that need a hug and someone to listen, but I have a planet full of terrified civilians that want to know the criminals that threatened all our lives are being punished suitably.'

'But they aren't even the ones that threatened all our lives!' Stella snapped. 'They were being enslaved by Neruman, they didn't have a choice!'

'And do you have Neruman in chains before me?' her father sighed tiredly, his gaze already flicking to the doors and the next several meetings he'd need to hurry to. Well, those meetings could get screwed, because right now she had his time and she was clinging on with everything she had.

'…I…no.' But they would! They would, they had the intel that Ogron gave them, that had to be helpful. They'd stop Neruman, and then everything would be just fine.

Her father sighed deeply, pinching the budge of his nose. The sheen seemed to fall from his crown, leaving him looking grey and exhausted, a man carrying burdens she wouldn't fully understand until that crown rested on her own head. 'Stella…the people are scared. Put aside that Omega was deemed a fair punishment by the Council of Light, our people need to see someone go down for this! If we say we've simply placed the wizards in a cell because they were just puppets and the real mastermind is still out there, just waiting for some new pawns to do his bidding and threaten us all again, nobody will ever be able to relax! Solaria will live in constant fear until Neruman is apprehended, and, unless you happen to have a map to his exact location, that may not be for a long while.'

Stella stepped back, glowering at her father. She understood where he was coming from, and her people would always be her top priority, as they should be for any princess, but…

'So, to clarify, we should send the grossly abused wizards back to frozen hell that would set anyone off as suicidal, so that we can tell our unsafe citizens that they're safe, just to backtrack and blame someone else should Neruman come back?'

Radius faltered, but Stella kept up the pressure. If he had a problem with her argument, tough, this was how he'd raised her. A princess has opinions, and she backs them. 'Seriously, you don't even want to hear anything from the interrogation?'

'If you had anything pertaining to Neruman's whereabouts, I assume I would already have been informed.'

'…Well…no, not where he is…but he did something to Ogron's shadow and-'

'Stella, I have been over this. It does not matter, regardless of how in control of their recent actions they may have been, Omega is still their sentence from their prior crimes. The Council of Light agreed.'

Stella had been holding off on sharing this particular piece of information with her father, seeing as how there was a very, very good chance he'd simply brush it off as Ogron lying, which…well, based on past experiences, wouldn't…be the most outlandish of assumptions, but…

'The Council of Light has moles, Dad!'

Radius's eyes widened, and Stella thought she'd finally made headway, but they hardened just as quickly, doors slamming shut over her goals. 'Did he tell you that?'

'Yes, he did.' Stella didn't back down at the skepticism, and, worse, disappointment in her father's gaze. She knew plenty of members of the council that she could not only believe as traitors, but would in fact be explained so much better by it. That rat Givellian, for one…he was constantly causing anarchy.

'And you believe him?'

'Yes, I do.'

Radius groaned, and Stella could feel the disbelief in the sound. 'Stella…'

'Dad.'

'Stella, why would…why would you believe him? After everything that's happened?'

'Because…because…well, for starters, I just do-' Her father looked deeply disappointed in her, and yet she soldiered on. 'And also because it makes sense. Neruman went to Omega to get the wizards; how else could he have accessed that place, if someone didn't give him access?'

Radius faltered, frowning, evidently scrambling to think up a reason. Stella had to strike while the iron was hot, soldiering forwards with every reason she could think of, hyper aware that every syllable that left her lips had the power to tip the scales of the wizards' fates either into decent treatment and a future that didn't make them want to kill themselves, or…well, hell.

'The Council has contacted me thirteen times trying to convince me to hand the wizards into their custody, not to mention insisting that they be the ones to interrogate them, not me. Why would they care? Even if they think I can't manage an interrogation, it shouldn't be that important to them, unless there are things they don't want me knowing. The Council of Light has been suspiciously detached from a lot of the recent crises in the dimension; crises that create suffering and the subsequent negative energy that feeds Neruman. They have the power and resources, and don't tell me that they're old, because Faragonda is just as old and I've watched the woman scrap with Valtor. And, finally, even if we send the wizards back to Omega, it's been established that Neruman can get there, and set them free, and presumably then either kill them or enslave them again, and then we are back to square one.' She found herself breathing hard as her speech finish, and, to her surprise and elation, her father had ceased to look towards his later meetings, his attention now reserved solely for her.

