3.3.2

Content warnings: suicidal ideation (passive and active), cancer-related death without explicit descriptions, descriptions of injuries, severe grief/mourning, possession, murder as a form of suicide (detail below; skip if you prefer surprises)

• Suicidal ideation ranging from passive (lack of self-regard) to active (wishing for death)

• At several points, a character dwells on the death of his mother due to cancer.

• Mentions of a character’s bloody injuries, not described in particular detail

• A character is shown mourning to the point he neglects his physical needs.

• A character is possessed by an alternate version of himself. This is not mean to be an accurate depiction of DID (see disclaimer here).

• A character convinces another someone to kill her as a form of suicide.

~.~

Joel wasn’t mad at Auster for wanting powers. He didn’t like Auster’s decision, but he could respect it, because he understood cooking meals and cracking jokes and trying to keep morale up and feeling like it would never be enough.

But Joel also knew from a lifetime of being Joshua’s ray of sunshine that those little moments of comfort really did matter, and seeing Auster discount their value stung, because it almost felt like Auster was discounting Joel. And Auster hadn’t meant it that way—Joel knew that—but it still left feelings of inadequacy swirling in his chest.

It was those feelings that kept Joel from striding into the planning room with confidence. Now that the soul fragment map was finished, there probably wasn’t much Joel could help with—and maybe it couldn’t hurt to ask, but Joel found himself lingering at the entrance to the planning room instead.

Haku was meditating in the beanbag-pillow-rug corner, directing a chaotic symphony of glowing sticky notes and pens with a frown. Kai was resting on a beanbag a few feet away, his broken leg propped up with a pillow. A crystal ball was hovering in front of him, projecting three miniature holographic screens in the air—and it was a good thing that the projections were slightly below eye level, because Kai seemed to be having trouble just keeping his head up. His posture was limp, almost, as if unbearable fatigue weighed down every muscle in his body—and yet somehow he still noticed Joel’s presence.

Kai gestured for Joel to join him, and his warm smile was enough to melt away Joel’s hesitation. Joel did his best to avoid projectile sticky notes as he crossed the room.

“Are you okay?” Joel asked, plopping down next to Kai.

“I… might need help staying awake,” Kai admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But there’s something else I could use your help with now—if you want to, I mean.”

In a flash of light, Kai materialized a small green crystal in his outstretched palm. It looked basically identical to the orange one Joel already had, so Joel was a little confused when Kai tossed the green crystal to him.

“What’s this?” Joel asked, examining the crystal with a frown. “Another teleportation crystal?”

“No,” Kai said, shaking his head. “This one is capable of much more. It allows the user access to a weaker version of most of my powers, and it can channel those powers through the orange crystals everyone else is holding, allowing the user to come to their aid if they require it.”

Kai’s question was clear, though he hadn’t yet asked it. He was offering Joel a real spot on the support team—but Joel knew that these crystals fed off of the energy of their creators, and it seemed redundant for Joel to steal Kai’s energy to do something Kai could very well do on his own.

As if reading Joel’s mind, Kai gave him a weary smile.

“I’m not giving you a toy just to make you feel included,” Kai said bluntly. “Keeping watch for three teams at once is hard, even for me. It will be much easier with another set of eyes—if you’re up for it.”

Joel swallowed. He had actually been helping Karyme in much the same way, but he had been a bystander then, forced to watch helplessly as Peter bled out and Joshua got caught in an explosion and the Necromancer tried to steal Auster’s soul. In that sense, the green crystal was a blessing—a chance to prevent those kinds of things from happening again.

But the crystal felt more like a leaden weight in Joel’s hand—a responsibility too heavy to carry.

“Is it really okay to give me something like this?” Joel said tightly. “What if I mess up and someone gets hurt?”

“Easy now,” Kai said gently, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “I’m not asking you to use that thing in a fight. If you accept, you’ll just be tapping into my sixth sense with that crystal to help me keep an eye out for danger. With two sets of eyes, we’ll catch things faster, allowing me to respond before anyone gets hurt.”

“Then why’d you give the crystal all your other powers?” Joel pressed. “Isn’t that kinda pointless if you just want me to watch?”

“Well, there are certain non-emergent situations that you might be able to help with,” Kai said with a shrug. “Maybe the others need help levitating across a ditch. Maybe they need to shoot down a locked door. You can handle those obstacles without me, don’t you think?”

Joel let out a shaky breath. It was still scary to hold this much power in his hands, even if Kai wasn’t expecting him to handle anything on his own, but this would lessen the strain on Kai, at least—and given the immortal’s drooping eyelids and sagging head, easing Kai’s burden was probably crucial to everyone’s safety.

“Okay, I’m in,” Joel decided, his voice unwavering. “As long as you teach me how to use this crystal first.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kai said smoothly. “Oh, and don’t worry about Joshua—I cleared this with him ahead of time, and he agreed to let you help as long as I promised to walk you through your math homework later.”

“What? No fair!” Joel pouted. “You’re such a sellout!”

“Sorry,” Kai said lightly, patting Joel on the head. “But I was always on math’s side.”

“Well, enjoy being on the boring side of the war,” Joel huffed, turning away. “With allies like ‘watching paint dry’ and ‘waiting for water to boil’ I’m sure you’re having a great time.”

That comeback wasn’t one of Joel’s greatest hits, really, but for some reason, that was the one that got Kai to laugh—and it was jarring, hearing Kai laugh, because it was so genuine, and it made Joel realize that as much as he’d seen Kai smile, all of those smiles had been weary or bitter or wistful or just plain sad.

And Kai might’ve been a stranger, but even strangers deserved a real smile.

“All right, old man,” Joel said brightly. “Time’s a ticking. Where do we start?”

The three holographic screens before them each showed a different team—one knee-deep in snow, one in a bustling nighttime cityscape, and one surrounded by desert sands. It looked like nothing notable had happened just yet, but Joel wasn’t going to sit back and wait for trouble.

“For now, we’ll tackle everything together,” Kai explained. “Once you’re comfortable using the crystal, we can wean you off of my help. Sound good?”

“Aye aye, cap’n!” Joel chirped, giving Kai a salute.

The bemused smile Joel got in return wasn’t forced, per se—it just wasn’t whole, either, and now that Joel had heard Kai’s real laugh, this shadow of joy, tainted with melancholy, was underwhelming. And maybe Kai didn’t have a lot of things to be happy about right now, but Joel resolved to drag a real smile out of him regardless, because everyone deserved at least one real smile on their birthday.

~.~

As soon as Morgan, Juli, and Lian stepped into the remote Himalayan mountain pass, Juli started to shiver. Peter had materialized winter coats for the three of them (after some threats from Dani), and Lian had insisted that the three of them wear scarves, gloves, and hats, but it still wasn’t enough—especially since the valley they were standing in was essentially a wind tunnel, bound by slopes on three sides.

But it was the view, rather than the cold, that took Juli’s breath away.

It was like someone had slathered the valley in a thick layer of marshmallow creme. The moonlight lent an ethereal glow to the blanketed terrain, and neighboring peaks, backlit by an infinite sea of stars, cast dark shadows across the smooth white canvas. Within seconds, Juli’s feet sank into the ground, leaving everything below their knees soaked through, but they were more focused on the wet snowflakes landing on their cheeks.

Snow was more beautiful than they’d ever imagined it could be.

“Hey, Juli, are you going to heat us up or not?” Morgan snapped. “It’s fucking cold!”

“Ah, right, sorry!” Juli said sheepishly.

Creating an aura of heat, as opposed to shaping flames, was something Juli had resorted to in the past to hide their illegally obtained power. It had taken a lot of concentration back then, because Juli had been trying to manipulate atmospheric heat like a normal pyrokinetic—but now that Juli understood that their flames came from inside them, it was surprisingly easy to channel that power into creating a bubble of heat.

“Ohhh, thank god.” Lian let out a contented sigh. “Thanks, Juli!”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem,” Juli said with a grin. “And, uh, sorry for th’ delay. It’s just—the snow’s prettier than I thought it would be.”

“Isn’t it?” Lian’s cheeks were ruddy from the cold, their eyes alight. “I had never seen snow before, but it’s gorgeous! Don’t you think so, too, Morgan?”

“Uh… yeah,” Morgan said slowly, shoving their gloved hands in their pockets. “It’s definitely… white. And wet. And cold. But I knew that already.”

“Oh, so you’ve seen snow before?” Juli cocked their head to the side. “Did ya end up going somewhere snowy for a mafia trip or somethin’?”

“No,” Morgan muttered. They buried their face further into their scarf. “I’ve never left Houston.”

“Oh!” Lian’s face lit up. “You’ve made it snow before, then?”

“Yeah. I wanted to see if I could do it,” Morgan explained. “I made it snow inside, though—I’m not stupid enough to make it snow in Texas.”

“Damn!” Juli whistled. “Doing that without anyone finding out—that’s pretty ballsy! I bet the cleanup job fucking sucked.”

“It was wet and cold, just like I said before,” Morgan shot back, and Juli could have sworn they were scowling beneath their scarf. “Anyway. Do we know where we’re going?”

Juli scanned the U-shaped valley with a frown. The bracelet around his wrist seemed to like the back of the valley, where the two neighboring slopes came together—which was weird, because there was nothing there except snow. Morgan and Lian were looking in the same direction, though—and that could only mean one thing.

“All of our bracelets are pointing that way,” Juli guessed, pointing to the back of the valley. Morgan and Lian both nodded. Juli sighed.

“Fucking fantastic,” Morgan grumbled. They directed their next words to the sky. “Hey, Kai, where the fuck are we going?”

There’s no need to shout. I’m right here.

Kai’s voice carried a mix of parental disapproval and exasperation, and though Juli could not see Kai, they could hear the frown in his voice. Juli snickered into his scarf.

Then hurry up and tell us where to go, Morgan snapped, still glaring at the sky. It’s cold.

Your bracelets are leading you in the right direction, Kai said calmly. But what you’re looking for is currently under several feet of snow.

And what’re we looking for, exactly? Juli asked. Like, I can melt the snow, but it might help if I know what to expect.

A temple, Kai answered. I can tell you what it looked like 1400 years ago, but… I doubt most of it survived.

Oh. Juli gulped. Okay.

Onward, then! Lian cheered.

Lian tried to take a step forward, but they were still knee-deep in snow, and the aura of heat around the trio had only softened the snow a little bit, so their forward momentum just threw them off balance, and they ended up facedown.

Juli laughed. He freed his legs with a quick burst of flame, hoping to help Lian—except on his next step forward, his leg sank into the snow past his knee. Juli groaned.

Even with a shroud of flames around his legs, Juli still struggled to cross the five feet between himself and Lian. His journey left a trail of melting pockmarks in the snow behind him, and by the time he reached Lian, they had managed to get onto their hands and knees. It still took some maneuvering for Juli to help Lian up without dragging them both right back down.

