The Author is tired.
H: Enough said!
Apple always tried to see the bright side. She believed that even the murkiest of swamps could hide hidden beauty, that every thunderstorm held a promise of cleansing rain, and that even the most wicked souls had a glimmer of light worth nurturing. Her optimism was unwavering — she always found something good to say, even in the darkest of situations.
But that all changed when she met him: Haze. The Prince of Darkness. The Lord of the Damned. The future ruler of the Underworld.
He stormed into her world like a shadow swallowing the sun, shattering the perfect reality she had fought so hard to create. Her life had been a vibrant tapestry, woven from dreams and hope, but Haze's presence had left it stained with an inky blackness that refused to fade. Her fairytale world, once bursting with color, was slowly being consumed by his creeping shadows, each thread unraveling under his touch.
Apple maintained her poised exterior, still presenting herself as the fairest of them all. She smiled brightly and held her chin high. But inside, she felt like a mere reflection of the ideal she once embodied — a faded version, the fairest among a wilting bunch. There was an ache in her heart, a hollow emptiness that she couldn't fill no matter how much love, positivity, and charm she poured into it. It was like a bottomless well, swallowing every bit of her joy, leaving her feeling weighed down and drained.
Her thoughts spiraled endlessly, her mind tangled in the turmoil that Haze had brought into her life. Her steps, once graceful and confident, now felt clumsy, echoing the chaos inside her. Her hair still shone with the same golden luster as a sunrise, but her breaths were shallow, and her once-bright eyes were now clouded with a deep, unshakeable sadness.
It was getting harder to keep up the act — to be perfect when it felt like the whole world was crumbling beneath her feet. But she pushed those thoughts aside, telling herself that it didn't matter. The people adored her; her friends envied her, aspiring to be just like her. She was their shining star, their beacon of hope. Everyone believed in her, everyone except Haze.
He remained an unyielding force, unmoved by her charm, her efforts, her goodness. And that stung more than she cared to admit. It was baffling — frustrating even. How could he be the only one who saw right through her façade? She was so used to turning heads and winning hearts, yet to Haze, she was nothing more than a nuisance. It made her feel... inadequate, like she wasn't enough. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, and it ate at her insides like a poison.
"Why is he like that?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible across the expansive hallway. She bit her lip, her mind filled with questions that had no answers. "What could possibly fuel that much hatred, that much darkness in one person?"
She tried to distract herself with humor, a defense mechanism she had perfected over the years. "Maybe Raven should take a page from Haze's book," she mused aloud, trying to smile despite the heaviness in her chest. "At least one of us might get our happily ever afters that way." But the joke fell flat even to her own ears. The words tasted bitter on her tongue, as hope twisted into something unrecognizable, warped by the uncertainty of the future.
A deep sigh escaped her lips, the weight on her shoulders pressing down harder than ever. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to know what to do, to have all the answers. But here she was, lost, with no idea how to navigate the chaos that had upended her life. She could feel a gnawing urgency within her, a sense that time was running out, that she needed to act before everything fell apart. But every option seemed impossible, every solution just out of reach.
With a shaky breath, she did the only thing she knew would calm her racing heart. "La, la, la, la, la, la~" Her voice, usually so full of life, wavered slightly as she sang to herself. The melody, one that she had sung countless times before, usually had the power to soothe her soul. But today, it felt like a weak echo of its former magic. It was a small comfort — one that could quiet the storm inside her, but never silence it completely.
She desperately needed a plan, a way to bring order to the chaos. Her friends looked to her to be their guiding light, their future queen, the one who would lead them through this dark time. "Headmaster Grimm won't lift a finger to help," she muttered, frustration seeping into her voice. "There has to be someone else — someone with the power to change things before it's too late."
She racked her brain, thinking of every magical ally they might have. "Maybe the Fairy Queen could help? Or the Fairy Godmother?" Her voice trembled as she clutched her scrolls tightly to her chest. "But why does dealing with a villain have to be so hard?" she fretted, turning a corner, her mind so tangled in her worries that she didn't see where she was going.
"If only Haze wasn't here, maybe then we could all be living our stories the way they're supposed to be," she muttered, her grip tightening around her books as she imagined a world without his interference. "Oh, just he wait — if I ever after see him again, I'll give him a piece of my— " Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she collided with something solid.
