(Btw this story isn't meant to be a historically accurate thingy, so y'know, take stuff with a grain of salt, pepper, and maybe some vinaigrette)

"... So basically I want to turn him into a gold statue so he never ever bothers me again," California said.

"Well... I understand that... but I'm pretty sure that's called murder," I say. Suddenly Michigan burst into the room.

"Ok I know you told me not to listen but I did anyway," Michigan said.

"....thanks," California said.

"New York was also talking to Utah earlier and he said that he didn't think you really wanted to break up with him and were just playing coy," Michigan said.

"...cool," California said.

"Not cool," I say.

"'Cool' in a sarcastic way," California said.

"So uh... now what?" I ask. California shrugged.

"New York can believe whatever he wants, but I'm done. Now c'mon, let's go hang out somewhere else," California says.

"Actually... I was gonna check up on these old books to see if Native left any answers on how to save our magic," I say.

"Boooooooring, I'll help," California said.

"I'll help too," Michigan said.

"Actually, tell Utah to call everyone over here... we got some reading to do," I say.

A few minutes later, the library is packed with at least 4o states, and judging by the books floating around, and the slight flashes of colors I see, Delaware and Indiana are here too.

"Utah? Do you think you can call America? If anyone can help us, it's Natives own son," Maryland said.

"Ok, Mich? Do they seem busy? I know New York wanted to talk to America," Utah asked. Michigan nodded and listened in to America and Nuevas conversation. Everyone saw his expression change to slight surprise and confusion. Georgia must've picked up on why, because she showed a similar expression. What's worrying, is that both of them turn and look at me. Michigan took a deep breath.

"I think you should call him now," Michigan said. Utah nodded, and in a few minutes America walked through the door. We explain to him what's going on, and he nods. But instead of offering to help, or asking what we've learned so far, he looks at me with an unreadable expression.

"We need to talk, come with me," America says. Sh*t.

"Actually, Texas has been very helpful searching, and I think-,"

"It's ok Mich, I just need to talk to him," America said. Michigan and Georgia look worried, the rest just look confused. Florida grabs onto my hand and holds it tightly. "Florida, I'm afraid I have to speak to him alone," America said. Florida hissed and hugged my arm. Americas expression softened. "We'll be right back, I promise," America said. Florida hesitantly let go of me, and I follow America out of the library and to the candle room.

"So uh... is everything ok?" I ask. America sighs.

"I'm sorry about New York. I need you to understand, it's not your fault you're not magic. It doesn't make you less than anyone else... New York is just stressed... he has always been stressed since... my brother...," America started.

"...since Confederate tried to steal the candle?" I asked. America nodded.

Years ago, things were relatively peaceful. The mansion thrived, and the twin sons of Native- Union and Confederate- were the head of the house. Union, the older twin, had the powers of light, healing, and strength. Confederate, the younger twin, had the powers of darkness, shadows, and wit. The Younger twin grew jealous of Unions power, and thought he and the other states under-appreciated him. He tried to turn us states against Union, steal the candle, and create a new mansion where he would be idolized and respected. He only got a portion of us, which I am sorry to say included myself. After all, he promised me he would find a way to give me magic. I wasn't aware he would never follow through.

Regardless, his plan didn't work, and after a few years of fighting, America used his powers to banish Confederate to the shadows forever.

"...New York is just worried that this whole 'candle' thing will spark something worse than the civil war... and... he's worried that maybe it has something to do with you," America said.

"How and why?" I ask. America shrugs.

"Not sure... I don't believe it's your fault. New York is just fearful and needed someone to blame... I... I'm just worried that maybe the miracle is just... dying...," America said, tearing up.

"If... if you don't mind me asking... how did it spark in the first place?" I ask. America sighed.

"Long ago... the British found our secret, magical haven... my mother hid me and my brother in a cave with nothing but a candle and promised she'd be back by sunrise.... and... that was the last time we saw her... me and my brother had to flee our home... we ran to the forest and... all we could do was cry... but suddenly, our candle became a magical flame that would never burn out... and it blessed us with our mansion. The many unfortunate souls who stumbled upon our mansion by luck were all blessed with a gift...,"

"...except me...," I say.

"Except you... but Texas, don't ever think you aren't welcome here... that you aren't loved here... and... I-if the miracle really is dying... please don't blame yourself... you did nothing to hurt us... we were already hurt," America said. I tear up, and wrap him in a tight hug. I don't know why the miracle is fading, but one things for certain...

I'm not about to go down without a fight