“Snow shoes,” Juli said through gritted teeth. “We should have asked Peter for snow shoes.”

“Y-yeah,” Lian said shakily, their teeth chattering. The front of their pastel pink coat was still caked with snow, and their nose was running a little bit. Juli upped the heat around Lian to help them warm back up.

“Can’t you melt us a path like you just did?” Morgan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I could,” Juli said, tapping their chin. “But what I just did—it’s not stable. If this stuff really is several feet deep, meltin’ holes like that is just askin’ for the ground to collapse.”

If I may, Kai interjected. I think Joel may have a solution for you.

Joel? Lian dusted their coat off with a frown. What do you mean?

Kai gave me a crystal that I can use to help you—with Josh’s permission, of course, Joel explained. So… let’s see. I think it works like this?

A translucent green platform, much like one of Dani’s shields, appeared next to the trio, hovering mere inches above the snow. Juli freed his legs from the white powdery death trap with a grin.

Boy, oh boy, do I love having a good man in the chair, Juli sang, clambering onto the platform. You got a license to fly this thing?

Nope! Joel said cheerfully. Josh wouldn’t even let me get a learners permit.

I really hope you’re joking, Morgan grumbled. They used a gust of wind to boost themself onto the platform, then helped Lian up with an outstretched hand.

I would never joke around, Joel said solemnly. I take my job more seriously than my math homework.

Which is saying almost nothing, Lian butted in. But I don’t mind being your guinea pig! You drive and I’ll be your GPS.

Juli half expected Joel to pull something similar to Peter’s stunt at the hotel in Port Moresby, but Joel actually started off slow and careful. As he went, his driving became smoother, faster, more confident, and soon they were whizzing across the snow. Juli let Lian handle the navigation, opting instead to focus on maintaining the bubble of heat around them. It wasn’t easy, given the rush of cold air blowing into their faces as they moved, but Morgan raised the ambient temperature a few degrees, easing the strain on Juli just a little bit.

Still, Juli had a pounding headache by the time the platform came to a stop. They were hovering a couple hundred feet from the back of the valley, and from this distance, Juli could appreciate how steep the cliff face really was—it was practically vertical.

Oookay, so, how do we dig down to this temple? Juli asked, staring grimly at the snow. They were within arms reach of the ground, but the bracelet was definitely tugging Juli towards some spot far below the surface.

You can use a fire blast to melt a way down? Morgan suggested.

And then what? Lian asked. If we jump down, we’ll just break our legs when we land.

Well, I bet Joel could turn this platform into an elevator, Juli said slowly. But the surroundin’ snow will definitely collapse on us like an avalanche while we’re gettin’ lowered down.

Oh, I know—you should create a reverse avalanche! Joel exclaimed.

A what now? Juli’s face scrunched up in confusion. You’re gonna have to speak down to my level, chief. I’m not as smart as you.

A reverse avalanche, Joel repeated. You know—using sound and wind and stuff to knock the snow away before it falls on you.

Oh, I see! Lian grinned. A Lian-Morgan team combo—sounds fun!

That reminds me—Morgan, how good are you with air pressure? Kai asked.

Good enough to make storms, wind, and lightning, Morgan said thinly. Why?

Sound is generated via cyclic variations in air pressure, Kai explained. So you could likely strengthen Lian’s attacks a great deal once you gain better control.

Oh my god, Joel groaned. You weren’t kidding. You really did learn physics to make you stronger.

Why would I lie about that? Kai said coyly. In any case—I won’t go into the details now, but remind me to show you two later.

Juli half expected Morgan to lash out in reply, but her expression shifted instead to one of contemplation, as if she were really considering learning physics for the sake of control. Juli hadn’t really pegged Morgan as the patient type, but maybe having some kind of guiding theory would help her feel more secure about her powers.

Okay, okay, great, Juli said dismissively. Nerdery aside, we’ve got a plan, yeah?

Seems like it, Lian agreed. They turned to Morgan, eyes alight. I’ll focus on the left, you take the right?

Sure, whatever, Morgan replied, shifting into a broader stance. Whenever you’re ready.

Juli let out a slow exhale as they knelt near the center of the platform. Calling flames to their fingertips was easy. Shooting a fireball at the snow would be just as easy. But it was cold enough here that the snow wouldn’t melt instantaneously, so Juli would have to keep a sustained layer of flames beneath them to pave the way forward.

As Juli coated the bottom side of the platform in baby pink flames, their gaze flitted to Morgan, searching for signs of distress. Maybe it was silly to worry like this, but Juli knew he wasn’t the only one who had gained a fear of fire from Dimension X. He could see it most clearly in Joshua—the guy went out of his way to avoid Juli, and given how Juli’s shadow clone had burnt Joshua to a crisp, that made sense. But Joshua hadn’t been Shadow Juli’s only victim, and Juli still couldn’t tell if Morgan had been affected the same way.

If Morgan reacted at all, Juli couldn’t see it through the layers of winter clothing.

With a sigh, Juli turned their gaze back to the rapidly melting snow beneath them. It was slow going at first, but as the top layers of snow disappeared, it became easier and easier to break through. It was kind of satisfying to watch the white powder turn transparent before dissolving away like cotton candy. Above Juli, Lian and Morgan kept most of the tumbling snowdrifts out of the way, though the occasional clump of wet powder still pelted Juli’s hat and shoulders.

By the time the platform landed on rocky ground, Juli’s flames were the only real source of light. The surface was at least six stories above them now, and they were blocked in by walls of packed snow in all directions except one. Somehow, against all laws of physics, a tunnel cut through the snow before them, headed in the direction of the vertical cliff face.

And there was another impossible mystery, too.

It was warmer down here. Nowhere near room temperature, mind you, but when Juli suspended the aura of heat around them, the temperature was no longer frostbite-inducing. Juli was glad for the break, since they’d be acting like a human torch for a bit anyway.

“Onward?” Juli asked, cupping of ball of flame in one hand.

“Yep!” Lian said cheerfully. “On we go!”

Juli took the lead, using their hand to light the way forward. The walls and ceiling of the tunnel were eerily smooth, as if someone had carved a perfect rectangular prism out of the snow. Some sort of magic must have kept the ceiling from crumbling inward, because there were no mechanical supports to keep the snow in place, either. It was unnerving, even more so because their footsteps were too quiet against the bedrock, dampened by the acoustic properties of snow.

“Feels kinda like we’re excavating some ruins or something, don’t ya think?” Juli remarked.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing, though?” Morgan pointed out. “Kai said this place is 1400 years old, so it’s basically an archaeological dig site.”

“Careful, Morgan. You’re going to make Kai feel old,” Lian teased.

I have never understood the modern aversion towards aging, Kai said airily. Old age used to be a sign of wisdom and strength, you know.

Good going, Lian, Juli groaned. You got him started on the “back in my day” bullshit.

He did that all on his own! Lian protested.

Riiight, Juli said dryly. Tell that to—

Juli’s voice broke off abruptly as they reached a dead end. At first glance, Juli thought they’d simply run into the cliff they had been walking towards, but as they ran their fingers along the wall, they realized the texture was wrong. The surface was too uneven and fractured to be composed from a single chunk of rock, which meant it wasn’t a simple cliff or mountainside.

“Lian,” Juli said carefully. “I need to you to blow this wall wide open.”

“What?” Lian yelped. “You want me to what?”

“This wall. I think it was made from a cave-in of some kind,” Juli explained, prying some gravel loose. “If you hit it hard enough, it should bust open.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Lian said weakly. “What if the soundwave causes the tunnel to collapse?”

“The ceiling’s already being kept up by magic,” Morgan pointed out, jerking a thumb upwards. “So you’re probably fine.”

“O-okay. Right. Okay.”

Lian let out a shaky breath as they turned to face the wall, and Juli took that as his cue to get the fuck out of the way. This turned out to be a good call, because seconds later, an ear-piercing rendition of “I Don’t Dance” from High School Musical 2 rang through the air, blasting the wall to smithereens.

“High School Musical 2?” Juli deadpanned, their ears still ringing. “Really?”

“It’s my comfort song!” Lian huffed, turning away. “And it’s a good choice, too!”

“Careful,” Morgan said dryly. “You’re going to unlock Lian’s hour-long monologue about Dylan and Brad or whatever.”

“Ryan and Chad!” Lian fumed. “It’s Ryan and Chad, and they’re—”

Juli started picking their way through the rubble while Lian continued to rant about the nuances of Ryan and Chad’s blossoming relationship. Lian was kind of making some points, actually, but Juli was more focused on the gaping cavern ahead. They couldn’t see a thing. The darkness swallowed any meager light provided by the fireball in Juli’s hand. But as the three of them stepped over the last of the debris, there was a blinding flash of light.

And suddenly the space was awash with sepia, as if the air itself was aglow.

Juli could see, now, that they were standing in the grand hall of a temple, and they felt dwarfed by the sheer scale of the space. The room was rectangular, carved out of the white stone of the mountain, with a vaulted ceiling too high to see. A twenty foot tall statue of white marble loomed over them from atop an altar in the center of the room. The statue depicted a woman with long hair and flowing robes, adorned with blue and orange flower garlands. Trails of smoke from incense burners curled around her feet.

Reliefs depicting the woman’s struggle against demons and darkness alike were carved into the walls, and intricate serpentine pillars bracketed the four corners of the room, marking the main corridors. At the back of the room, a large spiral staircase snaked down from an unseen upper floor into the inky darkness below.

“It’s beautiful,” Juli breathed. Their footsteps echoed endlessly through the space as they led the way towards the altar.

“It’s impossible is what it is,” Morgan pointed out. “None of this should still be in one piece.”

“I don’t think it is in one piece,” Lian said quietly. “Look at the walls, the floor, the color of the light—it looks like we’re in a movie flashback.”

Lian was right. While the statue was definitely solid, every surface in the room shimmered with an ethereal quality, as if the past was being projected like a hologram onto the present. The sepia tint was warm, almost idyllic, and the air carried a sense of comfort. It felt like… home.

The trio was within a few feet of the altar when a pair of ghostly blue apparitions appeared before them. Lian let out a startled squeak, and Juli tensed, ready to fight—until they realized that the ghosts couldn’t see them at all.

One of the ghosts was clearly Jinal, though her hair was way longer than Juli remembered. She was dressed in a plain cloth sari, complete with all the traditional jewelry, and her braid swung past the sword at her hip. The other person was dressed in simple robes, their face an indistinct haze of blue.

“Is this structure to your liking, prophet?” the person asked, bowing their head in respect.

“Oh, um…” Jinal surveyed the statue with a frown. “It’s… well done. That is certainly what Karai looks like.”

“Glad to hear it.” The other person raised their head. “Is there anything you would like us to change? You seem uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no, it’s—it’s nothing you’ve done,” Jinal said quickly. “It’s just… strange to be addressed with such deference.”