Her heart stuttered as she looked up, her voice dying in her throat when she realized who she had run into. Haze stood before her, looming like a shadow, his expression cold and unyielding, a faint sneer tugging at the corner of his lips. Apple's blood ran cold, her body trembling as if winter itself had wrapped around her heart. His piercing gaze bored into her, stripping away her confidence, her pride, leaving her feeling small and exposed.
She clutched her books tighter, her fingers shaking, but one of her scrolls slipped from her grasp, unfurling as it tumbled to the floor. Panic clawed at her chest, but she couldn't bring herself to look away from Haze, afraid of what he might do next.
Haze's eyes flicked down to the scroll at his feet. He bent to pick it up, his movements slow, deliberate. Apple held her breath, watching as he studied the parchment, his expression unreadable. It was filled with her handwritten lyrics and musical notes — her thoughts, her heart laid bare. She wanted to snatch it back, but fear kept her rooted in place.
"H-Hexcuse me?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper as she raised a book between them like a flimsy shield. "May I… may I have that back, pretty please?"
Haze's gaze flicked from the scroll to her trembling form, his face a mask of disdain. For a moment, he seemed almost thoughtful, and then, with a straight face, he rolled the scroll back up. He held it out to her, and Apple's heart leapt with a fragile hope — maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for peace between them.
But as she reached out to take it, the scroll burst into flames. The fire consumed it in an instant, leaving nothing but ashes drifting through the air. Apple let out a small, startled cry, stumbling back, her hands clutching at empty air as she watched her hard work disintegrate. Her vision blurred with sudden tears, a lump forming in her throat as Haze's mocking grin flashed at her before he turned and strode away, his footsteps echoing through the hallway.
Apple stared at the pile of ashes on the floor, her chest heaving with a mix of fear, frustration, and something far deeper — something raw and aching. Haze had left her with nothing but her own helplessness, and she felt as if the ground beneath her was slipping away. She dropped to her knees, gathering the ashes in her hands, feeling the remains of her song slip through her fingers like sand.
Apple's mind reeled as the reality of her situation sank in — her assignment was gone, nothing but ashes on the floor. That single failure meant more than just a bad grade. It meant letting down the image she had built, a crack in the perfect facade that everyone adored. Without that assignment, she would face doubt and whisper questions about whether she was truly the fairest of them all. All because Haze had decided to waltz into her life and turn it upside down, as he had done to so many others before her. He was a walking storm, and she was tired of being caught in the chaos.
"Why are you so mean?!" The words ripped out of her before she could stop them, her voice rising above the noise of the hallway. The restraints she'd held so tightly snapped, and the frustration that had built up inside her spilled out in a flood of emotion. Her face flushed with anger, her voice trembling as her composure crumbled. "You've messed with our school. You've hurt my friends. And worst of all, you've messed with me! Well, guess what, Haze? I'm done playing nice and fair!"
It was a sight no one had seen before — Apple White, the picture of grace and poise, her flawless features twisted with a mixture of anger and desperation. Her perfectly arched brows furrowed into a scowl, her lips quivered with unrestrained emotion. For once, she let herself feel all the fury that had simmered beneath the surface for so long, directing every ounce of it at the dark figure before her.
Haze paused mid-step, casting a sidelong glance at her, a flicker of curiosity crossing his otherwise impassive face. He seemed almost amused by this unexpected outburst, as if he couldn't quite believe that the delicate little princess had a temper hidden behind her polished exterior.
Apple's voice shook as she pushed forward, determined to make him listen, to force him to understand the damage he had caused. "I've had just about enough of your scheming and your lies, ruining everything good about Ever After High. It's about time someone finally stood up to you and taught you a lesson!"
She straightened, lifting her chin in a way that she hoped seemed regal, her resolve steeling like the queen she was meant to become. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she knew she couldn't do this alone. She needed help. She needed a hero.
"And that someone will be... Daring!" she proclaimed dramatically, grabbing the arm of an unsuspecting Daring Charming, who appeared almost out of thin air. He stumbled beside her, looking around with wide eyes, utterly confused as to how he had arrived in this situation.
"Wait, what's going on?" Daring asked, blinking in bewilderment, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. One moment, he'd been in the training fields, practicing his swordsmanship, and the next, he found himself thrust into the middle of Apple's confrontation.