'…What would you suggest, Princess of Solaria?'

Stella's breath caught in her throat. He only addressed her as such when the situation was serious. And when…when he wanted her to act with all the authority afforded by such a title.

'…I want to adhere to my promise. To get this information, I promised them safety from Omega.'

'That promise was not yours to make.'

'I think it very much was, I knew what I was doing. If you're not happy signing off on this based solely on my word, then…then hold a hearing. Have a trial, one here, no Council of Light, you make it all the way through that and are still so cold-hearted as to want to send them to Omega, then I'll break my word.'

Her father bit his lip, stroking his beard thoughtfully. '…I'm very proud of myself, you know.'

Stella cocked her head, confused. Was he in a different conversation? Was his Bluetooth on?

'…Why?'

A soft, warm smile fought a valiant battle against the frown lines worn into her father's skin as he placed a steady hand on her shoulder. 'Because I have managed to raise an exceptional daughter. You don't let something go when you're truly convicted, do you?'

Stella shook her head, smirking slightly. 'Not how I was raised.'

'In that case, I will hold a hearing in two days. I assume you will advocate for them?'

'You better believe I will. Prepare to be convinced.'

Her father's eyes softened, almost growing sad. 'For their sake…I hope I am.'

Stella watched her dad and Eos leave the room, keeping up a steady sunny smile, projecting the confidence that was almost always real. Except right now. Now she felt the tiniest bit like she might throw up.

The door shut, and Brandon began to offer a compliment on her argument, but it was rather suddenly cut off as she faceplanted into his chest, groaning into the taught pectoral muscles.

'I'm so screwed…how do I talk him into this with no freakin' evidence?'

'You're Stella Allbright; you'll figure it out.'

'I have no evidence, and no real plan beyond appealing to my father's stifled sense of humanity; how do you figure I'll figure it out?'

'…'

'Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck-'

This…this place honestly wasn't that horrible. It was a dungeon cell, so evidently no five star hotel, but with the state Ogron had come here in, no five star hotel was ever going to let him near it.

The cell was, as most cells tended to be, stone walls and bars, but it was clean, not so cold it set him shivering, with beds pushed up against the walls. Ogron sat down on one, twisting the fabric of the bedsheets in his fingers. Clean, and surprisingly crisp. This was…a decent enough place. He hardly wanted to live out the rest of his days here, but if he had no other choice…the relief of having a bed, of having a blanket, of having somewhere safe to rest his head, rest his aching, aching body…that was enough to numb the knowledge that he wasn't allowed to leave. Honestly…why would he want to? The outside world had Neruman there, it had all the people that wanted to hurt him, some for good reason, some because it simply amused them. He didn't have anything else to really live for out there anyway.

He lay down, rolling himself up in the blanket, practically purring at the warm fabric cocooning him.

'You seem to be feeling better,' Gantlos remarked, leaning up against the back wall, his hair still damp as he scanned the hall outside for any sign of danger.

'Mm…' The mattress gladly took his weight, letting him sink into it. His body, confused at first, used to a cold, hard floor that shoved rocks into his injuries, tensed a little at the feeling of comfort, but as no rocks or spikes assaulted him, it relaxed, letting him rest.

Anagan sat on the edge of the bed next to him, gently running his fingers through Ogron's hair, still damp from the bath. Ogron relaxed further at the touch, letting his eyes drift closed. He was so comfortable…this was so nice. He couldn't quite pinpoint the feeling in his chest right now. It…it let him breathe, slow and easy, it let him close his eyes, encouraged him to rest. A few minutes of peace brought the answer to him: safety. Despite his circumstances, despite the bars on the door and the guards that might very well run him through were he to walk out of here, he felt safe. He felt safe from harm, felt safe to rest and breathe with no fear of a beating or psychological torment. Nobody was set to ask anything of him, and he could simply…simply…rest.

'…What do we do now?' Gantlos asked, not taking his eyes off the hall.

'Do you not get how prison works?' Ogron mumbled into the pillow, perfectly content with not doing anything at all.