“Strange?” The other person cocked their head to the side in confusion. “You saved my family—no, my people—from ruin. As a chosen prophet, you wield power beyond comprehension. Is it really so strange for us to revere you?”

Jinal gaze held a certain weariness as she looked upon the statue of Karai once more. Her brow was furrowed with unease, but her resolve was clear in her tense frown and clenched jaw.

“Perhaps not,” Jinal said quietly. “It is just something I will have to grow accustomed to.”

The pair faded away—and then two pink apparitions took their place. The one on the left was Jinal, much as she’d looked in the previous scene, but without the jewelry. The second one took Juli a little longer to recognize. She was taller than Jinal, with curly hair that barely reached past the angle of her jaw, but the paler eyes and wider nose—that was probably Minerva, even though her hair wasn’t yet dyed with streaks of pink.

“Ohhh my god, today sucked,” Minerva complained, plopping down at the base of the altar.

“Minerva, you’re not supposed to sit there!” Jinal scolded. “Get up before someone sees you.”

“Why? So I can keep trickin’ them into thinking I’m some picture perfect prophet?” Minerva scoffed. She leaned against the statue of Karai, arms crossed. “Please. You and I both know you hate that stuff as much as I do.”

“It doesn’t matter whether I like it or not,” Jinal said sternly. “It’s important to keep up appearances.”

“Why, though?” Minerva pressed. “Like, what do you gain by following all these rules? I’d understand if you had been the one who made the rules, but all these stuffy priests—”

“Power,” Jinal interrupted. “I gain power and range. It is far easier for me to find people like you when I have an entire religious organization at my disposal.”

“Oh.” Minerva frowned. “Well you shouldn’t sacrifice your own freedom just for that! It’s silly!”

“Is it now?” Jinal’s tone gained a bitter edge. “I was able to keep you alive because I found you quickly enough to protect you from your own powers. Don’t take that for granted.”

“Yeah, and?” Minerva argued. “I appreciate the help, but I dunno why you think my future is more important than yours.”

“I’m going to turn that on you instead,” Jinal said coolly. She leaned over and tilted Minerva’s chin up with one hand, forcing the girl to make eye contact. “What makes my happiness more important than your life?”

Minerva’s glare was fiercely defiant, but it crumbled in the face of Jinal’s firm resolve.

“Fine, fine, you win.” Minerva rose to her feet with a huff. “I’ll keep playing along, even if I hate it—but only because it’s important to you. You might not care about your own well-being, but I do.”

The apparitions dissipated in a puff of smoke, but not before Juli caught the shock on Jinal’s face. As the pair vanished, the toll of a bell sounded through the space, and a pink garland settled around the Karai statue’s neck.

Wait, Morgan said slowly. Jinal was a religious figurehead?

We all were, Kai replied. Jinal didn’t found the Temple of Karai intentionally, but people began to worship her against her will, so she used it to her advantage.

And they were crazy enough about her to carve a building into the side of a mountain? Juli gave an impressed whistle. Sheez. That’s insane.

Huh. Why haven’t I heard about this before? Lian said with a frown. This feels like basic history stuff.

Oh, I know this one! Joel chimed in. Karyme is always complaining about how The Necromancer erased all the good stuff from the history books.

Historical revisionism, Kai supplied. That is certainly a factor—though I doubt the history of the Temple of Karai was well-preserved to begin with.

Why’s that? Juli asked.

Before Kai could answer, a pair of apparitions appeared on the staircase—one pink, one blue. Juli had to squint to make out the details, but it looked like the pink one was a slightly older Minerva and the blue one was the same old Jinal. Minerva was hanging upside down, her knees locked around the staircase railing. Next to her, Jinal rested her elbows on the railing as she surveyed the grand hall. Luckily, their voices rang clear as day, immune to the acoustics of the space, and Juli could hear their conversation easily.

“This is soooo boring,” Minerva complained. “It’s been, what, two hundred years? And we still haven’t found the next guy in the chain!”

“One hundred and seventy-eight years since you started living here,” Jinal corrected. “And I waited a bit longer than that for you, so it might be a while yet.”

“You did?” In a maneuver that probably took a lot of ab strength, Minerva curled slightly upward so she could see Jinal’s face.

“I did,” Jinal said calmly, her lips twisting into a half smile. “I didn’t mind it though. I’m bound to this plane regardless. But if you’re bored… I stand by what I told you all those years ago, when we first met.”

“Oh, stop it!” Minerva huffed, uncurling so forcefully that she swung backwards. “I already told you—I’m not gonna leave you, and especially not over something dumb like this!”

“Mhm.” Jinal seemed unconvinced. “I appreciate it, but… you shouldn’t prioritize my happiness over yours.”

“Ohhh my god. We’re not doing this again,” Minerva groaned, burying her face in her hands. “My future isn’t more important than yours and vice versa. I get it—but this is my decision. You’re stuck with me.”

“Whatever you say, Minerva,” Jinal said wearily, her gaze distant. “Just know that you can revoke that decision at any time.”

The two apparitions disintegrated into flower petals that scattered on the wind. Considering the fact that Minerva had died later on, Juli had a very bad feeling about that conversation, but they decided to push that aside for now.

How long did they end up waiting here for you? Lian asked, directing their question to the sky.

Two centuries, Kai answered. But they did not wait in this location specifically. I got the sense that they did not settle down here until Ven came along.

As if on cue, a set of translucent yellow apparitions appeared behind the trio, close to the temple’s entrance. Minerva was kneeling next to a young child with a messy mop of hair, an ill-fitting tunic, and a couple of missing baby teeth. She was trying to clean something off of the squirming child’s cheek, and she was very much not succeeding.

Right as Minerva was about to give up, a third apparition strode through the temple doors—a teenage boy dressed in long, flowing robes with loose, trailing sleeves. His hair was pulled back in a topknot encircled by an ornate golden band. The clothes would have looked uncomfortable on anyone else, but this teenager wore them with grace.

As soon as the teenager entered the temple, the child broke free from Minerva’s grip, racing to greet this new intruder.

“All right, mister, let’s get one thing straight!” The child’s features settled into a determined pout. “I’m prophet number four, got it?”

“What?” The teenager blinked. “Perhaps this is my mistake, but—have we met?”

“Nope! But I know who you are,” the child replied, grinning. “And now you know who I am! I’m Ven, and I’m the fourth prophet of Karai!”

“Are you now?” Minerva caught up to the child with a laugh. “That’s pretty bold, Ven.”

“I am!” Ven said proudly, hands on her hips. “And you’re just going to have to deal with it, mister Kai.”

“But I’m… older,” Kai said hesitantly. His brow was furrowed in uncertainty as he tried to parse how exactly to deal with Ven.

“I don’t care how old you are—they found me first!” Ven asserted, sticking his tongue out.

“Sorry, Kai, but Ven’s technically right,” Minerva said, patting Ven on the head. “We found her first. We just started training you first, since we had no plans to teach a six year old how to fight.”

“Oh.” Kai swallowed. “But now you brought Ven here because you didn’t have a choice.”

“See? So even though you started training first, I’m the fourth!” Ven said triumphantly.

For a second, teenage Kai remained silent, his expression grim—and then he gained a twinkle in his eye, akin to the coy smile he always took with Joel in the present day.

“Fine, fine, I admit defeat.” Kai let out a theatrical sigh. “You can be fourth, but only if… you can escape this!”

With a mischievous smile, Kai shot a gust of wind at Ven—just strong enough to mess up the child’s hair even further—and giddy laughter rang through the air as Kai began to chase Ven with outstretched arms.

Even as the apparitions faded away, Ven’s laughter continued to reverberate through the hall.

Orbs of yellow light, like fireflies, drifted from the spot where the ghosts had been, coalescing into yellow and green garlands around the Karai statue’s arms—and then there was a burst of white light from the statue’s heart, and suddenly the hall was abuzz with activity.

A dizzying number of spirits infused with pink, yellow, and blue now filled every inch of the hall with their chatter. It was impossible to keep track of them all. In one corner, a ghostly yellow Ven climbed onto a teenage Kai’s shoulders to reach a precariously placed jar—and then that cluster of spirits drifted apart, leaving space open for a pink Minerva to chase a shirtless Ven into the nearby hallway. And across the room, a translucent blue Jinal corrected teenage Kai’s form as he wielded his two-handed sword, while behind them, a slightly older Kai, laden with boxes, followed Minerva up the stairs.

Memories. That’s what these were—cherished moments from day-to-day life, baked so deep into the foundation of this place that even now, centuries later, they infused the hollow cavern with life. Watching the apparitions flit from place to place, speaking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company brought a smile to Juli’s face. They understood, now, why Kai had called this place “home for a while.”

Juli turned to Morgan and Lian, ready to plan their next course of action, but neither of the two were paying attention. Lian was taking in the scene with teary eyes, and Morgan was slack-jawed as they looked around with awe.

The two of you seem surprised.

Juli directed the thought at Morgan and Lian alone, locking Kai and Joel out of the conversation. Lian, ever the open book, almost jumped in surprise.

It’s just… so different from what we’ve seen, Lian said softly. Haku’s memories sounded horrifying, and Kai’s were bittersweet at best, but this is so…

They’re happy, Morgan agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. They were happy here.

Uh, yeah? Juli frowned. You really think Kai spent all nine hundred years of his life in pain?

No! Lian said quickly. No, you’re right. It’s just strange that we haven’t seen anything like this before.

I don’t think it’s strange at all, Juli countered. It’s like—if you asked me for a list of the biggest moments in my life, my mom’s death is number one. But you know what’s not on there? The surprise parties she held for me, or the times she took me to the park, or the movie nights we shared. That list isn’t gonna have any of the reasons it hurt to see her go.

Oh, Lian said quietly. I get it.

The pity on Lian’s face stirred something bitter in Juli’s chest. Lian already knew about Juli’s mom. Everyone did, actually, because they had all gotten to watch Juli’s mom die in real time, courtesy of the shared dreams. It wasn’t a secret—but it also wasn’t a topic Juli cared to dwell on, and they scrambled to change the subject.

Damn, Kai! Juli whistled as a teenage Kai ran past, giving baby Ven a piggyback ride. You dressed like in one of those period dramas. Full hanfu and everything.

I want you to take that statement, Kai said dryly. Repeat it in your head again. And then think about when these memories took place, and consider what a period drama is usually based on.

Oh, Juli said sheepishly. Their scarf suddenly felt too warm. Point taken.

When did all of this take place, anyway? Morgan asked. And don’t say the past. Juli clearly had issues with that one but the rest of us got that far.

This temple was built in the 2nd century, Kai answered. Minerva was born in the fourth century. Ven and I started living here in the sixth century, so most of what you are seeing here occurred in the years between our arrival and Mateen’s birth in the seventh century.