His gaze landed on Haze, recognition sparking a new, sharper expression. "You," he growled, brandishing the practice sword he still clutched in his hand. The sight of Haze made him stand taller, shoulders squared as he attempted to look intimidating, though his hand shook slightly on the hilt.
"I haven't forgotten what you did, villain," Daring declared, his voice filled with the bravado he had been taught since birth.
"I, Daring Charming, will defeat you once and for all, or my name isn't Daring, nor am I Charming!" He raised the wooden sword high above his head, positioning himself protectively in front of Apple, casting a look of determination her way as if to reassure her that he would keep her safe.
But Haze simply lifted an eyebrow, as if assessing the situation before him like it was a mildly amusing puzzle. Without even a hint of effort, he reached out, grabbed the wooden sword, and snapped it in half with a sharp crack. The sound echoed through the hallway, as sudden and final as a door slamming shut.
Both Apple and Daring stared at the broken remains of the sword, their mouths agape, shock etched across their faces. Apple's heart plummeted into her stomach as she realized just how powerless they were against Haze's strength. She could see the doubt flicker in Daring's eyes, the flash of fear that broke through his mask of confidence.
"Well, that's it for me," Daring muttered, his voice barely above a whisper before he turned tail and ran — no, made a "strategic retreat" — away from the confrontation as fast as his legs could carry him.
"Daring!" Apple called out desperately, reaching out toward him, but he was already out of sight, disappearing around a corner. She was left standing alone, her outstretched hand trembling as she tried to steady her breathing.
Haze's mocking voice cut through the air, dripping with menace as he took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them. "What was that you said again? Someone ought to teach you a lesson?" He grinned, a chilling smile that didn't reach his eyes, a predator's smile that made Apple's blood run cold.
Apple stumbled back, her courage crumbling under the weight of his sinister presence. Her back pressed against the wall, the cool surface biting into her skin as she realized there was nowhere left to go. Haze's shadow loomed over her, and all her fiery resolve from moments ago evaporated into a mist of fear. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, and she could feel herself shaking from head to toe as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.
She had wanted to stand up to him, to be brave, but now, staring into the darkness of his eyes, she felt small — so painfully small. And Haze, sensing her fear, took his time savoring the moment, enjoying every second of her terror as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, mocking whisper.
It was in that moment that Apple understood the true depth of the danger she faced, the cold realization sinking in that she had provoked something far darker than she could ever have imagined.
Of all the times to be left without her usual entourage of fans, it had to be now — alone with Haze, with no one to rush to her aid. The laughter and chatter that usually filled the halls of Ever After High had vanished, leaving behind a silence that pressed in on Apple like a vise. The reality of the situation settled in her chest like a stone: even if she screamed for help, she doubted anyone would hear her, and even if they did, she feared there would be nothing left of her by the time Haze was through.
Apple tried to back away, but her escape was cut short when her back collided with the cold, unyielding surface of the wall. Panic flared hotly in her chest as she watched Haze advance, his every step slow and deliberate. His dark presence filled the space between them, suffocating and inescapable, as if the shadows themselves were closing in. He seemed to absorb the light around him, turning the hallway into a narrow tunnel that held just the two of them — no one else, no way out.
Haze's hand slammed into the wall next to Apple's head, the impact cracking the stone. Apple gasped, her whole body jolting at the sudden force. Her heart hammered wildly, and her breath came in ragged bursts. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the worst, waiting for the final blow that she was certain would come. Seconds stretched into an eternity, each beat of her heart a painful reminder that she was still here — still at his mercy. Yet nothing happened.
Hesitantly, Apple cracked open one eye, then the other. Haze remained just inches away, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes watching her like a predator amused by its prey. He didn't move, didn't speak, just held her there in that unbearable silence. Apple's fear only deepened as she realized he wasn't in any hurry — he was savoring the moment, drawing it out like a game.
Her breaths were shallow, her chest tight with fear. She tried to tear her gaze away from his, but she couldn't. His eyes seemed to pin her in place, locking her in a contest of wills, her bravado clashing with his unyielding presence. Seconds bled into minutes, with Apple trapped against the wall and Haze looming over her, blocking every possible escape.
