'So…' Gregory swung his bag awkwardly, and Gantlos internally groaned as the kid gave into the silence's beseeching argument to fill it with meaningless small-talk. 'You guys live here?' A rat ran under Gregory's feet, and he jumped back. 'It's…not a total dump?'

'It has walls and keeps the elements out. Were you hoping for The Savoy?'

'I was kinda hoping for a house…' Gregory muttered, eyeing the 'condemned' sign hanging over the warehouse. 'Oh, great. Is it gonna fall on us?'

'Not unless something ticks one of the two of us off and we destabilise the foundations.'

Gregory stopped, looking utterly petrified. 'Wait, what? Should I go inside, then?'

'Sleep in there, sleep out here, I don't really care.'

'Charming.'

Gantlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. Of all the teenage wizards they could have taught, they had to get one with an attitude. Because his life had been lacking some stress.

'Look…I've had a long night, okay?'

'My night hasn't exactly been restful either.'

'Then you should probably sleep inside and quit making the night longer for both of us.'

Gregory visibly bit back a retort, hesitantly following Gantlos inside. As his repulsed gaze roved over the building, Gantlos felt a surge of protectiveness for this old place. It was broken down and falling to pieces, but hey, who were they to judge? They were just the same. And through fights and, recently, keeping Ogron together, Anagan had done his level best to clean the place up, removing all the dangerous rusty nails he could find, getting rid of the heaps of scrap, and carefully moving the wasp nest to a less dangerous place. It wasn't perfect, in fact it was downright hazardous, but this was the closest they had to a home, and Gregory had no right to judge it.

'Where are the others?' Gregory asked curiously, dodging a splintery plank sticking out of the wall.

'Sleeping.' He didn't know if that was true, but he knew Ogron was in no position to face Gregory right now. He'd have the illusions if he needed them, but they'd be there in the morning, and twenty minutes after having the living daylights beaten out of him by his own unwilling hand was hardly the time to deal with the kid.

'Couldn't wait up?' Gregory rapidly shut up as Gantlos tensed and shot him a look that anyone with eyeballs could understand in a heartbeat.

'You should get some sleep.'

Gregory looked around, his eyes seeking a place to rest his somewhat snarky head. 'Um…you guys got beds?'

'Close enough. Find somewhere.'

'If this whole supervillain thing doesn't work out, you should consider a career in hospitality,' Gregory deadpanned, and Gantlos rubbed his temples. He was too tired for this…

'Damn, that's kinda cool. Can I sleep up there?'

Gantlos glanced up, the words 'Just do whatever' on his lips, before he saw Gregory pointing up at Duman's nest.

'No!'

Gregory recoiled at his sudden outburst, and Gantlos stalked to stand protectively in front of the tower. He wasn't letting this stranger and his scent into Duman's space.

'That's not for you.'

'Alright, alright, a simple, 'Sorry, that spot's taken,' woulda done just fine…' Gregory muttered, tossing his bag down in the cleanest corner he could find. 'You got bedding or something?'

Gantlos waved a hand and Gregory was presented with a heap of clean-ish bedding.

'Huh. Handy trick. I can do that?'

'Eventually. Get some sleep. You're gonna need it.'

Ogron used to be a morning person. Well, sort of. Did it count as a morning person if one hadn't actually slept? Perhaps that was simply an elongated evening person. But, either way, he now hated mornings with a burning passion. Mornings were when he had to be slapped in the face once more by his situation, accompanied with the pain that stemmed from all the many, many times he had actually slapped himself in the face. Among other things…

He rolled over with a groan, pulling the blanket over his head and praying that it was still the middle of the night. That he could succumb to his exhaustion and pass back out again.

'Ogron?' He felt a hand gently nudging him and moaned softly. It wasn't nighttime. 'Ogron…we have to get up.'

'No…' He was so tired. He was in so much pain. He wanted to cry. 'Anagan…leave me alone.'

'I wish I could. I really, truly wish I could.' Anagan stroked his hair softly, carefully guiding him to lift his head and blink awake to the harsh reality he was trapped in. Every morning, every time his eyes opened, he craved the night, the next time he could collapse and pass out.

'C'mon,' Anagan murmured sympathetically, sitting up. 'We have a kid to prepare for havoc and evil.'

'Hurrah…' Ogron stretched, whimpering as his body decided to put forward a counter-argument to Anagan's diagnosis that he didn't have any broken bones. Breathing hurt…

Anagan looked like his heart was breaking as he watched Ogron struggle to his feet, double-checking the illusions they'd set up last night. He was a mess of cuts and bruises, but thankfully nobody could see that. Now, if only he couldn't feel it…

Anagan likewise stretched out, getting up and out of bed. He'd slept with Ogron last night, Ogron feeling unable to sleep alone after what he'd been through. He wasn't going to say it, but he was eternally grateful to his friends for the times they'd held him as he'd sobbed himself to sleep, tumbling further and further into this abyss, scrambling for an escape that didn't exist.