Shit, Juli breathed. This place is old.

Older than Haku, Kai said lightly. But only because it was destroyed in the eighth century.

Kai, in the bit we just saw—what did you mean about Ven not having a choice? Lian asked.

Yaran killed Ven’s parents when she was six, just a month after I exiled myself, Kai said softly. So both of us ended up living here around the same time.

And then you let Ven have seniority because you’re a spineless wimp, Morgan noted. Nice.

Perhaps, Kai replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. But I hardly think it a crime to allow a small degree of control to a six year old who had just lost everything as a victim of circumstance.

A slightly older Ven ran past the trio. Her hair was longer—almost to her shoulders, now—and her tunic was smudged with dirt. This golden spirit seemed more substantial than the others, and it even looked back at the trio, as if beckoning them to follow. Juli, Lian, and Morgan exchanged glances—and then they ran after Ven.

Ven seemed to be running towards a ghostly yellow apparition of Kai, who was in the process of sorting through scrolls on a bookshelf. This Kai was maybe a year or two older. He had exchanged his hanfu for simple temple robes, and his topknot was no longer held in place by the ornate circlet; instead, he used an unadorned hair stick and a simple band of cloth. A braid peeked out of the back of the bun, running towards the nape of his neck—the only sign that Kai’s hair had grown.

“Kai, Kai, Kai!”

Ven bounded up to Kai, skidding to a stop against his thigh. Kai turned to Ven with a long-suffering sigh, scroll still in hand.

“Do you need something, Ven?” Kai asked, frowning down at the child.

“I’m hungry!” Ven whined, tugging at Kai’s robes. “When are we gonna eat dinner?”

“Minerva and Jinal should be returning for dinner shortly,” Kai said sternly, turning back to the shelf. “In the meantime, I can get you some fruit, if you’d like.”

“I don’t want fruit! I want real food!” Ven pouted. “Why can’t you cook dinner?”

“Because I don’t know how,” Kai said evenly. It was subtle, but his jaw clenched as he scanned the shelf, looking to rid himself of the scroll in his hand.

“Why not?” Ven frowned. “Didn’t your parents teach you how to cook?”

Kai’s hand jolted to a stop halfway through reshelving the last scroll. A mix of shame and grief flashed across his face, and though he was turned away from Ven, she seemed to catch onto his discomfort.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter!” Ven said brightly, nudging Kai’s leg. “Come help me reach the fruit.”

“Okay,” Kai said tightly. His movements were rigid as he shelved the scroll, and when Ven took his hand to guide him, he didn’t pull away.

Unlike the other apparitions, Kai and Ven didn’t disappear as they made their way towards the staircase, and Juli took that as his cue to keep following them. The stairs were wide but not particularly steep, so it wasn’t too difficult to follow the ghosts up the staircase. Halfway up, Ven disappeared and Kai faded into a pale blue—a sign that this was Jinal’s memory now.

Kai departed from the staircase at the next landing, even though the stairs went up at least another level. Juli, Morgan, and Lian followed him down a corridor and into what looked like a primitive kitchen of sorts. There was a hearth in one corner, and a couple of doors that probably led to pantries and the like. Kai crouched next to the hearth with care and began to stir a bubbling cauldron as Jinal phased into existence next to him. She wore the same simple robes, but her sleeves were rolled up a little.

“You’re making good progress, Kai,” Jinal noted, peeking into the cauldron. “You didn’t overcook the meat this time, and your choice of ingredients for the stew was more sensible.”

“Thanks,” Kai said dryly, giving Jinal a half-smile. “I just followed your instructions, though.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jinal said warmly. “It is quite easy to mess up cooking even with the proper instructions.”

“Right.” Kai averted his gaze. “I see.”

The two fell into silence, interrupted only by the scrape of the ladle against the cauldron whenever Kai moved to stir the stew. Jinal regarded Kai with a concerned frown. He was clearly doing his best not to make eye contact with her, and that just increased her worry.

“Kai,” she said softly. “You don’t need to be ashamed about this. I don’t mind teaching you how to cook, and… everyone starts somewhere, you know?”

“I know,” Kai said miserably. “It’s just… difficult to ignore why I lack this particular skill. The lavish circumstances of my childhood were justifiable only in the context of the imperial duties I was born to fulfill—yet I have abandoned the throne. Now I am nothing more than a spoiled brat, unable to provide for himself.”

“It’s not your fault you were spoiled,” Jinal pointed out. “I think it says more about you that you were willing to walk away from wealth beyond measure for the safety of the people you were meant to serve.”

“I… guess so,” Kai said haltingly. He continued to stare intently at the stew, clearly unconvinced. Jinal let out a defeated sigh.

“Why the sudden interest in cooking, anyway?” she asked, changing the subject. “You’ve been around for almost two years, now, so what changed in the last two weeks?”

“It was… nothing,” Kai said evenly. “I just thought I should start pulling my own weight.”

“Nothing?” Jinal gave Kai a coy smile. “Riiight. I’ll be sure to tell Ven you called him nothing later—since you’re clearly learning for his sake.”

Kai’s head snapped up to face Jinal, his shock so pronounced that he almost dropped the ladle into the cauldron, and the apparitions dissolved to the sound of Jinal’s laughter.

Awww, you learned to cook for Ven? Lian cooed. That’s really sweet!

Not as sweet as the way Jinal totally saw right through him, Morgan said with a grin. Is she still able to read you like a book?

I’m not answering that question, Kai said thinly.

Gee, Kai, you sound embarrassed, Juli teased. It’s almost like this is more mortifying than your soul fragment memories.

Oh, no, I’m actually quite thrilled that you’re walking through my high school yearbook, Kai said sarcastically. I can’t wait for you to stumble upon something I blocked out of my memory.

Juli laughed. Out of the corner of their eye, they noticed a flicker of yellow at the door they’d come from—but when they turned around, it was gone.

“Well, it seems like Ven is leadin’ the way, so…” Juli turned to Lian. “Is your bracelet givin’ ya any hints about where to go?”

Lian waved their arm in all different directions, brow furrowed in concentration.

“I think we’re going up,” they decided. “And maybe other places, too, but that’s all I can tell right now.”

Lian took the lead as the trio made their way back to the stairs, then started climbing. The staircase spiraled upward within a cylindrical stone shaft with openings in the side walls at each landing. As they climbed, voices echoed down the stairwell.

“You look upset,” Minerva remarked.

“It’s… nothing,” Kai said haltingly.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me!” Ven chirped.

“I—” Kai sighed. “It’s just my hair. Over the past few moons, it has stopped growing.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna stop aging soon,” Minerva noted. “Nice, nice. Welcome to the club.”

“Why’s the hair thing matter?” Ven said innocently. “You don’t cut it anyway!”

“There’s… a reason for that,” Kai said quietly. “Where I come from, it is traditional to stop cutting one’s hair upon hitting adulthood. Young adults are encouraged to do the same. But… it seems my hair is going to stop growing before I come of age.”

“Oh.” The frown was audible in Ven’s voice. “Well—I’m sorry that you’re gonna stop aging soon, but at least you got taller than Minnie before you stopped growing!”

“Ven,” Minerva said flatly. “I am going to throw you down the stairs on the count of three.”

“Ack! Wait, no—”

“One. Two.”

“Minnie, please!”

The voices faded away as the trio emerged into an open space about the size of a basketball court. They must have been near the mountain’s peak, because large circular openings had been carved into the sloped stone ceiling, allowing sunlight to filter in through stained glass.

The floor was shaped like a circle, with broad, flat tiles made of alternating white and black marble. The walls of the room were, as far as Juli could tell, made from the actual mountainside, but skilled artists had incorporated the rough, uneven shapes into detailed carvings of Karai and Yaran and the like. The room was otherwise bare aside from the raised semicircular platform at the far end of the room. The platform, too, was decorated with ornate stone carvings, and the altar at its center was flanked by two serpentine pillars.

“Soooo this place was used for ceremonies and shit,” Juli guessed, gesturing towards the stage.

It was supposed to be strictly for that purpose, Kai replied. But sometimes we were… creative with the rules.

A yellow apparition wielding a wooden sword appeared before them. Ven was older now, maybe ten or so. She was dressed in a loose tunic and pants, cinched at the waist with rope, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail to keep the loose strands out of her eyes as she trained. Ven appeared to be locked in a duel against a training dummy—which was really just a magically animated conglomerate of potato sacks—and right as that thought occurred to Juli, the dummy knocked Ven’s wooden sword out of her hand.

“Having trouble?”

A ghostly yellow Kai materialized next to Ven. He, too, looked older, taller, more muscular. He was dressed in the same training clothes as Ven with one key difference—the sword at his hip was real. Though his hair was styled in the same formal topknot as before, the air of grace about him was less manufactured, as if he’d finally grown into all of the regal mannerisms he’d been taught as a child.

“Don’t say it like that,” Ven grumbled, arms crossed. “It’s not like this is new. I’ve never been good at using swords, and I’m not getting any better!”

“I see.” Kai bent down and picked up the wooden sword. As he examined the weapon, his expression turned to one of contemplation.

“What’s that look for?” Ven asked, leaning into Kai’s personal space. She wasn’t even tall enough to reach Kai’s elbow.

“I was just… thinking,” Kai said slowly. “Part of the reason you are struggling with a sword is your stature. Your legs are short relative to the rest of your body, so you cannot dodge as quickly, and your arms are short relative to your opponent’s, so you have less reach.”

“I’ll outgrow that eventually, though!” Ven huffed.

“Maybe you will,” Kai conceded with a shrug. “But that is only part of the problem. The other part is that you lack discipline.”

“Hey!” Ven said indignantly, headbutting Kai’s elbow. “I do not!”

“Right.” Kai sounded thoroughly unimpressed. “Let’s assume I believe you. My point was not to discourage you. I simply think you ought to choose a weapon that better suits your strengths.”

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Ven puffed out their cheeks. “I can’t learn to use a weapon without someone around to teach me, and Jinal only uses swords, and Minnie only uses axes. So those are my options.”

“You forgot one other person who might be able to teach you.”

With a snap of Kai’s fingers, the wooden sword and training dummy dissolved into a swirl of green sparks that coalesced into malleable light in his hands. Kai pulled the light taut with his right hand, forming a bowstring, then traced a sleek curve with his left, allowing the grip of the bow to settle beneath his curled fingers.

It was Ven’s turn to be unimpressed.

“Can you even use that thing?” Ven asked, hands on her hips.

“Make an arrow and we’ll see,” Kai shot back, a twinkle in his eye. “I would make my own, but I prefer not to be accused of cheating when I hit my mark.”

Ven’s expression twisted into a skeptical frown, but they fashioned an arrow out of golden light as directed. Kai wordlessly accepted the arrow as he scanned the area for a suitable target—and then his gaze landed on one of the stone pillars, maybe a hundred feet away. Intricately carved patterns marched around the rectangular column, portraying sacred tales of Karai’s exploits. Perched atop the three-story tall pillar was a figurine of Karai, about the size of a car tire.

