Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II

Not knowing what else to do, Brennan and his friends drove to get pizza. He still felt a bit wired because of the excitement of everything that had happened and suspected, by his friends’ expressions, that they were in about the same state. At first, they speculated on what their parents were going to do when they received notifications from the school about the suspension. But none of them really expressed any regret over what had happened. Instead, they retold what happened on their end of the prank, while they waited for their food. Soon, they decided that they’d been given a vacation to go along with their victory.

By the time the pizza arrived, Brennan was smiling. The greasy, cheesy scent of pizza filled the air, and he lifted a slice to his mouth.

David had his phone out to show them what he had recorded from class.

Jodie cheered when he saw it and said, “Did you get the expression on Mrs. Darsan’s face when everything went down? I mean, seeing Fowler’s eyes almost explode out of his head was priceless, don’t get me wrong. But there’s something about when that woman glares with murder eyes that gets me all hot and bothered.”

“Mrs. Darsan wasn’t there,” David replied, giving an exaggeratedly empathetic shake of his head. But then he became a little serious when he looked at the video playing on his phone and said, “We had a sub … a weird sub.”

Jodie’s smile diminished just a bit. “It’s a shame that she didn’t get to see all of our hard work.” He leaned over the table to watch the recording upside-down.

Brennan was about to watch when he heard a familiar voice that made him cringe at just the first hello. He turned very slowly to face his cousin, who had somehow found them there in the restaurant, hovering over the table.

Billy Michaels was thin with wiry brown and gray hair. His face had splotches of acne on oily skin. His clothes—a vibrant purple jacket, studded jeans, and untied skater shoes—were all a size too large. He said, “Jodie, homeboy! What’s up?” and extended a fist.

Jodie tossed a handful of dollars onto the table and exited the building in brooding silence. This was expected. Any cordiality or had been cut off the first time Jodie had met Billy. At the time, he’d been driving his mother’s car. Billy, already taxing everyone’s patience with his unceasing stories of alleged sexual conquests, had lit up a joint in the back seat, right as they passed a patrol car. He’d then made matters worse when he mouthed off at the cop and caused all of them to spend a few hours in the county jail. Fortunately, the charges for the rest of them had quickly been dropped and no record created. But the experience had made it impossible for Jodie to be around Billy without creating uncomfortable tension. Billy from then on put an awkward amount of effort into trying to act like they were best friends, only making matters worse.

As for Brennan, he had a bit more pity for his cousin. It was common knowledge that his father had left his mother with a lot of debt and no money. She spent most of her time working and the rest with men from other towns. So, it was understandable why he did awkward things like hover uninvited and obnoxiously compensate for his jagged personality–nobody had taught him better.

Despite this understanding, no matter of pity or understanding could change that Billy was that he was the sort of person who seemed to know, deep down, that something was wrong with him. A slight flare of anger glimmered every time he said something that made others groan or walk away from him. But instead of addressing his own flaws, he became louder and more attention-seeking when others reacted negatively to him.

“Alright then, catch you later, man!” Billy said. He sat down, blinked once, and then pretended to be completely unfazed. “So, were y’all the ones who pulled off the frog thing? How come you didn’t let me help?”

Brennan thought quickly, knowing that confrontation would just result in his cousin getting upset and causing a scene. “You’re a sophomore, Billy, and … we needed to make sure that we were all together in case we had to abort the mission.” This was a lie, of course, but it was less uncomfortable than the truth.

“Oh, gotcha!” Billy replied, seeming to accept this. “Well next time maybe we can make it bigger. I’ve got some guys in my class who would love to help us out with an even bigger prank. We were thinking of downloading porn onto all the teachers’ computers.”

Marshal groaned, snorted in disgust, and left the table. No dramatic backstory or semi-traumatic jail experience was required for him to dislike someone. He did not waste his time with people he hated and made no pretense to. On the plus side, he was above saying things like this aloud.

Billy furrowed his brow.

“Sorry Billy,” said Ted with a dramatic look of thoughtfulness. It was made a little more so by the smudged remnants of his makeup, though he had at least changed into slacks, a gray button-down, and a charcoal-colored sports jacket. “It was sort of a one-time thing … and we wanted our class prank to be a bit more subtle than that. But your Junior year will be here soon.”

“Subtle? Come on, Ted.” Billy let out a snort so loud that the entire restaurant likely heard.