"What are you waiting for?! Do it!" Her voice cracked with the weight of her desperation, her fists clenched at her sides. She was tired of the tension, tired of feeling small and powerless beneath his gaze. If he intended to harm her, she wished he would just get it over with. But Haze only stared back at her, unblinking, unmoved by her outburst.
"Do what, hexactly?" he drawled, a smirk twisting his lips. His voice was maddeningly calm, as if he had all the time in the world. The casualness of his tone made her skin crawl.
Apple's stomach twisted as she saw the way he looked at her, like she was a rare, fragile thing — something he could crush in an instant if he chose to. She felt his gaze sweep over her, leaving her exposed, raw, as if his eyes could see right through the mask she wore. It wasn't physical, but it felt like he was stripping her down layer by layer, seeing every fear, every flaw she had tried so hard to hide.
"What would everyone think if they saw the perfect Apple White like this?" Haze's voice dropped to a sinister whisper, each word dripping with mockery. "Cowering like the scared little girl she really is." He relished the way her expression twisted, how her cheeks flushed with indignation even through her fear.
"They'll come for me!" Apple shot back, her voice shaking but laced with defiance. "I'm not a coward, no matter what you say!" For a moment, she found a spark of the confidence she was so known for, the boldness she'd relied on her whole life. But that spark flickered as quickly as it came, smothered beneath the weight of Haze's cold, unyielding stare.
"And yet here you are, trembling like a lost puppy." Haze's voice was cold, his breath chilling against her skin. His clawed hand trailed down her cheek, a sharp nail scraping against her soft skin, just enough to leave a thin, stinging line without drawing blood. Apple flinched at the touch, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye as she struggled to hold herself together.
"I'm not—" she began, her voice breaking as she tried to push him away, but he remained firmly in place, barely swayed by her feeble attempts. He leaned in closer, his presence swallowing hers, his words pressing against her like a vise around her heart.
"You're not what?" he taunted, his voice low and dangerously smooth. "Not perfect? Not the fairest? Or maybe... not as strong as you want everyone to think?" His words were like knives, each one cutting deeper, sharper, twisting in her chest.
"You're such a fool, princess," he sneered, his lips curling in a mocking smile that sent a shiver through her bones. "You let their empty praises get to your head, didn't you? You actually believed you were everything they said you were — flawless, untouchable, perfect." He paused, dragging his claw down her cheek again, slow and deliberate, leaving a burning trail of humiliation behind.
"You're no Aphrodite, no goddess of beauty. Not as strong as Athena. Your heart? It's not as nurturing as Demeter's. You're just a mortal girl, Apple. And mortals have their limits." His hand gripped her chin, forcing her to look directly into his dead, hollow eyes, the darkness there swallowing everything.
"And you..." his voice lowered to a chilling whisper that seemed to echo in the empty hall, "You reached your limits a long, long time ago."
Before she could respond, before she could even comprehend the full weight of his words, Haze's body erupted into flames. The fire consumed him in a heartbeat, turning him into a swirling vortex of darkness and heat. Apple shielded her face, feeling the intense heat burn through the air around her, but when she opened her eyes again, he was gone — nothing remained but the charred cracks on the wall where he had stood.
She fell to her knees, her legs giving out beneath her as the reality of what had just happened crashed down on her. The silence that filled the hall now felt suffocating, the air too thick to draw into her lungs. Her breaths came in short, panicked gasps, each one feeling like it wasn't enough. Her chest tightened, her thoughts spiraling as Haze's words echoed in her mind, each one a new bruise on her spirit.
Her tears flowed freely now, blurring her vision, mingling with the small amount of makeup that once accentuated her flawless features, turning them into streaks of imperfection. She tried to steady her breathing, to regain the poise she was known for, but every attempt felt like a lie, unraveling the image she had crafted for so long. The cracks in her facade widened, and she felt herself breaking apart.
Haze's words are lies, she tried to remind herself, clinging to the thought like a lifeline.
He's just trying to break me, to make me doubt myself.
But the doubt had already taken root deep inside her, sinking into the cracks in her confidence, spreading like poison. Why did his words hurt so much if they weren't true? Why did they feel like they had struck something hidden within her, a truth she had been too afraid to acknowledge?
She was supposed to be the fairest. The perfect princess that everyone admired. The one destined to rule and lead her friends to their happily ever afters. But now, staring at her own trembling hands, feeling the coldness seep into her bones, she felt something new — something bitter and terrifying. She felt inadequate.