Kai nocked the arrow with ease, his movements swift and fluid as he aimed for the figurine. When he released the arrow, two words left his lips.

“Left eye.”

Two seconds later, Kai’s arrow cleanly pierced the figurine’s left eye.

Kai turned to Ven with a satisfied smirk. The child gaped at Kai in return, clearly starstruck. Slowly, she looked from the arrow to Kai and back again, eyes wide with disbelief.

“I take it you’re interested in my offer?” Kai said smugly.

Ven nodded quickly enough to give herself whiplash. Kai laughed.

“All right, all right. We’ll start simple.”

The bow in Kai’s hand shrank to match Ven’s size as he knelt just behind her left shoulder, then encircled her with his arms so he was holding the bow in front of her. While Kai used one hand to guide Ven’s left hand onto the grip, he materialized an arrow of green light in Ven’s other hand. Ven looked on in wonder as Kai gently closed her fist around the nock of the arrow and wrapped her thumb around the bowstring at just the right height—and then the two dissolved into sparks, leaving a golden marble in their wake.

Huh. Didn’t know you could use a bow, old man, Morgan remarked, kneeling next to the marble. I thought you were swords only.

I was required to learn archery as a child, Kai replied. I’m not quite as good anymore, though.

Makes sense. Morgan turned towards Lian and Juli. We ready?

Lian gave Morgan a thumbs up. After a moment of hesitation, Juli nodded, too. All of the marbles up until now had been horrid and depressing, but in the wake of all of these happy moments… maybe this one would be happy, too.

~.~

Ven let out a shaky breath as he approached the stage. His hands were trembling around the silver bowl he was holding, and the ceremonial mantle felt heavy and hot on his shoulders, and when he remembered how many people were crowded into the room for the sole purpose of watching him, his knees felt weak.

But Ven wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t.

His features settled into a determined frown. It was hard to ignore the audience—especially when he could feel all of their emotions pressing in on him, suffocating him, strangling him—but Ven kept his eyes on the altar. She wasn’t used to the whole tertiary power thing just yet, but she repeated the advice Kai had given her over and over in her head as she walked.

One foot forward. Then the other. One step. Then the next.

Somehow, Ven stepped onto the stage without tripping over his long ceremonial robes. They had theoretically been stitched just for him, but it still felt like they were meant for someone taller, older, more mature—someone like Kai, or Minnie, or Jinal.

Ven wasn’t ready to become an official prophet of the temple. He wasn’t.

Jinal smiled kindly at Ven from her place at the altar, and Ven anchored on that smile as he set the bowl down at her feet, then knelt in prayer to the Karai idol. The rest of the ceremony after that was a blur of people telling Ven to sprinkle water here or shower this statue with rice or draw this symbol with this powder here. It was all stuff Ven had practiced before, and the routine movements made it easier for Ven to ignore the crowd at his back.

Until the end.

As Jinal draped a garland around Ven’s neck and crowned him with a circlet, initiating him into his position, the crowd cheered, snapping Ven back to reality. The ceremony was almost over—but this last task was the one Ven was most nervous about. He conjured a bow and arrow of golden light in his trembling hands and scoped out his target: a clear silver bell, maybe 100 feet away.

And then something else caught his eye.

Minnie and Kai had special chairs near the back of the room, kind of like fancy thrones, and though they were far away, Ven could clearly see a brilliant pink bonfire, blazing with enthusiasm, sitting across from a much calmer green flame. Their emotions, too, settled in Ven’s heart uninvited, and… they were proud. Proud of Ven. So proud that it was almost painful.

Ven nocked their arrow, and it was almost like Kai’s hands were there, guiding them through the motions. It was so easy, now, to line up the shot, and when Ven let their arrow fly free, they looked to Jinal, and Minerva, and Kai, determined to justify their pride.

Seconds later, the toll of a bell rang through the air, clear as day, and Ven felt a burst of joy from all three of them, each more intense than her own happiness—and it made Ven feel warm and fuzzy inside, knowing how much they loved her.

Ven understood, now, what family felt like.

~.~

As the vision came to an end, Ven’s warmth faded away, leaving a dull ache behind. Being at the center of such intense feelings of love was a bittersweet experience for Juli, because it was warm and comforting—but it also made Juli long for the only person who had ever made them feel that way. Juli’s mom had been dead for five years now, but that didn’t make her absence hurt any less.

“Ven… really loves them,” Lian said softly, holding a hand to their heart. “He loves you a lot, Kai.”

I… knew that already. Kai’s voice was tight with grief. Ven is not good at keeping secrets.

To fill you in—we saw Ven’s initiation ceremony, Juli remarked, answering the question Kai had been too polite to ask. He really wanted to make y’all proud.

I see. Kai huffed out a laugh. I wouldn’t necessarily state that in the past tense.

Juli was about to needle Kai further, but they were cut off by the appearance of a pair of ghostly red apparitions—and that was a new color. The two were sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing each other.

One was clearly Kai—and though he had not physically aged, his maturity was clear in his straighter posture and confident gaze. Some of his hair was still pulled up in a topknot, like before, but the rest cascaded down his back, falling past his shoulder blades.

Across from Kai sat a much younger Mateen, maybe 12 or 13 years old if Juli had to guess. He was clothed in the same style of robes as Kai, though his sleeves were slightly too big. His eyes were squeezed shut, brow creased in a mix of frustration and concentration as he struggled to maintain a halo of light around his head. Seconds later, the halo flickered out, and Mateen collapsed forward with a groan.

“That was excellent! You’re almost there,” Kai said warmly.

“Almost isn’t good enough,” Mateen snapped, crossing his arms. “I need to get into the mindscape now so the temple elders stop harassing my parents.”

“Mateen, I told you—Jinal is already taking care of that.” Kai’s voice was gentle, but his eyes glittered with firm resolve. “We won’t let them hurt your parents.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Mateen pressed, eyes narrowed. “You’re a part of the temple. You work with those guys!”

“It’s… more complicated than that,” Kai said carefully. “The branches of the temple all have different practices, and frankly, the chain of command is rather convoluted, but the four of us care very little for all of that.”

“Yet you’re still involved,” Mateen snarked. “How strange.”

Kai’s calm demeanor was unflinching even in the face of Mateen’s hostile glare.

“Let’s try again,” Kai said coolly. “Close your eyes.”

With an exasperated groan, Mateen complied. Given the translucent nature of the apparitions, all of Mateen’s aura stuff just looked like red on red—very difficult to see, in other words. Still, Juli could faintly make out flames lapping at Mateen’s shoulders.

“Good,” Kai said calmly. “Now focus on where you want to go. Picture this place in your mind’s eye and focus on that desire with every bit of your willpower.”

Mateen gritted his teeth. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face.

And then, without warning, he vanished.

Kai rose to his feet with a frown, surveying the room for any sign of Mateen. When a quick search didn’t yield any results, Kai closed his eyes, his fingertips ablaze with green. For a second Kai was silent, unmoving—and then he burst into laughter.

Juli followed Kai’s gaze towards the ceiling—and sure enough, Mateen had somehow stranded himself on a windowsill several hundred feet in the air.

“It’s not funny!” Mateen yelled.

“Sorry, sorry—give me one second!” Kai called back, still laughing. He rocketed into the air, propelled upwards by a burst of wind, then used air currents to scoop Mateen into his arms with startling efficiency. And Mateen definitely tried to look put off by the whole thing, but he couldn’t hide the awe on his face as the two of them faded away.

“Well,” Morgan grumbled. “Looks like Mateen is our next guide—which is great, since none of us have his fucking bracelet.”

“Guess we’ll just have to trust him,” Juli said with a shrug. “In the meantime, heading back downstairs is probably a good start.”

An uneasy silence settled over the trio as they made their way down the stairs. Juli figured it had something to do with the one memory Lian and Morgan had seen from Mateen’s point of view: Kai and Ven’s murder. And, well, Juli understood why that could make someone uncomfortable, but it was hard to reconcile that with the guy who fought alongside them in the mafia tournament.

About five steps away from the ground floor landing, the trio was greeted by another set of apparitions, this time in hot pink. Kai and Minerva were sitting on the stairs, and based on Kai’s appearance, Juli figured this bit happened around the same time as the Mateen teleportation fiasco.

“Sooo, how’s the crush on Jinal going?” Minerva sang. She elbowed Kai to get his attention, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Please stop asking me,” came the snappy reply. “I’ve already told you I’m not going to tell her.”

“Why? Because she’s older than you?” Minerva prodded. “You’re, like, older than a hundred, dude. That shit doesn’t matter anymore.”

“You know that’s not the issue,” Kai said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, then is it the fact that she can beat you in a sword fight with her eyes closed?” Minerva teased, leaning closer. “Or maybe it’s the fact that when this whole crush thing started, you were absolute shit at keeping your thoughts out of the mindscape, so you’re worried she knows how you feel.”

“Minerva, please.” Kai pushed Minerva’s face away with an exasperated sigh. “Even if she didn’t know from reading my mind, I doubt you’ve kept my secret.”

“What? Me?” Minerva leaned away with a dramatic gasp. “I’m offended that you think I’d be anything but the best wingman in existence!”

“Great,” Kai said thinly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Then that means you already have a perfect understanding of how I feel—so you know that I’m not going to bother Jinal with this.”

“Kai. You idiot,” Minerva said emphatically. “I get that it feels weird to trash all of the traditions you grew up with, but—you’re not bound to your kingdom. You don’t gotta marry for political reasons. You can make your own damn choices.”

“I’m making my own choice right now,” Kai said stiffly. “I’m not telling Jinal.”

“Oh my god. Fine. Fine!” Minerva threw her hands up in the air in defeat. “But, you should know—Ven let me in on a little secret about Jinal’s feelings.”

Minerva leaned in, a devilish smile on her face as she whispered something in Kai’s ear—and it was hard to tell through the translucent pink, but it looked like Kai’s face turned bright red as the pair faded away.

Wow, I sure am glad Minerva showed us that, Morgan crowed, a devilish grin on their face.

So true, Juli agreed, nodding sagely. Lian made Kai sound like Mister Smooth, but after that, the truth is clear.

Now, now, be nice, Lian scolded, wagging a finger at Juli. It’s like Kai said—we’re walking through his awkward teenager phase.

I dunno, Lian, Joel said solemnly. That was pretty bad, even for a teenager phase. Source: I am a teenager.

Juli had been doing pretty well at holding back their laughter so far, but something about that comment broke Lian, and once Lian started giggling, Juli didn’t stand a chance. And just like that, all three of them were laughing hard enough to draw tears.

I’m going to shred Minerva’s entire closet to pieces, Kai said pleasantly. And I am going to film the entire process.