Brennan decided that he had to defuse the situation before it got much worse. He scooted out of the booth and beckoned his cousin to join him. They walked to the soda machine, and he filled his cup. “What are you up to?” he asked, giving the others a chance to get out the door.

“It was a half-day,” Billy replied, absentmindedly pressing at the ice-dispenser, much to the irritation of the employee managing the register. “I saw Marshal’s car and thought that I could hang out with you guys. I mean, I’m already like one of the gang, right?”

“Right.” Brennan didn’t know what else to say if he didn’t want his cousin acting needy and passive-aggressive. If that happened, he would be openly hostile for a week before he pretended that the conversation never happened and went back to trying to be friends with them again. He said, “Well, we were just finishing here. And really don’t have room for you to come with us-”

“Don’t worry. I figured y’all are going to Jodie’s house. I’ll just meet you there after I use the pisser.” Without waiting for a response, Billy went to do so. “I’ll see you there!”

Brennan was about to run and tell the others that they needed to make a quick change in plans when he bumped into and bounced off a large man standing in front of the soda machine. He smiled apologetically, looking up at the tall figure. “My bad, I’m sorry-” His face flushed when he saw who the man was.

Mr. Kale smiled. “Hello again, Brennan.” He didn’t look upset or even as creepy as what the situation merited. Instead, he gave a friendly wave and then walked towards the cashier to make an order.

Brennan swallowed, gave an awkward half-nod, and then rushed out the door to join the others. Once out the door, he shuddered. The substitute had known his name … had he followed them to the pizza joint? No … there weren’t that many pizza places in town. It had to be a coincidence. Then again, Mr. Kale did not look like the type of person to eat pizza. He seemed more the kind to have been at home eating a salad or at a high-end restaurant getting an overpriced steak, teacher’s budget be damned. Hell, he didn’t even seem like the type of person to be a substitute teacher. Also … Brennan found it odd that none of his friends seemed to know anything about this guy–a true rarity in a town so small. Still, maybe he was just weird.

Brennan stepped out the restaurant doors and rejoined his friends who had waited for him outside. He shook off the chills that had him on edge.

“Was that the sub?” Sam asked. He was biting his lower lip, which was already dried and etched with small red cracks in the skin.

“Yeah,” Brennan replied. “And … he knew my name.”

David wrinkled his forehead. “Maybe Fowler told him to look out for you and has a good memory. Or … he’s a serial killer hunting you down. Oh, I know, I bet you he’s the Woodcutter! If that’s the case, I wish you the best of luck and a speedy death.”

Brennan laughed and was about to respond when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He answered the call with the swipe of a shaky finger. “Hello?” On the line, he heard the voice of his older sister.

Megan said, “Do you have a spare key to the house? I forgot mine and got locked out.”

Brennan inwardly scolded himself for not checking the caller ID, and then said, “I don’t; I left the key in my car.” It was a lie, but he really didn’t want to travel a half hour just to let her in the house. Besides, his sister knew that the second-floor window was unlocked. All she had to do was climb the tree in the backyard.

“I know you keep it on your keyring,” Megan replied in a tired tone. “I need you to come and let me into the house. Mom and Dad won’t be back till late, and I really need to grab my computer.”

Brennan spoke sharply. “Use the window.” He shut off his phone and then stuffed it in his pocket. Then he climbed into the back of the car and fastened his seatbelt.

“Your family,” David said with a lighthearted smile and a small shake of his head.

“My family,” Brennan repeated and nodded in agreement.

-O-

Brennan got out of the car once they arrived at their destination. He stretched his back as the noon sun warmed his skin. A breeze carried the smells of freshly cut hay, honeysuckles, and the vague scent of manure. He looked out at the mostly unused pastures and sighed contentedly. Jodie’s family owned several hundred acres of farmland, which they rented to farmers as grazing fields. It was his favorite place to be and not just for the fields, woods, and lake. Jodie’s mom was perhaps the best cook the world had produced and was always more than happy to prepare something when they came over.

“I bet Megan’s pissed,” said Sam with a small smirk. They’d been bantering about the call throughout the short drive.

Brennan shrugged. “Oh, she’ll get over it. That’s how siblings are supposed to behave. Right, David?”

“I don’t-” David began to reply, about to say that he didn’t have any siblings.