'Mmf…' Anagan rubbed his eyes, glancing around their dingy little hideout. 'Where are the others?'

'Others?' It took Ogron a full second to realise he was talking about Gregory. The stranger they were just letting into their lives. If he made a single slip, this perfect stranger would see him at his absolute lowest. Better than the Winx seeing, he supposed…dear god, if they saw him like this, beaten and shoved from grace…

He shoved the thought away, striding as steadily as he could manage out into the centre of the warehouse.

'Gantlos?'

The lump under a heap of blankets immediately sat up in Duman's old nook, rumpled blonde hair emerging in a bedheaded mess.

'Morning…' Gantlos had never really been a morning person. He looked almost as haggard as Ogron felt, and Ogron felt guilt lance through him at the knowledge he'd just had to rouse him. But they all had to get to work. Who knew when Neruman wanted them done? He was willing to bet on whenever would give him an excuse to finally give a concrete answer to if Ogron had any broken bones, but he was determined to do all he could to appease his master. And if that meant moulding a teenager into a force of nature Neruman could wield as he pleased, then so be it.

Gantlos clambered down from his grieving nook, rubbing the hazy slumber from his eyes.

'Where's Gregory?' Ogron asked immediately, grimacing at how demanding he sounded. He was trying not to take out his stress on his friends, but it was hard. He was so, so tempted to yell, and scream, and express all this heartache on the nearest target.

'He set up over there.' Gantlos gestured across the warehouse, and Ogron heard quiet snoring.

'Well, I suppose we just…wake him up?' Wake up the random kid that apparently lived with them now. Fantastic.

He looked pleadingly to Anagan. He was better with kids. And humans. And sentient beings in general. Ogron scraped by through hope and Anagan pushing him to apologise when he snapped.

'Alright, fine,' Anagan acquiesced, crossing the warehouse to where Gregory slept. Ogron and Gantlos exchanged a glance, Ogron nervous, Gantlos blank, before following him.

'Gregory?' Anagan asked quietly, trying to rouse the teenager as quietly as possible. He was met with a loud snore. 'Gregory, you need to get up for training.' Nothing.

Gantlos rolled his eyes, rubbing his temples. 'This is taking too long.' He loudly clapped his hands, emitting a several shockwaves that shook the building.

'Gantlos!' Anagan chastised as Gregory let out a yelp of surprise, rolling out of bed and striking up a frankly dreadful fighting stance.

'Who is it, what is it?!'

'Hey, it's okay, you can calm down,' Anagan assured him, guiding him to lower his fists. 'We had to wake you up for training. Gantlos…'

'It worked,' Gantlos rebuffed, and Anagan apparently did not see fit to argue over it.

'Oh…' Gregory yawned, stretching out. The walls trembled.

'…That's…' Ogron stroked the spiderweb cracks feathering across the walls. '…That's…quite something.'

Gregory went pale with terror, stumbling back. 'Shit…not again. I wasn't even mad! I was just…just…'

'Hey…hey, it's okay,' Anagan shushed, putting a grounding hand on his shoulder. 'C'mon, we'll go outside, work on getting that under control.'

'That way the ceiling can't cave in,' Gantlos muttered, and Anagan shot him a 'you're not helping' look.

The sunlight felt like an assault on Ogron's senses as they stepped outside into the dim autumn morning, the Sun creeping higher and higher in the sky, each millimetre moved a moment closer to when Ogron could crumple back into bed and escape all this once again.

'So, what now?' Gregory asked awkwardly, stuffing his fists in his pockets like that would stop things trembling near him. 'We do some kind of Karate Kid thing?'

'Who to the what now?' Ogron asked, bewildered. Who?

'It's a movie,' Anagan filled in. 'And…no. You need to focus on getting your magic under control.' He and Gantlos both looked to Ogron, who rapidly tried to pull himself together.

'…Alright.' God, why did this seem so nerve-wracking? He could do this. He was powerful. Except that he wasn't. If he was powerful, he wouldn't be someone's slave. He wouldn't be- No, not the time.

'You need to try some basic spellcraft to practise channelling your energy. Come, sit here.' He sat, trying to avoid looking like he was sinking into the support for his aching body.

Gregory sat likewise, the two of them utilising old crates as seats. Not like they had furniture.