Please don’t, Haku said flatly. She will simply force me to replace every single outfit for her.

It had not occurred to Juli that Haku was also watching, but something about Haku chiming in for that single highly important statement just made Juli laugh even harder. They were practically wheezing by the time they finally recovered.

“Okay,” Morgan gasped. “We need to—we need to keep going.”

“Right, right,” Juli said, their tone still infused with hysteria. “Let’s take a look around.”

The main hall looked a little different now. The stone had an aged quality to it, and the walls and floors had more dents and dings in them. The statue of Karai now bore a red flower bracelet on one arm. And most obviously, though ghosts continued to drift around the room, living through moments long gone, all hints of yellow had been replaced with red.

“Oh! I just realized something,” Lian said brightly. “Picking up Ven’s soul fragment got rid of the yellow ghosts, which means all of these colors connect to other soul fragments in the area. And since we’re here for four soul fragments, the other three must be Jinal, Minerva, and Mateen.”

“Makes sense,” Morgan agreed, leading the way into the main hall. “I wonder if—”

Morgan cut off abruptly as a red apparition of Kai stumbled past, carrying a half-asleep teenage Mateen on his back and a fatally injured Ven in his arms—which totally shouldn’t have worked, but Kai was using straps of soul energy to bind Mateen’s feet to his hips. Mateen looked unharmed, more or less, but Kai had a deep gash running from his left hip to ankle, his hair was matted with blood, there was a bloody tear in one of his sleeves, and a deep scratch mark sealed his left eye shut.

“Oh my god.” A ghostly red Minerva rushed forward to take Ven from Kai’s arms. “Are you three—”

“Fine,” Kai said wearily. “Tired, but fine. Mateen kept us safe—didn’t you, Mateen?”

Kai nudged Mateen’s leg with his elbow, hoping to get a response, but Mateen simply mumbled something incoherent as he buried his head deeper into Kai’s shoulder. Kai shifted in an attempt to make Mateen more comfortable.

“He… had his second awakening?” Minerva asked. “I can sense the curse, but… he’s not bleeding.”

“Mateen never got hit,” Kai confirmed, his smile haggard. “I didn’t know it was possible, but—his curse fully awakened to protect Ven from a second fatal injury.”

“Oh,” Minerva said softly. She cradled Ven closer to her chest. “That makes Mateen the first one to become immortal without getting stabbed in the process, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Kai glanced at Mateen, who was now fully asleep on his back. “To awaken to the curse without a personal near-death experience… Mateen must care about Ven a lot.”

As Kai and Minerva walked away, still talking to each other, they faded into thin air, leaving Juli with far more questions than answers. Their confusion must have been obvious, because Kai chimed in before anyone even asked.

Yaran’s curse awakens in stages, Kai explained. The first awakening occurs in response to any strong emotional stimulus, and it grants the user everything except for future sight, immortality, and soul splinter privileges.

Oh, so all the stuff that doesn’t flat out suck, Morgan said nonchalantly.

That is one way to put it, Kai replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. The second awakening fills in the gaps. For most, this step occurs in response to a fatal injury.

Like… a stab wound… Lian said weakly. Oh, god…

It isn’t… horrible, Kai said slowly. But very few have avoided that fate. Mateen is one of three who awakened to try and save a loved one instead.

I wouldn’t have guessed that from looking at him, Morgan remarked. He doesn’t seem like the sappy type.

Kai hummed in disagreement.

Across the room, teenage Mateen and Ven worked together to climb into a nook in the ceiling that was most definitely off limits—and Juli could tell, because seconds later, a very frustrated Kai used bursts of wind to chase them out. A few feet away, a slightly older Mateen used his power to make Minerva’s hair grow for the first time in centuries, and though it took him more than three tries to get it right, Minerva swept him up into a hug by the end.

Further away, Ven tried to convince Mateen to grow them a second set of arms.

And in the opposite corner, Mateen—now taller than Minerva—dangled a jar out of Ven’s reach. Every time Ven got close, Mateen tossed the jar to Minerva, and then she tossed it back to him before Ven could reach her, and so the game continued. Across from them, Mateen and Kai were locked in a friendly duel—and though Mateen didn’t win a single round, the two were clearly having a good time.

In any other context, it would have been heartwarming to see such camaraderie, but knowing how this story ended just twisted everything into a snarl of dramatic irony. It was painful to think about what drove this family apart.

As if on cue, a trio of apparitions materialized before the group, all in different colors. The pink one was Minerva, now with her newly-lengthened hair. Mateen stood next to her, a vibrant crimson. He was dressed in the same simple robes everyone around here wore, but he’d long since grown into them. Though he looked to be in his late teens to early twenties, there was a certain wisdom in his eyes—the kind only gained from age.

The third person, colored a pale lilac, led Mateen by the hand as she skipped through the hall. She was a young woman with thin, straight hair that just brushed the tops of her shoulders, and Juli didn’t really recognize her, but the broad nose and rounded cheeks seemed… familiar, somehow.

“Ooooo, where are you two going?” Minerva cooed, poking Mateen in the cheek.

“Minerva,” Mateen said thinly. “Skye is my apprentice. I hardly think it abnormal for the two of us to be going somewhere.”

Juli inhaled sharply. He recognized Skye now, and he remembered where he’d seen her before, too. It had been in the mafia tournament, right after Morgan had torched Joshua’s wings. Mateen had tried to intimidate the other team into a surrender, and then the shapeshifter had morphed into this. Into Skye.

Juli suddenly understood why Mateen had lost it shortly thereafter.

“Not what I asked,” Minerva said pleasantly, poking Mateen more insistently this time.

“Aw, ignore him, Miss Minerva,” Skye said apologetically. “He’s just being a bit pouty today.”

“Is he now?” A devilish grin spread across Minerva’s face, and this time, she addressed him in a baby voice. “Are you being a little pouty face Mateen? Are you?”

“I’m going to make you go bald,” Mateen said flatly, shoving Minerva away. Minerva backed away in a fit of raucous laughter, and Mateen took the opportunity to storm away, dragging Skye behind him.

“Have fun!” Minerva called, making obnoxiously loud kissing noises.

“We will!” Skye said cheerfully. “Not that kind of fun, but—we will!”

There was a flash of light above the Karai statue as a garland of pale lilacs settled around her other wrist.

Kai, Lian said quietly. Were Mateen and Skye…

Partners? Kai said bleakly. Yes. In a queerplatonic sense.

Oh.

Lian’s voice was heavy with despair—and really, it felt like the air itself carried that same weight. The sepia tint had leached from the atmosphere, staining the walls a dull gray. The crowd of ghosts had thinned out, too, leaving only three or four scattered clusters behind—and these spirits lived in somber glances and hushed whispers.

The only bright spot in the grand hall was Skye’s laughter as she and Mateen drifted towards the northwest corridor.

Why’s she purple? Juli asked, gesturing towards the pair.

I… don’t know, Kai admitted. Perhaps because Mateen still carries what is left of Skye’s soul.

Juli swallowed. That was certainly a pleasant thought—a reminder of what was to come.

As Mateen passed by the pillars at the northwest corridor’s mouth, he looked over his shoulder, beckoning the trio to follow. Morgan stalked off without hesitation. Juli and Lian exchanged apprehensive looks—and then the two reluctantly followed.

The corridor was dark, lit only by the faint glow from Mateen and Skye up ahead—and naturally, the darkness was alive with voices, because why wouldn’t it be? As they walked down the hallway, footsteps echoing on cold marble, snippets of conversation floated past.

“When was the last time Mateen joined us for lunch?” Jinal asked.

“Seems like too long ago,” Ven complained. "I miss him.”

“You're going to give yourself a nosebleed if you hang upside down like that,” Minerva warned.

“Nuh uh,” Ven shot back. “Immortals don't get nosebleeds.”

“Oh, I see. Let's test that theory then, shall we?” Minerva challenged.

“You owe me an ice cream if I'm right!” Ven proposed.

“Kai owes you a ice cream if you're right,” Minerva corrected.

“I don't see why I'm being dragged into this, but fine,” Kai sighed. “As long as you come with me to harvest the camphor.”

“About Mateen,” Jinal repeated, “When was the last time anyone saw him? I know he locked himself in one of the training rooms last week, but it was empty when I checked.”

“He's in the meditation room on the third basement level,” Ven said solemnly, their voice now devoid of cheer. “I went yesterday to get a read on next week, and Mateen didn't even react to my presence, so I took a look, and his flames in the mindscape—they were almost gray around the edges.”

The conversation faded into worried silence. In the distance, Skye flickered out, leaving Mateen alone—and with that, the darkness seemed to grow even more oppressive.

“Oh, Mateen—there you are!” Jinal said warmly. “Here, sit down.”

“Mhm.” Mateen mumbled. “Thanks.”

A beat.

“What, can't leave the mindscape for a few minutes to talk to your pals?” Minerva teased. Mateen’s exasperated sigh hang in the air. The red glow ahead of them dimmed ever so slightly.

“Okay, I’m out. Happy?” Mateen snapped.

“Absolutely delighted,” Minerva said pleasantly. “So glad you deigned to join us.”

“An apple is all you're eating?” Kai asked, voice laced with disapproval. “Have you even eaten anything else this week?”

“No,” Mateen muttered. “Not hungry.”

“Mateen, that's not healthy,” Jinal admonished. “You can take some of my lunch if you want. Here—”

“Don’t want it,” Mateen said dismissively.

“That’s not—” Ven sighed. “Something’s bothering you.”

“It’s nothing,” Mateen mumbled.

A brief pause—as if gazes of disbelief were being exchanged over Mateen’s head—and then Jinal voiced the question no one wanted to ask.

“Is it Skye?” Jinal said quietly.

“What if it is?” Mateen snapped. “I know you’ve chosen to give up on her, but I-I won’t! I can’t just leave her to die!”

“Mateen…” Jinal trailed off.

Another uncomfortable silence, as if all of the words to be had on this particular topic had already been spoken multiple times before. It felt like the tense atmosphere was pressing on Juli’s chest, squeezing the air out of their lungs, and still the hallway wasn’t at its end.

Eventually, Minerva broke the silence.

“Ven, your nose is bleeding,” she said bluntly.

“Darn!” Ven cried. “I thought I’d make it longer that time.”

"Does this mean you owe me an ice cream now?" Kai said slyly.

"Nope! Doesn't work both ways,” Ven said sweetly. “Mateen, I’m gonna go get you some water, okay? And also some real food. You need to eat.”

The red apparition of Mateen flickered out, and once Juli caught up, he could see why—this was the end of the hallway. The wall ahead held a single wooden door with a thick bronze ring for a handle. Light seeped through the crack between the door and the ground.

“This is not going to be fun,” Morgan muttered, reaching for the door handle. As soon as their fingers brushed against the metal, a new conversation filled the room—an argument between Jinal and Mateen, likely held on either side of this very door.