“See? David agrees.” Brennan interrupted, with a chuckle. But his laughter was not wholly genuine. Though he was quick to cover it up with humor, he didn’t really enjoy talking about his relationship with his sister. It bothered him … just a little bit. Maybe this was because he still remembered back when they were kids before their parents had both started working so much. After that, Megan became responsible for taking care of him. She had been twelve years old at the time and, to her credit, had really tried. This even meant volunteering to be their scout leader for a time. But her bossy, over-responsible nature had gotten worse over the years. Now their relationship was more like that of a nagging mother and her son, rather than brother and sister.

Ted and Derrick Owens had the kind of relationship that Brennan secretly wished that he had with his own sister. They had neither the compulsive need to keep tabs on one another, and they could get along. They were friends, equals, siblings. But Brennan was Brennan. Megan was Megan. Their parents were absent. That was life. Brennan just had to remind himself that other families had it a lot harder, and just keep on having fun with his friends for as long as he could.

Marshal leaned against his car and rolled his eyes at all of them. “Are we going to actually do something or are you just going to live in my car?”

Jodie, who was still sitting in the passenger’s seat, flashed him a big smile. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot that Megan was a touchy subject for you.”

Brennan lifted an eyebrow, folded his arms, and gave his best shit-eating grin.

“What?” Jodie asked theatrically. “Marshal didn’t tell you? Didn’t he get your … blessing?”

“Man, shut it. And get out of my car,” Marshal said in a mildly annoyed tone. He shook his head and started walking towards the road–towards an old barn that was on the other side.

Brennan considered pushing the matter further but forgot when he heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. He immediately knew who the bike belonged to—his cousin. He wanted to kick himself for forgetting to tell his friends, but all he could do was stay very still and let his frustrations simmer. It was too late, now.

Billy skidded to a dangerous stop in front of the driveway. He parked his motorcycle next to the car, pulled off his helmet, and said, “Hey guys!”

Jodie and Marshal both let their jaws drop a little before they walked silently to the barn. Brennan could already tell they were pissed.

“Jodie still doesn’t like me too much, huh?” Billy smirked and shook his head as if it amused him.

“Just, cool it around him, alright?” Brennan said in a hushed tone so that nobody else could hear. “You can come off as a little … obnoxious.”

“Obnoxious?” Billy asked, his face starting to twitch before he controlled it with a forced smile. “No, man! I’m just joshing around like the rest of you. Besides, if anyone is going to get upset about obnoxiousness, Jodie is the last-”

“Just chill,” Brennan said, giving his cousin a warning look that seemed to shut him up for the time being. He didn’t give his cousin the time to react and instead motioned for the rest of them to cross the road and catch up to the others. It didn’t take long to cross the small street, hop the wooden fence, and walk into the old barn.

Jodie was trying to start his parents’ black pickup truck, probably hoping he could get the engine running before Billy got there. But the pickup was nearly ruined, and it took him several minutes to get any sort of response out of it. The ignition wasn’t the only problem with the small black pickup. The windshield was gone, the passenger door didn’t shut fully, and the tailgate had been partially ripped off so that it hung dangerously from the bed. It had been rolled years before and now only served for riding in the pastures and doing doughnuts over the packed clay.

While Brennan waited for it to start, his eyes caught some movement. He turned to face the woods, which were out on the other side of the pasture, and focused his vision on the shadows cast by a row of pine trees. Everything around him became quiet. Even the sudden roar of the engine was little more than a purr. And the shadows seemed to grow, seemed to draw him in. It made him feel powerless … just like the substitute teacher had. Then, something moved and made him jump.

Brennan relaxed when he realized that it was a baby cow that bumbled out of the woods and then back in, crying for its mother. He laughed and shook his head for having been scared by a calf. He hustled to the barn and climbed into the truck-bed, along with the rest of his friends. He sat down closest to the driver’s side of the cab.

Jodie drove, and David sat in the passenger seat with his phone camera on. The rest of them were in the back, ready to go. It wasn’t long before the engine revved, the truck lurched backward, and they went on their way towards the fields.

Brennan took a deep breath, knowing that he had messed up by forgetting about his cousin. So, he sat for a moment and tried to think of something to say that would alleviate the tension. Then he smiled and poked his head into the cab through the busted back window. “Hey, Jodie … what do you think your mom will be cooking tonight?”

Jodie remained stone-faced for a moment. Then he began to smile just a little bit. “I do not know, but I think it prudent that we find out as soon as possible.”

