As the sun rose, the shadows of the bars sunk through the walls. It felt like an hour since they had been thrown in the cell, and he couldn't see any means of escape.

Andor continued to peer into the hall moment after moment to see if the guard would leave, fall asleep, or be distracted by anything. As the sun rose higher and higher, the guard continued to stand in his one spot as still as a statue.

His laid back against the wall, sitting in the same spot where he watched the sunrise. Though, he knew the day wouldn't last much longer because Sonja wouldn't be in her right mind when she woke up.

He felt the knife wrapped in gauze still hidden in his boot. He finally realized why she gave that to him, and why he should have gotten rid of the parasite in her leg sooner. King Ragnar's soldiers easily found her, and if that guard didn't leave he would never be able to save her. The only reason they had Sonja kill him was to save a bullet, and if he touched her leg he would be shot instantly.

The sun started to raise higher between the huge jungle trees that circled the kingdom and all of Mianite. By propping up his head he could clearly see the rays starting to come off of it. The yellows and oranges of pure heat.

He remembered the fire, and when they were stuck in that cold cave. How much Andy was worried that she would have to write him an obituary. How the embers seemed to give off an energy that no one else noticed.

And then the fire sunk into his head deeper, and he thought about the flames and how by just looking at them in a different angle the fire glowed stronger and stranger. He had never known fire to just blow up in front of someone.

He knew he manipulated it in some way - the fire. There was no other explanation for it, but burying this new ability away seemed to be the best option until he saved the town and all his friends, until now. Now he had to save himself.

He grabbed the knife from his boot and held the still wrapped dagger in his hand. The guard wasn't paying attention to him, seeing his figure and assuming he wasn't much of a threat.

He stared at the gauze, seeing the outline of the knife under it and, like the fire, he blankly stared at it. It could be used as a weapon. It could also be used to cut things, like food which is a lot nicer than cutting people. Blades cut lots of things, and because of that they were useful.

Andor's head started to hurt the more he forced himself to stare at this white gauze. He had become more bored staring at the knife than he had waiting for his own death.

He squinted at it now, noticing something strange. As if he had crinkled a page and now he could see the abnormality in it and use it. The pages no longer stood stark white and pressed together. He could rip on the page and tear it apart. He could use it, manipulate it.

Manipulate the atoms and the history in this one little object. There was so much power in just a knife, in just a blade, and in just gauze. Like a Thesaurus, one word could be connected to so many things.

If so much energy could be in gauze, how much could be in humans?

Now Andor's head started to buzz like a bee was flying around in it. A high pitch squeal screamed in his head like tires running quick on pavement. Instead of being a distraction his concentration grew greater with this, and instead of tearing out one little page he could soon grab the whole book and change it however he wanted.

A small crack echoed in the distant. It corrupted the peacefulness of the sunrise. Even more popping sounded between it, and it kinda crackling like old morning breakfasts. All this chaos only formed in seconds, but the little noises screeched in his head.

The guard screamed in agony, and one of the huge jungle trees fell into the dungeon.

Andor held his head against the huge boom that first went through the halls as the tree collapsed into rock. Little pebbles and dust then settled to the ground and the sound reminded Andor of raindrops on a pond.

His head peaked out, and the little rays of sunshine plopped themselves onto there new found places. Some shone on branches of the mysteriously cut down jungle tree. Other shone on the face of a dead guard, mangled to the point of no resemblance. His arms broke into each other and the severed leg five feet away from him just reminded Andor of what he had to do.

He took the dagger out of it hiding place, tucking the gauze into his pocket and stared at Sonja with a grimace.

"I'm so sorry," he spoke, tying her to the bar in case she woke up.

."

"I thought father's little minions traveled the word quiet well, but meanings get lost with time."

She walked into one of her pawns throne rooms. The most arrogant of the bunch, and the most easy to manipulate. When she broke out of the statue with fathers pretty little warriors golden blood dripping off of her, she knew that her time had finally come.

Meetings had been so difficult. She constantly needed to speak through others like they were a telephone. At first she used a fear demon and then a poor, poor guard who sadly lost his head, and what had been the point of all that! The one ally she made didn't heed her warnings and was soon killed!

She decided to choose a partner, a soulmate, someone to be by her side as she took what she rightfully owned. Father had taken away her first one, so she would get another herself. One certain hero seemed to be the strategic choice and she planned a date, but now all her true love saw her as was a monster.

King Ragnar sat on his throne, a smug smile on his face. His words were like nails on a chalkboard to her, and he made her want to smack her head against a wall over and over.

What an idea?

"Well hello Ragnar," she said with a blood red smile. "Aren't you enjoying your freedom?"

King Ragnar nodded his head quickly. "I sent my troops to the edge of the jungle. They'll be to Aura in no time."

Everything was going to plan, she thought, and now Ragnar was useless.

She walked up closer to Ragnar. Her smile piercing through his heart, making it swell. "You've done so well. I'm forever in your gratitude."

She sat beside her subject, and to Ragnar she seemed like his queen.