'Cannot believe I'm willingly sitting in a cell doing nothing…' Gantlos groaned, facepalming. 'This is so stupid…'

'You're the one that had Stella destroy Neruman's apparition so we could stay here rather than go back,' Anagan said calmly, a smile pulling at his lips as Ogron almost purred under his touch.

'Well, I mean, yeah, but that doesn't mean I have to like this.'

'You might like it more if you sat down rather than keeping watch,' Anagan suggested, gesturing to the bed Gantlos had been regarding like it might possibly explode were he to betray his stubbornness and accept any comfort offered by his enemies. He'd evidently opted to accept the offer of getting clean, but no human being could possibly stand to stay as filthy as they'd all been, not even to accommodate the nigh-on immovable stubbornness of the Wizard of Destruction. Plus, the concern that it might be less of an offer and more of an order that would be enacted with or without his say so had likely been playing on his mind.

Gantlos just offered the bed a grunt, rolling his eyes. 'Yeah. No. You two rest, I'm gonna keep watch.'

'So you can do what?' Anagan asked quietly, avoiding raising his voice so as not to distress Ogron. 'Gantlos, we're powerless and locked up, regardless of what happens, I'm afraid it's not gonna make much of a difference whether you're standing or sitting on the bed. Besides, you'll have to lie down and get some sleep sometime.'

'You wanna bet?'

Anagan sighed, and Gantlos relented, seeing his friend's buried frustrations.

'…Ugh.' He flopped down on the bed, folding his arms. 'You happy now?'

'Yes, actually, thank you.'

Gantlos rolled his eyes, but Ogron could see him settling into the long-withheld comfort of a real bed. He got the strong sense that, were the two of them not here, Gantlos would be stretching out like a cat. He could do so in front of them, but, as much as Neruman had broken them, neither was so damaged as to hold their tongues on teasing such an act.

Anagan continued to stroke Ogron's hair, lulling him into a soft, dozy state in which he could allow the knowledge of the iron bars to fade away, in which the thin prison mattress felt just as luxurious as anything a five star hotel would provide.

'Go on…' Anagan murmured, rubbing slow, steady circles on Ogron's scalp. 'Go to sleep…go to sleep…'

Well…how could a wizard refuse such an eloquent argument?

Gantlos hated this place. Hated it hated it hated it! Yes, he knew, this had basically been his idea, but still! Was this seriously their life now? Never leaving this box again? Ugh, he wanted to pound the walls to dust, but he couldn't, he didn't have his stupid powers, so he'd just break a hand. And now he was sitting on the bed, like he was okay with them being locked up and at the mercy of the same people that had dropped them into icy hell, wonderful! He swore to god, if Anagan hadn't looked so tired when asking him to sit…well, he'd probably just have thrown this damn piece of furniture. Would that accomplish anything? No, of course not, he'd probably get chained to the wall, but it'd make him feel better.

Since he was already semi-committed to the prisoner bit by now, he sat back on the bed, watching Anagan coax Ogron off to sleep. He couldn't decide whether to be annoyed by or jealous of how easily Anagan was handling this, handling being locked up. He knew cells could be a…difficult area for Anagan, but he was doing really well. But it was always hard to tell with him how much was genuine calm and serenity, and how much was him just repressing the urge to scream to help them deal with their own pain. And Ogron had so much pain…

Gantlos felt some part of his tense, aggressive adrenaline ease and relax as Ogron's breathing steadied, his face relaxing in sleep as Anagan continued to pet his hair, his stressed expression relaxing with every easy breath Ogron took. His eyes softened, and Gantlos glanced away. That look…he'd been working so, so hard not to catch glimpses of that look. He knew that look. There wasn't anything wrong with it, it was just…hard not to feel kinda alone when your best friends' eyes started glazing over with that soft look every time they saw each other. It wasn't a look for three.

'…How are you this calm?'

'Hm?' Anagan glanced up. Apparently he was capable of paying attention to someone other than Ogron.

'We're in prison, Anagan. Even if Omega isn't a risk, we're in prison. As in handcuffs, as in guards, as in never having a second of actual privacy again for even a moment of our lives, and you aren't freaking out at all!'