Brennan laughed. “Agreed, good sir, agreed.”

“Prudent? Good sir?” Ted asked, sticking his head into the cab from behind the passenger seat. He made a mock-expression of being impressed. “Why, with goodly grammaticals like that, I think you two might do alright in the next school production. How do you feel about tights?”

The all groaned.

-O-

Megan Michaels stood on the front porch of her family’s small two-story house, on a quarter acre lot. She watched as other girls from her school entered and exited the different homes. As per the style, most of them had the same shoulder-length, bleach-blond hair that was parted down the middle. They kept looking at her and laughing amongst themselves … not that she cared what wannabe valley girls thought about her.

Megan had mousy brown hair that she kept in a ponytail. She could never manage to get it neat enough, at all symmetrical, or flat without stray hairs standing up. As per the usual, she wore jeans and a tank-top. These came mostly from the supermarket and didn’t quite fit on her awkwardly tall and nearly curveless body. She wondered if this was the topic of mockery today. However, their laughs seemed … different, almost laced with pity. Was it because of Brennan? After only a few seconds of thought, she decided that he was probably the one responsible for the frog video.

Fighting her anger, Megan reminded herself for perhaps the third time that day that she was going to leave this backward town. She would go somewhere where she mattered … unlike the rest of them. Until that time, she just had to remind herself that she didn’t care. And this did seem to help, at least a little. For now, she just dreaded having to climb the tree in her backyard to get to the unlocked second-story window. It was just another chance to be laughed at … and her only option if she wanted to get to her computer to work on her college applications.

Megan sighed quietly, walked into her backyard, and then paused for a moment before stepping onto the low fork of the elm tree. She pulled herself up and then began to climb from one branch to the next, until she reached the one that was a little higher than the lowest part of the roof. Megan used her abdominal strength to pull her legs up around the branch and then began to climb upside-down. While certainly not involved in school athletics, being so involved in her brother’s scout phase had certainly made her feel more competent in physical feats like this. Once upon a time, she’d even enjoyed the climb to get back into the house on the numerous occasions her parents had locked them out.

More sharp giggles came from afar.

Megan immediately regretted it when she looked down to see that several girls and one twelve-year-old neighbor boy were pointing their phones at her. The only thing that kept her from giving them the middle finger was that she didn’t want to provide them with further entertainment at her expense. That … and she didn’t want to fall and risk them posting the video online or, god forbid, on a funny home video show hosted by a lame comedian.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much chance of falling, so long as she didn’t do anything stupid. In addition to regular jogging, she’d been working on her core and upper-body strength three times a week. She’d never been overweight, but the small belly she’d had during freshman year had given her classmates another thing to ridicule. Unlike her hair, she had determined that her physical shape was something she could control.

Megan pulled herself along the branch and eventually lowered herself onto the lower roof. Once there, she opened her bedroom window, climbed in, and walked into the hall bathroom. Her face was hot with embarrassment, and her body was sweating profusely. She ran the water for the shower and waited for it to warm up. When she was finished showering, she stepped out of the shower, dried off, and then went to her room to pick out some fresh clothes. She chose a pair of gym shorts and a tee. She then sat down at her school desk and opened her laptop.

Megan’s browsing history was still up, half-filled applications for the first dozen schools she was applying to. He had applied to as many places as she could, hoping to at least get some decent scholarships at one. She’d also saved a few thousand dollars from working part-time at a library, for the past three years. But that would hardly put a dent in her first semester’s tuition if she went to a decent school.

For the next few hours, Megan filled out one application after another.

-O-

Dufaii rose from that pool of water in Hell. He entered to yellow light, burning within the entrance chamber. Like before, there was a presence that met him in the cave. A being in the shape of an angel stepped from the shadows, wielding a double-edged sword with a flat tip, called a khanda. He was larger and more intimidating than most angels or demons. Muscles rippled where they could be seen beneath his highly ornate armor, which was decorated with the golden images of serpent-like dragons that almost seemed alive. Most odd, however, was the handgun holstered at his other side. His skin was dark like that of humans from the lands where the gods Shiva, Krishna, Lakshmi, and others had once ruled. His wings were an intense gold color that seemed to catch the yellow light, just like his eyes did. On his face was a terrible expression that would have stricken fear into most beings—mortal or otherwise.