Apple felt… imperfect.
The realization sank into her like a blade, and she curled into herself, letting the tears flow unchecked. The world around her seemed darker, colder, and for the first time, she wasn't sure if she would ever find her way back to the light.
Haze reappeared in a flash of fire, the flames dissipating into the shadows of a secluded hallway deep within the school. For a moment, he stood tall, maintaining his usual imposing presence, but then the mask slipped. His body buckled, his posture collapsing as he leaned heavily against the cold stone wall. He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to steady himself, but the pain was relentless, gnawing at his insides.
It was an unfamiliar weakness that clawed through him, and the realization struck like a blow. His strength, which he had always taken for granted, was slipping away. A bitter thought surfaced — was this really happening to him? He gritted his teeth, fighting against the pained groans that clawed up his throat, but a few still escaped, echoing hollowly through the deserted corridor. Sweat poured down his face, his breaths coming in shallow, labored gasps, as though he'd been running for miles.
His hands trembled, betraying the agony that surged through his veins. He clenched his fists, trying to still them, but the tremors persisted. Every breath he took felt like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He pressed a hand to his ribs, trying to anchor himself, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. "Not yet," he muttered, the words barely more than a hoarse whisper. He gripped his own arms, forcing his body to steady itself, forcing the pain back down.
He took several deep breaths, inhaling sharply through his nose, exhaling slowly as he willed his muscles to relax, to regain control. After a few moments, the shaking subsided, though a faint tremor still lingered in his limbs. But the discomfort in his chest remained — a gnawing reminder that his power, once limitless, had its boundaries. He straightened, fighting through the pain, forcing himself to stand tall again. His infamous scowl settled back onto his face, but underneath it, his blood simmered with the strain he had subjected himself to.
"Did I push myself too far?" he wondered, a grimace crossing his face. But almost immediately, he dismissed the thought. No. I can still go on. The words served as a mantra, a promise to himself. He wouldn't let a little pain hold him back. He had endured worse.
Just as he steeled his resolve, he felt a sudden movement against his side, a faint buzzing from within his coat pocket. He frowned, fishing out the source of the disturbance. It was the enchanted parchment given to him by the Headmaster— a humiliating reminder of his so-called penance, a list of the wrongs he was expected to rectify. He usually kept it hidden, a secret he guarded fiercely, even though he hadn't made much progress with the names scrawled along its cursed length.
Now, however, the parchment seemed to have a mind of its own. It glowed with an intense golden light, slipping free of his grasp and hovering in the air before him. The words on the scroll rearranged themselves, shifting and twisting, creating a scene that made Haze narrow his eyes in suspicion. The letters glowed brighter, forming new words that hovered like an eerie message in the air.
Haze's expression darkened as he read the text— his schedule. The very classes that the faculty, and that irritating spawn of Eros, had forced him to attend. One particular class time was highlighted in bold, the words practically shouting at him. He scowled. He was already supposed to be in session.
Haze rolled his eyes, turning on his heel, ready to leave the glowing scroll behind and ignore the summons. But before he could take more than a few steps, the parchment buzzed louder, its hum reverberating with a low, mystical vibration. He glanced back, just in time to see the golden light intensify, spilling forth like a flood. The glowing particles surged toward him, engulfing his body in a swirl of shimmering dust and ethereal waves.
Panic shot through his mind as the magic tightened around him like a vise, pulling at the edges of his being. He tried to resist, tried to summon his own power to fight back, but he was already too drained.
His limbs felt heavy, sluggish, as the magic overwhelmed him, tugging him into nothingness. Within moments, his vision blurred, his form dissolving into the shimmering light as the hallway vanished around him. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the scroll, glowing with a vindictive satisfaction as it whisked him away.
"My
"So nice of you to join us for this morning's session, young man."
Haze lifted his head, squinting against the flood of light streaming through stained-glass windows that painted the chamber in a kaleidoscope of colors. He blinked, struggling to focus as he realized where he was — right in the center of a circular room, surrounded by rows of seated students.
Their faces swam into view, a mix of familiar and unwelcome expressions, ranging from open hostility to wary curiosity. Lizzie Hearts regarded him with an arched brow, her usual amused skepticism intact.
Across the room, the hooded girl he had clashed with days ago watched him with fierce, unrelenting scrutiny. Others didn't bother hiding their contempt, their glares practically burning holes through him.