“Mateen—”

“Go away.”

“You need to eat.”

“Go away.”

“I know you’re upset but—”

“Upset? You think I’m just upset? You let her die!”

“You know as well as I do that there were no timelines where she survived.”

“None that we could see—but we could’ve made a new one!”

“Mateen… I don’t think that’s possible.”

“How would you know? You didn’t even try!”

“Mateen—”

“Just go away, Jinal! You’re the last person I want to hear right now!”

The door swung open, revealing what looked like a bedroom, though it was only possible to tell because of the memories dancing along the walls, adding light and color to what was now lifeless stone. Through the lens of the past, Juli could see where the bed had been, where a shelf for manuscripts had been carved, where a box of clothes had been kept—and in the center of the room lay a single red marble.

Juli gulped. Given what he had just heard, combined with what he knew about Kai and Ven’s death, he had a feeling this memory was not going to be pleasant.

Any warnings, Kai? Lian said miserably.

Nothing concrete, Kai said quietly. But things have been presented chronologically up to now, so you are likely about to see Mateen’s descent into madness, plus or minus the part where he abducted Ven and myself.

That’s all you’ve got? Morgan grumbled. That’s kind of vague.

I’m not sure why you expect me to know more, Kai said crossly. If I had seen Mateen snap in real time, I would have stopped it, don’t you think?

Oh. Juli swallowed. Well. Let’s get this over with, I guess.

With one last look at Morgan and Lian, Juli grabbed the marble.

~.~

Seven days.

It had been seven days since Skye’s death. It shouldn’t have hurt this much, really—it hadn’t taken anyone by surprise, after all. Mateen had known for over a year that Skye would die this way, and he had watched the scene in his mind’s eye many times while searching for a way to stop it. Even Skye had known ahead of time what was coming.

That didn’t make it hurt any less—and it didn’t change the fact that Skye was gone.

Skye was gone, and all of Mateen’s so-called “divine powers” hadn’t been enough to save her, and he would bear that failure for all eternity—or at least until the loss eroded away his soul, bit by bit, leaving behind a cold, empty husk.

And still he would not be dead.

The others had tried to comfort him, of course, but only Kai really understood what it was like to watch a loved one die. None of the others had ever loved a mortal—platonically or romantically—so they could not truly grasp the pain of being permanent in a world where life was meant to be fleeting.

Numb—that was the word for it. Mateen was numb. So numb, in fact, that when a cloud of shadow seeped into Mateen’s room, infiltrating a space specifically built to keep such things out, Mateen didn’t even blink.

“What do you want?”

Mateen’s voice was flat, impatient, devoid of any bite, and maybe that wasn’t the right way to speak to the dark god who had been trying to kill him for over a century, but Mateen was too tired to care. In response to Mateen’s terse question, Yaran’s nebulous form sprouted a pair of red eyes and a shark-toothed smile.

“I am simply here to offer my condolences,” Yaran said smoothly. “And, perhaps, to offer you an alternate way of looking at the world.”

“Fuck off,” Mateen said tiredly, turning away.

“Oh, but that’s no fun,” Yaran sulked. The darkness curled in a lazy spiral around Mateen’s shoulders, like a snake inspecting its prey.

“I don’t know how you got in here,” Mateen said thinly. “But if you don’t leave, I’m going to tell Kai.”

“Kai? And what did Kai ever do for you?” Yaran pressed. “Tell me. Was he even there to help you save Skye? Did any of them help you?”

Mateen bristled. Anger boiled beneath the surface, rushing in his ears, roaring in his chest, and he had spent the better part of the week trying desperately to keep those feelings down, because if he acknowledged them, that would allow—

Please, Mateen’s soul splinter scoffed. You aren’t fooling anyone, you know.

No one asked you, Mateen said hotly. Stay down.

“Oh, that’s no good.” Yaran’s tone was a mix of condescension and false concern. “You’re shutting off the parts of you that still know how to feel. Who is that helping, hm? Kai? Ven? Or perhaps you’re just doing what Jinal taught you to do?”

“Get out!” Mateen snapped. Red and black flames sprang to his fingertips unbidden, and it took Mateen far too much effort to extinguish them.

Do you really want him to leave? Mateen’s soul splinter crooned. Are you sure?

Stop acting like you don’t know the answer, Mateen hissed.

Mateen’s soul splinter snickered as his fingers lit up once more, fueled by the anger-hate-grief-frustration-devastation coursing through his veins. Mateen tried to swallow the jumble of negative emotions—as he always did—but for the first time in decades, his soul splinter pushed back.

“I understand now,” Yaran hummed, continuing to weave slow circles around Mateen. “You may deny it all you’d like, but the truth is this: you resent them.”

Mateen stiffened—and in that split second of weakness, his soul splinter lunged for control.

Pain. Unbearable pain, like a ten ton weight on his chest, crushing every last ounce of life from his body—and Mateen recognized this as the red-hot agony of being forced from one’s own body.

“Yes, you resent the ones who betrayed you,” Yaran continued, voice dripping with pity. “You cannot stand how convinced they are of Karai’s divine power—how they so easily resigned themselves to artificial limitations.”

Mateen’s breaths came in strained wheezes as he hunched over, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Stopping his soul splinter at this point would be like trying to trap a beast in a crumbling cage. His soul splinter was a creature of raw emotion, out for blood. And Mateen was trying to repress that urge on principle, but he… also wanted blood.

“Ahhh, you understand now,” Yaran said slyly. “I am simply telling the truth. You are so terribly tired of this prison you have built, sealed by futures you cannot change.”

“Get to the point,” Mateen choked out. His voice held a faint undertone, and the shroud of flames around him was slowly turning black.

“Fine, fine,” Yaran let out an exaggerated sigh. “I am here to offer you an alternative to this mess of predetermination.”

“An alternative?”

Two voices spilled from Mateen’s lips in perfect unison, equally intrigued by Yaran’s offer. Yaran’s smile widened.

“You wanted to create your own timelines, yes?” The god floated closer, until he was whispering directly in Mateen’s ear. “My magic was built to undo Karai’s web. Perhaps I can help you—for a price.”

Mateen remained silent, unmoving—but not inert. Darkness eclipsed any last traces of red in his fiery shroud. Tension drained from his shoulders, and as he straightened his spine, the creases in his brow smoothed into an eerie tranquility.

When he opened his eyes, he briefly caught his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were… wrong, now. The pupils were a little red, and shadows swirled across the irises like ink droplets blossoming into water. Within the week, they would be fully black.

Mateen(?) turned to Yaran with a calm smile and a simple command.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Of course,” Yaran replied, his voice silky smooth. “Here is how you can prove yourself worthy of my power.”

As Yaran explained the details of Ven and Kai’s execution, Mateen’s desire to confront his soul splinter waned, because he truly couldn’t deny his desire for the kind of power Yaran promised—the power to prevent something like Skye’s death.

And so, when Mateen’s soul splinter piloted his body towards Ven’s chambers, Mateen did not resist in the slightest.

~.~

It took Juli about thirty seconds too long to remember how to breathe again.

Mateen’s all-consuming grief clawed open long-forgotten scars in Juli’s heart. When they closed their eyes, they could feel their mom’s pulse peter off beneath their fingers, and for a second, they were held captive once more by months-turned-years of watching their mom shrivel up before their eyes, bit by bit.

Ovarian cancer. She had died of ovarian cancer, a little more than a year after being diagnosed, and maybe she would have lasted longer, but they couldn’t afford the treatments. It was just Juli and his mom against the world, and no one in their right mind would hire fifteen-year-old Juli at a wage high enough to pay for something like that.

Not legally, at least.

The mafia money wasn’t enough, in the end—or rather, it was too late. By the time Juli’s mom was able to start chemo, the damage was too great. And that was that.

So Juli understood. He knew all too well what it was like to watch someone die from something preventable—and that was why Mateen’s decision at the end thoroughly baffled them. Mateen had just… given up. Given in. And maybe it didn’t count as possession if you were being bodysnatched by your own grief, but Juli could never fathom doing such a thing. They had fought too damn hard for the right to exist.

Hey, Kai, Juli said with a frown. Do all of y’all share a brain space with a shadow parasite?

Yes, but it isn’t bad once you get used to it, Kai said dryly. You just… can’t let your guard down.

Not bad? Really? Lian huffed. You said the same thing about being stabbed, so I no longer consider your opinion valid.

Okay, okay—maybe it is that bad sometimes, Kai conceded. But a soul splinter isn’t a parasite. It just magnifies things you’re already feeling, giving rise to unfettered negative emotions. Losing to that is like… a very magnified loss of self-control.

Does Ilia have one? Morgan’s voice was uncharacteristically small, her eyes shining with… fear? Heartbreak? Juli couldn’t really tell.

Yes, Kai said grimly. It comes with the immortality. The fact that you haven’t seen it yet is… probably a good thing.

A good thing? Morgan said weakly.

Let me be frank, Kai said bluntly. I don’t know a single person who made it more than two months before their soul splinter tried to kill someone.

But it wasn’t all this bad, Juli guessed, gesturing around the room. Right?

As if on cue, a ghostly blue Jinal appeared in the center of the room. She was kneeling next to a stone tablet, squinting at the carvings on its surface. Horror dawned on her face as she read the message aloud.

“Kai and Ven are slated to receive a punishment long overdo. Come find them if you can.”

And then Jinal burst into dust. Behind them, Minerva’s voice echoed down the hall, yelling Ven’s name, and when Juli turned to look, he could make out Minerva’s shadow, rushing from room to room. Every now and then, Jinal could be heard calling for Kai.

“Guess we’re going back to the main hall,” Morgan said tightly.

“Looks like it,” Juli ground out.

With dread roiling in the pit of their stomach, Juli followed Minerva’s shadow back in the direction they’d come from. Snatches of conversation between Jinal and Minerva filled the hallway, carried out in increasingly desperate whispers, and Juli found their own pace quickening in response.

“Can’t find them—”

“Oh, god—”

“This note Mateen left—do you think he was—”

“No, stop, we can’t think that way—”

Juli was gasping for air by the time they burst into the main hall—and then they froze, aghast at how desolate the place looked. Dim gray light filtered down from the ceiling, casting long shadows over the cold white marble. All of the flower garlands adorning the statue of Karai were withered and dead except for the pink and the blue. And the hall was pin drop silent, empty of apparitions.

Juli took a tentative step forward—and then a ghostly blue Jinal appeared across the way, yelling Ven and Kai’s names down the hallway, and a translucent pink Minerva slid down the staircase railing to search the basement and now Jinal was climbing into the ceiling and Minerva was combing through the bookshelves and Jinal was searching the hearth, and all the while the voices continued to grow.

“Can’t find where he took them—”

“Bastard! I can’t believe he would—”

“It’s okay, maybe this is all some mista—”

“You know it’s not!”