“I don’t have time for the theatrics, Abhayananda,” Dufaii looked up at the loyalist and spoke with a passionless tone.

“My apologies, old friend,” Abhayananda replied, his terrible expression instantly vanishing and becoming an empathetic smile. This expression had almost a silliness about it, seeming both purposeful and sincere. He had changed a lot from the child that had barely escape that mountain prison, so many ages ago. A demon in heart, Abhayananda had once tried to free the prisoners of Hell. Of course, Dufaii was one of the few with such knowledge. Had it been more widely known, he would have never been allowed to serve as the guardian to the gate of Hell. Or … rather … the small pool of water that served as the only way out.

“None apologies needed,” Dufaii said, waving a hand. “I simply have a pressing need to speak to the Lightbringer. The Creator’s plan is falling apart, and I am uncertain of how much longer I can protect the human champion.”

“You don’t have to say more,” Abhayananda said, his face becoming grave. “Go.”

Dufaii turned and walked swiftly towards the familiar maze of tunnels. As he navigated the tunnels by memory, he reflected on the true loyalist who had previously guarded the gate. He had been an intolerable high-ranking bureaucrat of the guard. He had inevitably been dissected and his pieces scattered throughout Hell.

Hours of navigating passed.

Once Dufaii had traversed the tunnels, he took flight over the massive cavern to the stone-carved palace of the Lightbriner. He had arrived at the prison-palace unannounced and without having been summoned. This was prohibited, for the safety of all demons. In part, measures had to be taken to make sure that the Lightbringer, still their greatest weapon, remained safe. However, the greater risk was their escape into the other parts of Hell.

Dufaii darkened his form and obscured his aura long before he reached the palace. He landed on the rocks far above the grand, stairway entrance–hanging upside-down like a bat. Once he’d surveyed the situation, he dropped and dealt with the guarding demon warriors via two simultaneous sucker-punches. The attack was brutal, crushing bone and leaving them without consciousness. Yet, it was also a mercy; it would prevent them from being punished for disobedience. Incompetence was not tolerated among demons, but nobody would fault them for falling in battle to the Godkiller.

Dufaii then trudged into the palace, with dust flying from his boots as he ran. He went down the hall, up the steps, and stopped at the secretarial desk.

The secretary was a demon with brown hair and pale skin. She wore a human-styled secretary’s uniform that was somewhat revealing but professional. No doubt a fetishistic indulgence of the newest incarnation of the Lightbringer. Two daggers strapped to the outer parts of each thigh were almost entirely hidden by her skirt. There was no doubt that she was dangerous, more so than the guards. It would be best not to engage her in a fair fight.

“I’m here to see the Lightbringer,” Dufaii said, his voice little more than a low growl.

The demon scowled and curled her lips. She picked up a folder, stood to enter the office, and said with forced politeness, “Mr. Green is quite busy right now. If you would like to request an appointment-”

Dufaii spun around her desk, grabbed her by the neck, and tossed her into the stone wall behind her before she could reach the dagger hidden among her folders. Her skull busted audibly, and she fell unconscious behind her desk. He then forced the white double-door open with a shove, breaking the lock in the process. He thought he saw something small writhe and pop in the dark corner of the room, but decided he had been mistaken when the Lightbringer stood up from a desk at the center.

This incarnation … Mr. Green … lit a candle to illuminate the room. He was alone, wearing a suit and tie. He smiled and folded his arms. “Ah, Dufaii, how nice to see you. It’s been … about fifteen years, right?”

“We have a problem,” Dufaii replied bluntly.

“Ammon,” Mr. Green replied, nodding patiently. “What is he up to this time?”

“You haven’t heard the rumors?”

“Of course,” said Mr. Green. “But rogue rumors are not quite as reliable as news straight from the horse’s mouth, if you’ll pardon the human expression.”

“His followers are becoming more organized,” Dufaii said. “They’ve attacked the Champion and even involved other humans in their attacks. Last week, a demon took a fully corporeal form and attacked her in a public place.”

Mr. Green’s eyebrows lowered ever so slightly, into unmistakable but controlled fury. To leave the dark, to make them public, would ruin everything they had fought so hard for.

It had been another incarnation of the Lightbringer who had created the guiding philosophies for dealing with mortals-fitting neatly into the laws that the Creator had forced upon them through the Balance. They were to effect corruptive change to society without any direct hand in the matter. So, demons had worked hard to do precisely that. Now, it was now exactly where it needed to be: complacent, fat, malleable. To risk that for anything was unacceptable.