'What would it even do?' Anagan sighed quietly, leaning his head back against the wall. For a moment, the calm, steady facade faded, and he just looked very, very tired, his eyes greyed out and watered down by the constant barrage of nightmares and trauma that had been thrown at all of them as of late. Gantlos felt it too, of course he did. But, despite his reluctance to express it to anyone, he'd allowed himself to break almost nightly. Anagan…he'd had one meltdown, and it was clearly not enough to express even half his emotions. Gantlos tried to talk himself into asking, but he knew the brush off that would come, one he wouldn't be able to be annoyed about because he always gave the same, just far more brusquely. Besides, they were all basically just gonna sit here and rot for the rest of their lives, so it wasn't like there'd be a point anyways.

In the quiet of the cell, he tried wracking his brains to think of any way they could get out, any weakness they could exploit, any sacrifice they could make for their freedom, but each ended the same: even if they made it out, even if their powers suddenly came rushing back to them in a wave of liberation…Neruman was still out there. Still waiting to clap them back in chains tighter than any the Solarian dungeons held. As much as it pained him, as much as it made bile rise in his throat to even contemplate saying the words out loud, this was the safest place for them.

Until Neruman was dead.

Ogron slept peacefully, as still as a corpse aside for the occasional twitch under Anagan's fingers. Meanwhile, Gantlos sat restlessly on the opposite bed, crossing and uncrossing his legs, his gaze flicking to every nook and cranny, every crack and crevice as though he'd be able to break these walls down using only his mind, if he could only find a weak point. He got up to pace back and forth, flopping back down when the movement evidently yielded nothing of use. Anagan knew his mind was going to escape. Going to how they got out of there, and he supposed his mind should be doing likewise, seeking their way out of this new life of imprisonment, maybe even a path back to power, but he was so tired. They'd fought for centuries to obtain their power, and all it had wrought was loss, pain, and now, ultimately, a cell. A cell that, as chilly and devoid of natural light as it was, as cramped and barren, as drab and small, it was safe. Nobody was going to hurt them here, nobody would hurt his friends, he didn't have to try and patch them back up, he just had to let them all be. If Anagan were being honest…he didn't mind the cell. Some part of his mind he'd repressed a long time ago argued that really, they deserved this place. He loved his friends, but by most standards they were not what one would call good people. They had done so much that was so wrong, this was hardly unfair. It was truly lenient, based on their prior sentencing in that frozen nightmare. So he felt no real sense of injustice in their situation, just a quiet feeling of acceptance. If this was to be where it all came to an end…safe and together…well, he could live with that.

What had to be about an hour passed, Gantlos refusing to sit still and pacing and moving as though he were embodying Duman, Ogron lying passed out senseless from exhaustion. Just as Anagan was beginning to have a hard time ignoring the hunger gnawing at his gut, there was the sound of boots in the hallway.

Gantlos leapt to his feet, fists clenched, eyes narrowed, every muscle in his body tensed for a fight. Anagan just looked up. Ogron didn't even move.

A guard came to the cell door, his armour shining even in the dim light of the dungeons. Gantlos glowered at him, his gaze just daring him to try anything. The guard ignored the threat in the look, kneeling down and sliding a tray with food through a slot at the base of the bars.

'You should all eat.'

Gantlos watched suspiciously as he stood back up, while Anagan afforded him a grateful nod.

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.' The curt interaction over, the guard left, leaving Anagan to fight past the guilt he felt at rousing Ogron and gently nudge him awake.

'Ogron…Ogron, there's food…'

Ogron scrunched his face up tight, trying to burrow back into the pillow and away from the noise, but Anagan knew he was still hungry and needed food, plenty of it.

'Ogron…Ogron, c'mon, you need to eat.'

One blue eye peeked up at him, bleary with sleep but flickering slightly with interest at the mention of food.

'…Did you say there was food?' he mumbled, voice cracked as he woke up, pushing himself to sit up and glance towards the tray with interest.

'Mhm. And you still need to eat.' Anagan helped Ogron prop himself up against the pillow, ensuring he'd stay sitting rather than trying to get to his feet, before getting up from the bed and collecting the tray. He handed Gantlos a plate, which the other wizard only inspected, likely trying to determine if it was drugged or poisoned. Ogron, on the other hand, took his food eagerly, his face, still gaunt, lighting up at the prospect of food.