Haze groaned, pressing his fingers into his temples in a futile attempt to dull the headache pounding in his skull. Fantastic. Just where he wanted to be — on display like some unruly beast for a pack of self-righteous fairytale brats.
"You've missed quite a few of our lovely little gatherings, but fear not, my boy! We shall whip you into shape in no time!"
The voice dripped with a kind of obnoxious enthusiasm, and Haze snapped his gaze toward its source — only to be met with a sight that did not belong in a place like this.
At the front of the room stood a man who practically radiated energy, as if he were the living embodiment of a festival that refused to end.
He was tall, his dark coat embroidered with silver filigree that shimmered when he moved, its high collar flaring dramatically around his neck. His vest — midnight blue with elaborate golden swirls — was just ostentatious enough to be theatrical without looking entirely ridiculous. A silver pocket watch dangled from his waistcoat, and in his gloved hand, he twirled an ebony cane with effortless flair.
His face was striking — sharp and smooth, framed by tousled black hair streaked with wisps of silver, as if moonlight had threaded through it.
But it was his eyes that unsettled Haze the most — bright, molten silver, shimmering with a mirthful gleam that should have been harmless, yet left an eerie chill in the air.
"Name's Thanos Grim, academic advisor, licensed emotional alchemist, part-time poet, and full-time enthusiast of passionate outbursts!"
He spread his arms wide as if expecting applause. "Not to be confused with that Grim family, though I do appreciate a well-crafted ending."
He winked.
Haze scowled. He hated everything about this man on sight. The flamboyance, the theatrics, the insufferable cheerfulness — it was all so wrong.
Thanos strode forward, extending a gloved hand to Haze, his grin unwavering. "Come, now. No need to sulk on the floor like some tragic antihero. Well... actually, the look suits you, but let's at least get you upright, shall we?"
Haze glared at the offered hand. Every instinct screamed at him to reject it. He could feel something unnatural lurking beneath the man's exaggerated charm, as if Thanos Grim saw through every layer of his defenses with that too-knowing gaze.
A hot surge of anger flared in his chest, and he swatted the hand away, forcing himself to stand, though his legs trembled beneath him.
Thanos let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded. "Oho! The defiance! The raw emotion! My dear boy, you are an artist of rage — unrefined, untamed, but oh, what potential!"
Haze clenched his fists. Every word made him want to hurl something across the room.
Thanos, utterly unfazed, clasped his hands behind his back. "Now then! Since you're so eager to participate, allow me to formally introduce you to the wonder that is — our class!"
He snapped his fingers.
Before Haze could react, a chair slid across the floor, knocking into the back of his legs and forcing him to sit. Magical restraints coiled around his wrists, binding him to the seat with a soft, pulsating glow — gentle, yet inescapable, like shackles woven from whispered promises.
Haze snarled, straining against the bindings. "Let. Me. Go."
Thanos tsked. "Ah-ah! We must follow classroom procedure, my fiery friend! No storming out, no setting things ablaze — unless it's metaphorically, of course. Now!" He turned to the rest of the class with a magnificent flourish of his cane. "Welcome, everyone, to another enlightening session! Please extend a warm — not hostile, mind you — welcome to our newest guest!"
He gestured to Haze with theatrical delight, silver eyes twinkling.
The students murmured, some eyeing Haze with veiled contempt, others watching with something closer to morbid fascination.
The weight of their judgment pressed in on him, suffocating, mocking. His anger burned hotter. He yanked at his restraints again, teeth bared, furious at being caged like some wild animal.
Thanos tilted his head, observing him like a scientist admiring an exotic specimen. "Oh, I do love that fire in you, young man! And rest assured, by the time we're through, you'll have full control over it."
His grin widened, eyes flashing with something unfathomable. "Whether you want to or not."
Haze's blood turned ice cold.
The restraints pulsed.
"Once again, delighted to have you with us, Haze Underworld," Thanos said, voice smooth as silk.
He leaned in slightly, just enough for his voice to drop into something only Haze could hear — something too soft, too knowing.
"After all, anger... is just another form of inevitable."
Then he straightened, beaming. "Now then, let's begin, young man. Welcome to Anger Magicment!"
The Author is gonna take a long break soon.
H: But I wont!