Furia cleared his throat - her lover standing in the front of the throne. He watched over her with his orange eyes that were fueled with fire. That's why he was her favorite.

"Yes dear?" She asked, although if the answer wasn't perfect it might be the end.

"The heroes are now entering the kingdom, all in plan." Furia stood frozen, keeping a calm facade. He had no idea if the information would sit well.

"Now?!" Her surprise shocked Ragnar. "Well they're early. It's not even sundown. And now -," she let out a gravely sigh. "How much do you think changing it to sunset will make them suspect?"

"They are too wrapped up in their own worlds, darling." This Furia knew to be true, and it's why he hated any creature with a soul and a mind.

Now she was overwhelmed. Her guests had come to early, and she hadn't even prepared. "Nothing is in order," she fussed. "They're all supposed to be dead."

Furia glared at Ragnar, who he personally couldn't wait to see dead. "You always love being creative, doll."

The Darkness stared at him for a second, entranced by the fire that stood in front of her. "Very few people can burn through me like you do."

If Furia wasn't absolutely scared shitless of her he would have blushed.

She waved her hand away to Ragnar who promptly stood up against his own will. His head still together for now. "Go."

He walked to the wall. Furia watched with his eyes burning charcoals as the desolate king stood in front of the wall, and slammed his head against it. He screamed as pieces sprayed off the marble, and Furia found himself smiling again.

She stood up, too preoccupied wondering when she could make day into night again. If her sister would even notice? But of course, she knew in a way, her sister didn't want to notice.

The King screamed, his skull chunking off like a knife against the pit of a peach. Blood smeared on the walls and when his head had finally broken through, it fished out like a dented hose. Skin and bone sprinkled the floor, laying thick against the floor.

The bloody corpse finally shut up, and he collapsed to the ground. His bones folding up over one another, and his lunatic eyes vacant. He had died, and he had plunged into the Nothing he so desperately wished for.

"Is the god here?" She asked, watching the sun brightly shine over everything. It's watchful eye.

Furia could feel his presence. The pure power. The little idiot was so unknowingly dangerous. "He threw a tree through the dungeon, and now he's cutting up his friend's leg."

"He'll be done with that soon," her words chilled him to the bone. He knew her thoughts. "Go entertain him."

He almost decided to not argue, but than he remember what had to happen - what he had planned to avoid. "But he's dangerous."

The Darkness turned. Her anger turned into power, and that power could seep through your skin and make you cold. Make you cold to the bone. Put out the fire that kept him alive.

"You said you wanted to help me." Her teeth gritted. He could start to smell Ragnar's corpse, bloody and moist. "GO!"

And her command was so loud that the baby birds right outside fell out of the nest and smashed to the ground.

As we started to near the kingdom, following Andor's trail, I started to notice similarities. I noticed spots of green in the trees that laid against the blue skies, and the sight made me remember. When I inhaled the musky dirt and salt water that the wind brought inland, I felt at home. I felt the moment I first shot a bow. I felt the moment that I hid Tom's mask from him and he searched for hours, and I felt the time that I had hid said mask in a tree and then fell from said tree and then broke my arm.

My elbow started to tingle the more that salt breeze smacked right into my face and threw my hair everywhere.

"I can't believe he got this fucking far through the jungle." I snapped a twig foreword in front of me, and it hit Jordan in the face.

He snapped the twig off the tree in dehydrated desperation. The humidity only drank up our sweat, and I felt like I was in a sauna surrounded by old naked men.

"He's smart. Stood being overdramatic," Jordan said, but I didn't really care if Andor was fine right now. I was going to throw a fit when I found him.

"I mean, I brought him with me when we searched the village," I started to rant again, and Jordan rolled his eyes. "He saw, this isn't like Ruxomar. Our bad things aren't trapped under a thick layer of pavement. It's all in the open and ready for everyone to get shot."

"Hope, he was a Prince-"

"EXACTLY!" I yelled. Jordan never understood how royalty fended in Mianite. Not his fault, of course. He did arrive late to the Mianite party.

I rubbed my arms. They started to get even more itchy. I couldn't stop thinking about the crack my arm made when I fell off that tree when I was five.

"What do we do when we get to the Invaders?" Jordan asked. He never called them what they were - Ianite Raiders. He only called them Invaders.

I can't say it bothered me when I was calm. He did plenty of strange things that distracted me from his word choice, but now in my situation everything he did made me want to push him in a pool.

"Why do you call them Invaders?" I asked. "This isn't a video game."

Jordan made a face. I couldn't tell if it was at me or the buzzing mosquitoes that were drinking us dry. "I didn't think you knew about video games."

"Dickhead. I'm serious," I said, and he scowled even more at my persisting.

"Cause that's what they are Hope," Jordan stated, and his boots slammed against the soggy ground with his words. "They're stupid fucking Invaders who took something good like justice and Ianite, and they turned it to shit."

I stared at him, and although most of the time I could only think about the ways he tripped over everything and apologized at the worst times, he mostly held wisdom and intelligence.

He knew a lot more than me.....