It wasn't very exciting food, or even that good, but Anagan wouldn't complain. Neruman had fed them intermittent slop they'd had to try and choke down once a day, he and Gantlos were almost as hungry as Ogron. He ate, picking up the pace as the food hit his stomach, the sustenance serving as both fuel and a reminder of the marks captivity had left on his stomach. Ogron ate with the same sort of feverish need, and, after a time, Gantlos moved from picking suspiciously at his plate to just screwing it and eating.

They sat and ate in companionable silence, allowing themselves to relish in the lack of threat in the air, the lack of adrenaline in their veins.

Ogron finished, though the empty tray seemed to have had no effect on his appearance, still haggard and starved, though his eyes…it wasn't that the light had returned, not truly, but it was peeking inside, gauging the structural stability of the room. If everything stayed stable, it would just creep further and further inside, until Anagan would be able to see the bright gaze he'd missed so dearly.

Anagan glanced down at his own remaining food. At Ogron. At his food. It wasn't enough…not enough to make a difference, but…he'd be okay.

Ogron's eyes widened as the food was placed on his own tray, glancing at Anagan in touched surprise. 'No…no, you need this…'

'You need it more.'

Ogron attempted to return the food to Anagan, but Anagan whisked his tray away.

'Wha- Anagan! I'm not taking your food!'

'Well my hands are full and my tray is gone, where else can you put it but your stomach?'

Ogron looked at an absolute loss, glancing between Anagan and the food in his hand. Anagan thought he might give in, but he was apparently too good a friend for that. Rolling his eyes, Ogron leaned forward, darting to return the food to Anagan, but even without his beloved super speed, Anagan was still quicker.

'Nope!' He whisked the tray away, presenting Ogron with his own tray. 'Eat the food.'

'I don't need you to starve for me.'

'Doing it anyway, tough.'

Their little game of food shuffle went on a few more minutes, Ogron growing slightly more energetic as it went on, though neither party gained the upper hand.

'Oh dear god…'

They both glanced over to see Gantlos facepalming on the other bed. 'Ogron, just eat the damn food….I can't watch this anymore.'

'Two against one, you lose!' Anagan smirked, pushing the food firmly into Ogron's hand. 'Now, eat up.'

Ogron rolled his eyes, muttering about how he didn't need others to starve for him, but the way his face flooded with elated relief as he ate told Anagan all he needed to know. Yes, Anagan's own stomach still grumbled at its promised sustenance being donated away, but he'd live. And the growing spark in Ogron's eyes was worth a thousand hunger pangs.

The afternoon passed in the uneventful fashion most prisoners were acquainted with, the wizards becoming accustomed to their own ways of kicking their heels, or, in Gantlos's case, the walls, because prison walls were constructed to crumbled into the dust of freedom if one simply kicked them long enough. Ogron personally didn't have much faith in the approach, but he was quite content with lying, warm and comfortable, with Anagan stroking his hair and making the soft, soothing noises he made whenever Ogron had one of his emotional meltdowns. He felt no need to add correcting Gantlos's view of prison architecture to the roster of activities.

The cells had been quiet all day, the only noises the occasional clink or armour from the guards on patrol, and one skittering of a rat, which had quickly been taken out by what appeared to be a dungeon cat. Apparently this dungeon cared if its prisoners were at risk of being nibbled on as midnight snacks for rodents.

However, now, the quiet was interrupted by a new sound. The click-click-clicking of high heels on the cobblestones, drawing all three wizards' attention to the hallway outside.

'Who's there?' Gantlos called into the darkness, moving to stand in front of Ogron and Anagan. Ogron sat up, craning his neck to look round Gantlos at their visitor.

'Uh…it's Stella?' Stella offered them a wave, which Anagan awkwardly returned. Ogron simply cocked his head in confusion, though worry started to build in his chest. He was quite aware this was a holding cell…was she here to move them? Do something to them? Had they done something wrong? They'd just been sitting here all afternoon…

'What do you want?' Gantlos demanded, folding his arms. His attitude was mayhaps a tad brusque for addressing the only person keeping them out of Omega, but…well, Ogron wanted to know what she wanted too.

'I wanted you up to speed on the situation.' The way she glanced away, breaking eye contact briefly, set Ogron's heart racing. What…what was wrong? Was she breaking her word? Were they returning to Omega?