“He said nothing of public attacks!” Mr. Green shouted, slamming his fist against the desk. He was angry … that was encouraging. “Has Ammon completely forgotten that he’ll lose if the Champion dies outside the challenge?”

Dufaii shook his head. “Ammon’s memory and his reason both leave him in lapses, more often than they used to. This year has been particularly bad … the problem growing worse with every human follower that the madness binds his soul to.”

Mr. Green had to visibly force himself to breathe. It took him a minute to regain his composure, before he said, “What is your proposed strategy for dealing with this threat?”

“Loose me,” Dufaii replied, placing his palms on the desk and leaning over it so that they were face-to-face. “I think I can end this madness to everyone’s mutual satisfaction … and that Heaven and Hell can reach an agreement on this. Let me keep the Champion safe by any means necessary. Let me kill Ammon in defense of the Balance, of your laws, and of the challenge itself. Demonkind can reunite and focus on getting free from this place. Heaven will no longer have a reason to fear the assassination of the Creator. Even Ammon’s own followers will know that he died because he could no longer control himself.”

Mr. Green rubbed his temples and then folded his arms behind his back. “No, agreeing to this can only push more demons to his side.”

Dufaii shook his head. “As the plague continues to spread among demonkind, Ammon continues to gain more followers by the week. Soon, Exousia will have more enemies than she will know how to deal with, and we’ll have lost even more allies. We could avoid this war altogether. We may lose a few allies at first, but the result will be their shattered faith in Ammon when he dies at my hand, caught in violation of the Challenge.”

Mr. Green thought for a moment. His eyes lit up in a subtle way that sent chills throughout Dufaii. He said, “But … if Ammon kills the girl outside the challenge, he also loses. This would cement his insanity in their minds, destroying his credibility far more than the loss of all this stupidity. We don’t need to find a way to protect the girl … we need her to be taken out before she can be challenged.”

Dufaii’s eyes widened in rage, and he slammed his fists into the desk. “You can’t just use Exousia as bait for-”

“That’s exactly what I’ll do,” Mr. Green said, his stare dark and his expression cold. “Using the girl was the point of all this. Actually training her was a shot in the dark to prevent war, of course. But it was primarily a distraction to bide our time in preparation for dealing with him directly.”

Dufaii’s head began to spin, and he took a step backward. He’d made a mistake coming here. He’d left his apprentice alone and vulnerable to attack … all for nothing.

“Don’t look so crushed,” Mr. Green continued, “By making the Champion more than human, you made her success possible enough to scare the madness within Ammon. I applaud your taking this impossible matter and investing so much to see it through.”

“I prepared her as a warrior, not a sacrifice!” Dufaii roared.

Mr. Green seemed to regard him with a sickening level of … sympathy. “Know that you will forever be regarded as a hero of our kind for it. But … make no mistake that your mind and judgment have been compromised in this matter.”

Dufaii placed a hand on the handle of his sword so tightly that his knuckles became white.

Mr. Green gave a drawn out sigh and said, “I had even a thought of imprisoning here to ensure that the Champion will be killed before the challenge. But … in my mercy, I will give the girl her small chance to win.”

Dufaii gritted his teeth, snorted, and turned to leave.

“Remember that your job is to keep your people safe against all possible threats. So, protect the human if you feel you must. But remember that the stakes of this are far bigger than just one life. From what my messenger tells me, even the girl seems to understand that much. Mr. Green said, but then his voice became soft and distant. “And Dufaii …”

Dufaii, despite his loathing, felt somehow compelled to turn and face him.

However, Mr. Green’s eyes had glazed over like he was hardly there. It was like consciousness had left him entirely while something old and frail took his place. They said, “In spite of your rage, find a way to remember how you once cared about your first apprentice. The madness was not something he chose … it wasn’t something any of us chose.” Then he blinked a few times before Mr. Green returned, looking confused as to what had overtaken him.

“I’ll try, Lightbringer,” Dufaii whispered. He clenched his fists tightly enough to draw a small amount of black blood from his palms where his nails dug in. His emotions twist uncomfortably inside of him as he walked out the door. He again thought he heard a pop and looked back; the only thing there was the door shutting. But as Dufaii moved swiftly through the halls, he could have sworn he heard someone whisper something about grapes.