'Levitation is some of the simplest magic there is,' Ogron explained, calling up his sluggish energy and sending it to envelop a stone on the floor, a lethargic purple aura drawing it up and into the air. Thankfully Gregory had never seen another wizard's magic, so he didn't know how visibly weak Ogron's was.

'…Making a rock float?' Gregory asked, sounding quietly incredulous. 'You saw what I can do, I'm stronger than this-'

'You'll lose control if you try anything stronger,' Ogron interjected, flinching slightly at his very first attempt to teach being undermined. 'Just let me show you.'

Gregory rolled his eyes, but shut up and let Ogron speak.

'Close your eyes and concentrate,' Ogron instructed. 'Beneath your skin, you can feel your magic.'

Gregory nodded. 'It's…wild.'

'It will be. You need to summon it.'

'How do I do that?'

'I'm getting there. Magic feeds off emotions. From what Gantlos said, yours feeds off rage.'

'Well I didn't pick that!' Gregory snapped.

Sighing, Ogron replied, 'Nobody's saying you did. So, you need to control that rage. Only draw off a little. Only call up a little magic. Feel it under your skin, like water, pouring through your fingertips. Concentrate on your emotions. Think about them. Focus them on the rock. Feel your power go to it.'

There were a few moments of silence, before both wizards got a face full of gravel.

'Dammit!' Gregory shouted, the ground cracking as he stomped his foot in frustration. His attempt at levitation had obliterated the stone, turning it to gravel that had almost added a new slash to Ogron's cheek.

'Why didn't it work?!'

'It's your first try,' Ogron replied, folding his arms and regretting it as pain landed across his chest. 'Try again.'

And try he did. Anagan and Gantlos winced time and time again as Ogron's attempts to teach failed and Gregory's frustration grew.

'It's not working!'

'Well maybe if you'd bloody listen to what I'm telling you-!'

'Okay!' Anagan put a hand on Ogron's shoulder, calming the irritable redhead. 'Both of you, take a breath. This is just making it worse.'

'No, what's making it worse is that he's not explaining it properly,' Gregory huffed, flicking at a piece of debris on his jacket. Ogron's ire flared. He'd been explaining it perfectly well! Gregory had simply refused to let him finish half his thoughts, blundering ahead to the rallying cry of 'Yeah, yeah, I got it.'

'How dare-'

'Take a break,' Anagan interjected calmly. 'You need it.'

'No, I don't!' Ogron snapped. He couldn't take a break, it hadn't even been an hour! If Neruman found out-

'Take. A. Break.' Anagan's tone brokered no argument, and Ogron felt himself be guided up and away. He tried to protest, but it was futile when he wanted a break more than anything.

'Gantlos, you help Gregory,' Anagan instructed. Gantlos looked irritated at being left with the kid after watching him be so utterly impossible, but perhaps it was just ire at being made to actually engage with reality for once in the past month.

'This is going so wrong…' Ogron groaned, covering his face with his hands as they walked inside. 'He can't get it!'

'Ogron…'

'What's Neruman going to do to me now…?'

'Ogron!' Anagan guided his hands away from his face, holding them gently to prevent him indulging any of his many nervous tics. 'Ogron, it's been forty minutes. Calm down.'

Ogron despised being told to calm down. If he could be calm, did people not think that he would be? Did they believe he enjoyed this? Enjoyed feeling stressed, and angry, and panicked? Enjoyed hyperventilating?! Oh god, now he was hyperventilating…

'Ogron! Ogron, it's okay.' Anagan guided him to sit, and Ogron wrapped his arms around himself, hating that he was panicking over forty minutes of iffy training. Logically, he knew Anagan was right. It had been forty minutes. It'd get better. He should be calm, he should be able to calm down, but instead, his hands were desperately clawing at his clothes, running through the fabric as though that would somehow tether him to a reality he didn't even want to be a part of. Because logic wasn't the guide from which Neruman drew his decisions over when to punish, when to puppet.

'I can't…' he whispered, his voice cracking. 'I can't calm down…I can't…I can't fail, can't let him…can't let him…let him…let…'

'Shh…' Anagan gently stroked his hair in a quiet, steadfast reassurance. 'Shh, it's okay…it's okay…'

'This is so stupid…' Ogron gasped out, hating how shallow his breathing was. 'I…I don't…I don't know what's wrong with me…'

'You're traumatised,' Anagan said gently, squeezing his hand. 'You're traumatised, and you're having a panic attack.'

'I need to stop having a panic attack,' Ogron choked out, his hands twisting over each other in a subconscious motion he really didn't remember initiating. 'I need…need to…'

'Stop,' Anagan instructed, firm but gentle. Calm. 'Ogron, stop. Gantlos has it under control, you just need to focus on breathing.'