'My father wants to try you for your crimes and re-evaluate your sentencing in two days,' Stella explained. Ogron's heart sank. Re-evaluate? That didn't mean change. That meant Omega, he was certain…

'I'm going to advocate for you, and I won't break my word.'

Gantlos rolled his eyes, whatever fragile whisper of trust had been built blowing away on the breath of Stella's words. 'Because your word is so strong and means so much.'

'I'm a princess and saviour of the universe,' Stella responded, her voice clear and firm, refusing to humour Gantlos's aggression and frustrations. 'So yes. My word means a lot.'

Gantlos glanced away, evidently having no further argument to throw.

'…So…' Anagan began cautiously. '…What does that mean, then?'

'It means that in two days, you three will come before my father and his ministers, and they will decide on a suitable punishment for your crimes.'

Ogron swallowed hard, trying to block out the many, many suitable punishments for his crimes. His past was stained black with darkness, they could torture him and be justified in it. He managed to clear his throat, dredging up the words that tried to cling to his voice box. '…Why your father?'

'Hm?' Stella cocked her head, confused. 'Well because we usually don't put the palace chef in charge of sentencing,' she replied, her tone light and playful, though tinged with apprehension.

'No…' Ogron stood, clenching his fists as he focused on steadying himself. 'I…I mean…why your father and not the Council of Light? They…they were responsible for our sentencing last time…'

Stella nodded. 'Yes, they were. You've also told me they're full of traitors that want you back in Neruman's hands, so I'm not much inclined to hand you into their custody. If you'd rather I did, my father would love the chance to clear his schedule up a bit and spend some time with the assistant he is obviously sleeping with.'

Ogron rapidly shook his head. 'No! No…no, thank you…I…I was just…'

Stella's expression softened. 'I would never. You were curious. I would be too.'

'…How will you convince the Council to let your father handle this?' Ogron asked quietly, aware that taking them into custody thout Solaria's say-so was technically within their purview.

'Don't worry about it,' Stella said airily, waving it off as though the question of how she was going to overcome established laws were some annoying little fly buzzing by her ear. 'I just wanted you guys up to speed. So…you're going on trial…I'll handle the Council. You guys just get some decent rest, okay?'

'…Okay.' Anagan nodded, guiding Ogron back to sit as his legs trembled. '…Thank you, your highness.'

Stella giggled softly at the term of address. 'Wow, it is weird hearing one of you guys call me that. Well, in a non sarcastic way. …Know what, just stick with Stella, casually. Feels less weird.'

Anagan nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. 'Okay…thanks, Stella.'

'You're welcome.' Stella turned and walked back up into the light of the palace and its freedoms, leaving them to settle back into the silence of the cell.

'So…guess we can't 'unleash the Abyss' our way outta this trial,' Gantlos muttered, sitting down on Ogron's bed next to Anagan. He was nervous, that much was evident by the increased closeness, but he didn't want to admit it. Neither did Ogron, really, he wanted a nice few hours of denial. If this trial went well, maybe if they begged on their knees for mercy from the king…then they'd live out the rest of their days down here, languishing in the dark. Or else they'd be thrown back in Omega, picked up by Neruman and tortured to madness or death, whichever came first.

Stella had the situation marginally less in hand than she may have suggested. Yes, sure, she knew exactly what she was doing, she just didn't know quite how to go about fine-tuning what she was doing down from 'keep the wizards out of Omega' into 'an actual plan'. So, she fell back on an old Winx Club classic. Doing something moderately illegal in the name of something good.

'Tecna?' She knocked on Tecna's door, then walked right on in. She didn't have time to wait on a reply, register said reply, then open the door, she had forty-eight hours to handle this. Plus, all her friends were used to her barging in and doing whatever.

As mentioned, Tecna was used to it. So used to it that she didn't look up from her screen. She…was either playing a video game, or remotely disarming a bomb. Out of concern that it could be the latter, Stella rocked on her heels for a moment, waiting for Tecna to turn to her.

'Hey, Stella. What's up?'

'Sooooo…' Stella leaned over Tecna's desk, adopting her best 'please help me, you so totally won't go to jail' expression. 'I kinda need a favour.'

Tecna raised an eyebrow, brushing Stella's golden tresses off her keyboard. 'Okay…'

'…I need you to hack the Fortress of Light.'

'…'

'…Pretty please?'