As the voices crescendoed into a jumble of overlapping cries, apparitions of Jinal and Minerva continued to flicker in and out of existence like dying flames, portraying increasingly frantic snapshots of the past. As time passed, Jinal’s shoulders crumpled further inward and Minerva’s clenched fists shook even harder and by the end of it all, the two were left standing face to face at the Karai statue’s feet, trying desperately not to cry.

And then the room fell into silence.

“Two places,” Jinal said hoarsely. “We’ve narrowed it down to two places.”

“Then let’s go.” Minerva’s gaze was cold, her jaw set in determination. “I’m going to rip that bastard to shreds.”

“Maybe… try not to do that,” Jinal said quietly, averting her gaze. “He can still be saved.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Minerva snarled. “But if he laid a single finger on either of them—”

“All right. Just—promise me you’ll come back safe,” Jinal murmured. When she turned her gaze to Minerva once more, her eyes were brimming with tears—and that seemed to take Minerva off guard for a split second.

“I-I will,” Minerva promised, her smile shaky at best. “So you better stay safe, too.”

The two faded away in a shower of sparks. A marble fell to the ground with a hollow clink.

Minerva’s death, Kai said tightly. Before anyone asks about what you’ll see.

Juli swallowed. Watching Jinal and Minerva’s desperate spiral had left him steeped in horror and dread—but it must have been much worse for Kai if his clipped speech was anything to go by. Lian seemed to catch on too, because they piped up.

Are you okay, Kai? Lian said quietly. That couldn’t have been easy for you to see.

I’m… fine, Kai said evenly. It just took me off guard.

So that first part was clearly a lie, but the second part probably wasn’t, which meant Minerva and Jinal had never told Kai about this—and that just made Juli feel like a voyeur, because what right did Juli have to personal secrets that even Kai didn’t know?

Hey, Joel, Lian said with a frown. Can you punch Kai in the arm and tell him to stop being a martyr?

Yeah, sure! Joel said brightly. How hard should I punch him?

Well, ya probably don’t wanna knock him down, Juli mused, tapping their chin. So, five outta ten?

Are you sure that won’t knock him down? Morgan said dryly. In his current state, he’d lose to a vacuum cleaner.

The conversation was playful in intent, but there was no heart behind any of it. It was just a distraction—a futile attempt to fill the gaping void left behind now that the memories had drained from these hallowed halls.

Three outta ten, then, Juli amended, nodding sagely. And aim closer to the elbow, will ya? Homeboy’s got a bruise on his shoulder he’s been tryin’ to hide.

No one needs to punch me, Kai muttered. I get th—hey!

Mission accomplished, Joel chirped. I will take my payment in the form of hints on the math homework Kai is about to make me do in retaliation.

The clack of shoes against stone echoed far too loudly as the trio approached the marble. Juli’s feet felt heavier with each step, weighed down by the idea of living through Minerva’s death.

Dude, Juli deadpanned, trying to hide the tremor in their voice. We are literally the three worst people on the team to ask for math help.

Speak for yourself! Morgan said indignantly. There’s no way Peter is better at math than me.

Peter can materialize a textbook, Juli pointed out. And no offense, but the textbook is probably smarter than all of us combined.

Before Morgan could formulate a retort, they reached the altar. For a second, the three of them just stared miserably at the marble. The glass shimmered in two colors—brilliant pink woven into swirls of sky blue—which meant there were two souls within. So Minerva’s death had imprinted deeply on both Jinal and Minerva. And if an immortal could only die by another immortal’s hand…

Juli inhaled sharply as he knelt next to the fused soul fragments. This was going to suck.

Are we… ready? Juli asked, looking to Morgan and Lian for confirmation.

Just do it, Morgan grumbled. We don’t have time to waste.

Morgan’s right, Lian said quietly. Their voice was even, but their eyes shone with fear.

Juli closed their eyes and started a mental countdown. On one, they grabbed the marble.

~.~

“I want you to kill me.”

Minerva did her best to stay firm, but she was too tired to keep the tremor out of her voice. It had been a week since she’d slept—a week since Mateen had betrayed them—and that week had drained every ounce of strength from her body. Ven was dead. Kai was dead. They were gone, and she’d never see them again.

Minerva was only able to stay upright because she was leaning against the wall.

“Look,” Jinal said carefully. “I know yesterday was painful, but are you sure—”

“Jinal,” Minerva said flatly, arms crossed. “You promised that if I ever wanted to die, you would kill me. It’s time to keep your promise.”

“I-I know I said that,” Jinal said shakily. “But Minerva, please, I can’t—”

“Kill me,” Minerva repeated, her voice monotone. “Or I’m going to go to Mateen and ask him to do it.”

Jinal stiffened. She turned slowly to face Minerva, fingers alight with blue and orange—and that was bad, because Jinal never summoned Haku’s flames on purpose. The sheer power radiating from Jinal’s glare made Minerva shudder almost reflexively.

“You think you’re the only one who lost something, do you?” Jinal said quietly, trembling with fury. Her voice rose with every word. “I know Ven was like a child to you, but he was also like a child to me. And Kai—he was—you dare? You’re not the one who had to watch them die!”

Minerva’s gaze hardened. She tried to swallow the rage rising in her chest, tried not to let Jinal’s yelling get to her head, but she couldn’t let go of Jinal’s last remark.

“Maybe I didn’t see it happen,” Minerva said hotly. “But it still fucking hurt, okay? They’re gone, and—and I want out. I’m tired. So keep your damn promise and let me leave!”

“I just lost everything!” Jinal snarled, tears rolling down her face. “And now you’re going to make me destroy the only thing I have left? Do you have any idea how selfish that is?”

This was the first time Minerva had ever seen Jinal cry. Minerva was too angry to care.

“I’m being selfish?” Minerva snapped. She let out a mirthless laugh. “You’re the one who’s refusing to let me go! Haven’t you been keeping me here long enough?”

Jinal recoiled as if she’d been slapped. The flames at her fingertips fizzled out.

“I’m… keeping you here?”

Jinal’s voice was a horrified whisper, barely audible. She was a tableau of shock, frozen stiff except for the tremor in her hands, and the pure guilt in her eyes—she really thought Minerva had stuck around for four centuries out of obligation.

Regret flooded every inch of Minerva’s body.

“Jinal, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes you did.” Jinal’s voice quivered, her words thick with sorrow. Her pained smile held a hint of betrayal. “You meant it, or you wouldn’t have said it.”

“Jinal, wait—”

“You stayed by my side because you pitied me, didn’t you?” Jinal turned away, her voice hollow. “I suppose it was… foolish of me to hope for more.”

Minerva inhaled sharply. She opened her mouth to argue that no, it wasn’t pity, she had chosen to stay because she loved Jinal—but Jinal cut her off.

“That’s that, then. There’s no need for you to suffer on my behalf any longer.”

When Jinal turned to face Minerva, her face was a mask of eerie tranquility. Gone were the shock, the horror, the guilt, the sorrow, the betrayal, the pain. All that remained in those eyes was quiet resolve. The sudden change left a bitter taste in Minerva’s mouth.

“Jinal, just listen—”

“Do you want to die or not?”

Jinal’s voice was cold as steel and sharp as a knife. Minerva wanted to apologize, but she couldn’t speak around the suffocating guilt. Jinal took Minerva’s silence as a sign of affirmation.

“Turn around, Minerva. I’m not going to do this while I can see your face.”

Minerva flinched. Jinal had killed before—and Minerva knew that—but it felt like a slap in the face, knowing that Jinal could only do this if she lumped Minerva in with the rest of her faceless victims.

Why do you hesitate? Minerva’s soul splinter hissed. This was what you wanted, no?

That was true. Minerva had asked for this. And there was no doubt that four centuries of life had worn Minerva down, and the loss of her family had left her empty and broken and tired. Minerva wanted to die.

“I’ll say it one last time.”

Why, then, did it feel so wrong to leave?

“Turn. Around.”

This wasn’t the right way to do this. Both of them were acting under duress. But if Minerva called this off now, she wasn’t sure if she could undo the damage from this argument. And—

She’ll never agree to kill you again, Minerva’s soul splinter finished, mirroring Minerva’s own thoughts. This is your last chance to die.

Minerva turned around.

The easiest way to take a soul was by direct touch. Jinal didn’t trust herself to get close enough for that without losing her composure. Instead, she slipped into the mindscape from afar, and as she laid eyes on the dim pink flame before her, her gaze was cold and clinical. Minerva’s soul radiated a mixture of fatigue and hopelessness—and maybe there was a hint of regret there, too, because as Jinal’s fingers brushed against the flames, she thought she heard a whispered apology.

“You’re not sorry,” Jinal said quietly. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be making me do this.”

And then Jinal pulled.

Fuschia tongues of flame burst from Minerva’s chest and raced up Jinal’s arm, spiraling towards her heart. As pink flames funneled into Jinal’s body with increasing speed, the glow around Minerva’s form grew ever brighter—and then, all at once, fuschia flames faded to nothing.

Minerva’s soulless body crumpled to the ground, eyes rolling back in her skull. Jinal didn’t even try to catch her.

~.~

Hooooly shit, Juli breathed. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

The words fell out of Juli’s mouth like some kind of twisted mantra, and it did nothing to calm him down. He could still feel the depths of Jinal’s despair and Minerva’s regret and the tense argument between them and it was just too much.

Ohhh my god. Lian sank to their knees. Oh god. Oh god. That was bad.

It… really was, Morgan agreed, their voice trembling ever so slightly. In some feat of supernatural stubbornness, they were still standing, but their eyes were wide with horror.

Juli’s hands were shaking in their lap. They felt like they were going to puke. But now that the initial shock had worn off, Juli bit back the urge to let out another string of curse. Kai was listening, and Juli didn’t want him to worry about what they’d seen.

We need to get moving, Morgan said shakily. Before The Necromancer finds us here.

Right! Lian’s voice was high-pitched and hysterical. We should—where are we going?

Back to the pocket dimension, Kai said sternly.

But we’ve only been one place so far! Lian said weakly. And your fr—

I wasn’t asking, Kai said firmly. That was a command. You need a break.

Juli huffed out a laugh. Kai was right, of course. Even though Minerva and Jinal’s residual emotions had mostly faded, Juli still felt rattled from the memory of Mateen’s grief, and it was still hard to breathe around Minerva’s pain, and a glance at Lian and Morgan told Juli that he was not alone there.

To Kai’s credit, he didn’t ask what they’d seen, though he was probably curious—and Juli was grateful, because they sure as hell didn’t want to explain. It still felt weird to pick up pieces of Kai’s loved ones that Kai didn’t know about, but… maybe some things were better left unsaid.

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https://soundcloud.com/sanini-panini/is-this-structure-to-your-liking-prophet

To the left is a track that accompanies the journey through the temple.