'I am breathing.' Even he knew how pathetic that sounded. God, he was so pathetic…Neruman was right, he was weak, he couldn't handle anything…

'Stop,' Anagan repeated. 'Stop, don't say that. And don't let Neruman gaslight you into believing it, either.'

Ogron groaned. Had he said that out loud? Dammit.

'You're not pathetic…' Anagan murmured, putting an arm around him and rubbing slow, grounding circles on his shoulder. 'You're strong…you just need to focus on your breathing, okay?'

Ogron shook his head mutely. He didn't want to focus on his breathing. The shallow, desperate inhales and exhales only served as yet another way he was losing control of his own body. He wanted to escape his breathing. Wanted to escape everything.

'Ogron, look at me.' Anagan moved to kneel in front of him, resting his hands on Ogron's shoulders. 'It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay.'

'But, Neruman-'

'No, nothing about Neruman. Neruman can wait. Just focus on me. Focus on me, and focus on my breathing. You don't need to think about yours, just focus on mine.' That sounded simple enough. Ogron watched the slow, steady rise and fall of Anagan's chest, hearing his own weak gasps shuddering along with it. Gradually, he managed to tame them in time with Anagan's own steadfast breaths, feeling himself sink closer and closer to reality as Anagan's hands slipped into his, separating them from their panic-induced wringing.

'There…' Anagan murmured, moving back up to sit next to him. 'Is that better?'

Ogron nodded, exhaustedly resting his head on Anagan's shoulder.

'I'm tired…' he whispered, blinking back tears. 'I'm so tired, Anagan, and I can't rest. I can't stop. All this…there's no way out.' He was just trapped. It kept feeling like…like maybe there was an end. There had to be. A point where he could finally pass out and let it all stop. But there wasn't. This was his life now, and you couldn't escape life.

'I can't keep doing this…'

'I know…' Anagan held him close, as though he could shield him from all that life had decided to scar him with. But he couldn't. He couldn't protect him at all.

'He seems tense,' Gregory remarked, filling the silence Gantlos hadn't asked him to fill.

'He is tense,' Gantlos replied, trying to figure out what exactly he was supposed to be doing. Anagan had said to help Gregory…did he just pick up where Ogron left off? Levitation? Except that it wasn't, not really. Never once would the ability to make a small stone float have any bearing on Gregory or his life. But it was about the control it represented. Ogron had taught him the spell, patiently talking him through hand movements, through visualisations, calming him down every time he'd panicked and lost control, hiding the destructive aftermath of their lessons from Yllidith to save the two boys from punishment. He'd seen Ogron teach this a hundred times; he could do it. He could, right?

'Okay…' he sighed, sitting down across from Gregory. He disliked the interaction, honestly. His solace as of late had come from solitude, from being alone with his thoughts, as dark and miserable as they were. But Ogron needed him, so…

'Look, don't bother explaining; your friend couldn't explain it, so why would you? It's too hard.' Wow. Ever hear of endurance?

'It's been forty minutes,' Gantlos said bluntly. 'Were you expecting to be amazing at everything in an hour? Try it again.'

Gregory rolled his eyes, but focused his gaze on another stone. Green started to envelop it, but before it could lift, Gantlos's voice cut through the spell.

'What are you thinking about?'

'Huh?' The rock fell to the ground, Gregory staring at Gantlos in confusion. 'What do you mean?'

'What are you thinking about?' Gantlos repeated. 'As the rock lifts, what's on your mind?'

Gregory frowned, thinking. '…Bloom. And Cindy. And how they treated me. Bloom's patronising attitude. And those wizards. Saying they wouldn't train me, because they think I'll turn into some kind of murderer based on some loser they kicked out of their little club. And all the Winx. And how Cindy didn't back me up.'

'Okay, you need to stop thinking about all that.' That was far too much anger. No wonder he was losing control.

'But Ogron told me to focus on my emotions,' Gregory argued.

'Yes. But you're levitating a rock. Pick the rock up.' Gregory did. 'Can you feel how heavy it is? How heavy is it?'

'Pretty light. Lighter than my cellphone.'

'Right. This is a small spell. So you need a small emotion.'

'A small emotion? What's that?'

'Exactly what it sounds like. Think of something that annoys you. That irks you. That you'd roll your eyes at. It doesn't make you angry, it's just frustrating.'

'…Okaaaaay…' Gregory closed his eyes, evidently thinking hard. 'Okay, I got it.'