"No one should be able to do that," He gritted. "No one should be able to take something like that and destroy it. I don't care if they're Dianite, Mianite, or Ianite - Invaders are Invaders."

He sighed deeply, the sea wind hitting our eyes and making them burn. "You know out of all this traveling I've done with you guys, I haven't got tired of much, but there is one repeating moment of history that I wish would just fuck off."

"What's that?" I asked, feeling nine again.

"People taking advantage of our gods because they want power."

I closed my wincing eyes, and then looked out at the landscape. The tears made my vision blurry, but through stain glass eyes I really saw what he had been saying. Though my whole life, I saw destruction. The godless murdered instinct by a religious war, a tyrant king imprisoning his son, and the good in the world slowly being snuffed out because the Invaders were so very, very loud.

"I want to find Andor and Sonja," I said. "I don't want them snuffed out."

"Me neither, kiddo," He answered.

We walked to the Kingdom, the sea making my blurry vision see everything so clearly for the first time since I landed back at home.

After trying to get into the mind of a surgeon for hours, Andor finally decided that he hadn't cut deep enough for there to be serious damage. He wrapped the gauze around Sonja's leg, and hoped that she wouldn't bleed out.

When the tree fell through the roof, even though the shingles crackled around them, Sonja still didn't wake. Her pulse still beat when he checked it, and although she seemed salvageable before he had no idea what would happen now.

He stood up, blood staining his hands and the hilt of the dagger. Crimson dripped to the floor and puddled around her like a flooded basement. Could someone loose this much and still live? Did it even matter?

He dropped that tree from the sky. Who says he couldn't do more.

What's happening?

Whistling echoed down the jail cell, and Andor's heart seemed to stop beating all together. The air became heavier, weighing him down like an anvil as the footsteps edged closer. Something horrible had entered. Something so horrible he grabbed the dagger again without thinking about it.

"Sonja," Andor whispered to the unconscious woman. "I promise I'm not leaving you, okay? I'm coming back with help."

She obviously couldn't hear him.

He grasped for straws, begging that this was Hope or Jordan or any of her friends. Pressed against the one standing wall of the jail he begged for help as the whistling creeped closer.

He turned the corner, and stared face to face with a man made of fire.

"Oh, you look horrible," The gentleman greeted, and his voice seemed warm. "What happened young man?"

Andor became so frightened he couldn't feel his legs.

"Are you bloody mute?" He stepped closer. The man wore a fine pressed suit, but his skin harbored so many bruises. "Did the daft king cut your tongue out?"

Andor tightened his grip on the soggy wood of the knife. His tongue, although still their, now tingled and he couldn't seem to speak as much as he tried. "No."

The man smirked. His hair burned red, and his eyes could destroy forests and only leave char in its wake. "You seem smarter than the rest."

Andor stood still, not able to shake his eyes off of the flame in front of him. Suddenly there was so much power everywhere he turned, and it all wanted to be changed so desperately.

"Haven't you heard of me?" He asked. "I'm quite popular with that rabid bitch you fuck."

"She's going to kill you," he said, and Andor had no idea who he was referring to, but he knew who this man was and he knew he was going to be killed like everyone else. "Your not safe."

Furia opened his mouth a little, tasting all of the air from the beach. Andor's words seemed to make some impact.

"I know," he said, and he licked his teeth with his tongue. "I'm not stupid."

Andor stepped backwards, back to the end of the hall. With another step into air, he realized that he had destroyed that option. Now he had, in front of him, a man in a suit who would definitely kill him.

"Quiet frankly, boy, I rather be destroyed into a million little pieces by her than be killed." Than the mans eyebrows arched, and an evil smile slithered onto his face. "Do you know that there is no heaven, and that the dead wish there was a hell? When people die, I get my hands on them and they burn for eternity. Everyone. Your mother by the way, beautiful. She's my favorite toy."

Andor felt himself slipping. His throat got even more dry and sandy. All the power only stepped closer. "Please, Stop," He said, and although he didn't mean to he made himself flinch.

"Her skin is so soft, and her hair smells like lavender, and every night she screams for death and I love it. I love it because I hear her scream and I think of you, golden boy, and I think of this moment and how intoxicating it is to see you get angry. Your not perfect, are you? Are you, golden boy?"

And now Andor found himself stuck at a corner, overwhelmed with anger and whatever new page he had stupidly crinkled.

"Shut up!" Andor yelled.

And the castle continued to crumble around them as so much power overwhelmed the world. Furia found himself hurled against a wall, and flying through the air he knew what his fate was. His fate was sealed.

The air had gone so quickly that Andor couldn't understand what he had made happen, but Furia had been knocked unconscious against a wall. He still felt only anger, a dry anger that was unfamiliar and unpleasant to him.

He grabbed the dagger and he held it over the crumbled man against the wall. He thought. He thought long and hard about killing that crumbled man for what he had said. Andor knew with every bone in his body the world would be better off with this horrible man dead.

But his hands still hurt holding the dagger, and if he wouldn't be the idiot that couldn't kill Furia who else would balance out the world.

He dropped the dagger onto the crimson ground, and in the howling wind he heard the growling of dogs.