'Alright. Now, focus only on that emotion. Just that. Hands out. Palms down. Picture the rock. Remember it in your hand. How it felt. The surface. How heavy it was. Feel that weight in your mind. Call up your magic. Lift your hands. Feel the weight start to rise. Not get lighter, just get higher. Nice job.'

Gregory cracked an eye open at Gantlos's praise, his eyes lighting up for a heartbeat, before the light was doused by the little rock trembling a few millimetres above the ground.

'Are you kidding? Nice job? It's barely doing anything!'

'It's a start.'

'It's pointless!' Gregory's eyes flashed, and the rock joined its fallen brethren amongst the dust coating the ground. 'Ugh! Why does that keep happening?!'

'Remember all those things you listed before?' Gantlos asked, exasperation starting to tinge his voice.

'Yeah?'

'You let them in. Once they get in, you can't hold them back. They'll spill out, and you're back to being a force of nature. You have to compartmentalise. What did you think about before?'

'The minor annoyance?' Gantlos nodded. '…You'll think it's dumb.'

Gantlos rolled his eyes. 'Gregory, I am not nearly invested enough in you as a person to uphold any judgement on whatever you have to say.'

'…Thanks?'

Gantlos gestured for him to explain, and he sighed. 'Okay…there was like, this pizza place? That Cindy and I went to? And I ordered stuffed crust, but they brought me regular, but I still paid for what I ordered, and I tried to explain, but they said I'd ordered what I got, and wouldn't listen, and I lost seventy cents over that, and it was really annoying!' He huffed, before apparently registering what he'd said and looking away, embarrassed.

'That's actually pretty much exactly what I told you to do,' Gantlos replied, and Gregory visibly relaxed. 'You need small, minor emotions. That's the best way to get control. Full-blown rage will spill over and destroy whatever it touches. Anything more delicate needs these smaller emotions.' Gantlos had lacked any small frustrations when he'd been learning control, all his emotions a mix of rage, heartache and mind-numbing terror, so Ogron, in all his endless wisdom, had told him to close his eyes, take a deep breath, then promptly thrown a pillow at him. He'd got thrown across the room by unintentional magic for his trouble, but Gantlos's irritable demeanour had finally got him somewhere, letting him call up his core magical emotion without destroying the room.

'But the smaller emotions won't let me lift the rock,' Gregory argued.

'You tried once,' Gantlos argued back. 'Try it again.'

'I levitated back at the Winx's loft. Why can't I practise that?'

'Because it's too large a spell, and you'll break something. Try the levitation again."

'You saw how powerful I am! I can do more!'

'You've been practising for an hour!' Dammit, where was Anagan? Or Ogron? He wasn't cut out for this…

'Look, just…just keep trying that spell. I'm gonna go get Ogron, he can take over, or Anagan…' Gantlos took a deep breath, grounding himself. This training was getting under his skin.

'Whatever.'

Gantlos stalked back inside, opening his mouth to call out for Ogron, but he froze as he heard quiet hyperventilating sobs.

'I need to get back…'

'No, no you don't. I told Gantlos to help Gregory. He's got it. You just need to keep breathing, it's okay…'

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

Gantlos quietly backed up, his usually heavy footfalls as muffled as possible. Ogron was crying quietly into Anagan, his breathing wild and erratic, speaking of a panic attack. A panic attack Anagan was helping him through. While reassuring him that Gantlos had everything under control. He didn't. Not at all. But Ogron had the situation even less in hand, and after all he'd been through, no matter how much Gantlos struggled with engaging, with having to drag himself out of his abyss of brooding and into the weak light, it was his job to hold things together for his friends. His job to keep their world together when it was falling down. He was supposed to be strong for them.

With that thought echoing through his mind, he shoved down his words, stepping back outside. The Sun was high now, and annoyingly dazzling in that Californian way of beaming right down into his eyes. He tugged his hat down low, wishing he'd just stayed in the nice, cool darkness of the warehouse. The sunlight was an assault, too bright, too happy, too much. He used to love too much. He'd loved a big, happy, mohawk-ed ball of too much. But he'd lost that, and now too much just meant he couldn't deal, didn't want to.

Gregory was still over by the shipping containers, but Gantlos's hope for his discipline gave up and died as he saw the shipping container glowing green.

'What are you doing?'

'Gah!'

Gantlos had to dive forwards and grab Gregory, yanking the younger wizard to the floor and shielding him with the best barrier he could muster as the shipping container exploded in a burst of inadvisably-summoned acid green.

They both lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, Gregory staring at the shattered metal in quiet terror, and not a small quantity of awe, while Gantlos felt some small part of himself die. This kid was gonna get himself killed. And, somehow, that was his, Ogron and Anagan's responsibility.