The trees rose around her in endless ranks, their trunks swollen and twisted, their bark the color of clotted blood. Their branches tangled overhead until the sky became little more than a narrow wound between them. Beyond that wound, the heavens sagged beneath a swollen, deathly red atmosphere.

 
Beastial laughter rose above the battlefield, followed by roars that shook loose leaves from the canopy. Somewhere beyond the trees, metal struck stone. Something screamed. Something else answered. The noise rolled through the forest in heavy waves, each impact vibrating through Elaine's ribs.

Then the siege towers began to appear.

 
They did not descend from the sky or rise from the earth in any ordinary sense. One moment, there was only empty ground. The next, a monolithic tower stood there, fully formed, built from black stone and rusted iron, its walls covered in symbols from forgotten eras.

 
A heartbeat later, the tower vanished beneath an explosion of fire and broken stone.

 
Another took its place.

 
Then another.

 
The battlefield rebuilt itself only to be destroyed again, as if the war had become trapped inside an endless nightmare and no one within it could remember how to wake.

 
"Le...on," Elaine whimpered.

 
The word barely escaped her.

 
None of the surrounding chaos truly reached her. The screams, the explosions, the monstrous laughter, the trembling ground, all of it seemed to exist behind a thick pane of glass. Her body continued forward, but her mind had retreated somewhere far more terrible.

 
She was drowning in pain.

 
The child inside her was trying to enter the world far too soon. Every spasm in her abdomen twisted through her like a hooked blade. Her muscles clenched without permission, then released only to seize again seconds later. Her breath came in shallow, ragged pulls, each one scraping her throat raw.

 
But the pain of premature labor was only one part of her torment.

 
Abaddon's command still lived inside her.

 
The Ghost had ordered her to die.

 
That command had entered her body like a patient disease. It moved through her nerves, her blood, her organs, shutting them down one by one. Her heart stumbled between beats. Her lungs resisted each breath. Her limbs grew heavier with every passing second, as if invisible hands were fastening chains around her bones.

 
The command did not kill her quickly.

 
It was more deliberate than that.

 
It was dismantling her.

 
Her body was being convinced that survival was no longer necessary.

 
If she died, the baby would remain trapped inside the suffocating forest. No one would find the child. No one would hear its first cry. It would perish before ever seeing Leon, before ever feeling the warmth of its father's hands.

 
Death rattled its chains somewhere behind her.

 
At first, Elaine mistook the sound for the siege towers collapsing in the distance. Then she realized it was coming from inside her head.

 
Clink.

 
Clink.

Clink.

The darkness gathered at the edges of her thoughts. It seeped from the cracks in her mind like cold smoke, curling around her memories and smothering them. The whispers began so softly that she almost believed they were her own thoughts.

 
Stop.

You have done enough.

The voices were gentle. That frightened her more than screaming would have.

 
They did not threaten her. They comforted her. They spoke with the intimate tenderness of a mother soothing a child back to sleep.

  

You are tired.

You are hurting.

There is no shame in surrendering.

Elaine's vision blurred. The trees leaned toward her, their blood-dark branches bending like crooked fingers...
No. That's just her delirious mind playing tricks.

 
Leon was waiting for her.

 
Elaine's father wanted to see his first grandchild. She could picture him trying to conceal his excitement, pretending to be calm while hovering over the newborn's crib. She could almost hear his voice. She could almost feel the warmth of the home they were supposed to return to.

 
That future was fragile. It was impossibly small. It could be crushed by a single command spoken by a monster.
Elaine held onto it anyway.

 
She would not kneel before Abaddon.

 
She would not make his demand easy.

 
The thought gave her enough strength to resist the impossible...

 
Then her body betrayed her.

 
Elaine came to an abrupt stop, hovering in the air before gently descending, dropping into the blood-red grass as herself again.

 
Rustling nearby grabbed her attention immediately.

 
She turned her head and saw a young man curled beside her in the foliage. He had folded himself into a fetal position, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. His face was buried against his knees. His shoulders shook with each broken sob.

 
"Mom," he wept.

 
Elaine stared at him through her tears.

 
Mason.

 
He was not a stranger. He was closer than that. They had fought beside each other, argued with each other, protected each other. Their relationship had never been simple, but it had possessed the rough, familiar shape of siblings who had survived too much together.

 
"Mason," Elaine whispered.

 
Her voice cracked.

 
She tried to crawl toward him, but another contraction seized her body. Her stomach tightened beneath her hands, hard and violent, and a strangled sound forced its way out of her throat.

 
"Help... Leon."

 
Mason did not move.

 
Elaine clutched her sides and hunched over herself, fighting to draw air into her lungs.

 
"Mason. Please. Help..." The forest swallowed her plea. 

***
Mason was trapped inside a moment that refused to end.

 
His mother's death played behind his closed eyes.

 
Not as a memory, but as an execution.

 
Splat.

 
Again, his mother's body jerked.

 
Scream.

 
Again, blood struck the floor.

 
Splat.

 
Again, the scream tore through him.

  

Scream.

 
The scene repeated without mercy. Each time, the details became sharper. He could see the blood gathering in the seams between the stones. He could see the tremor in his mother's fingers. He could see the moment her eyes searched for him.

 
He could see that he had not saved her.

 
That was the part his mind refused to release.

 
Not the murder itself.

 
His failure to prevent it.

 
His own helplessness had become a room inside his skull. He was locked inside it, forced to watch the same moment from every angle. Sometimes he stood at the doorway. Sometimes he was across the room. Sometimes he was holding the weapon. Sometimes he was the one lying on the floor,

 
He always failed.

 
He always watched.

 
He always heard the scream.

 
Mason's breath hitched. His fingers dug into the blood-colored grass until dirt packed beneath his nails. Tears leaked down his face and vanished into the red soil.

 
Pitiful.

Weak.

Useless.

The words did not sound like an outside voice anymore. They had grown familiar. They used his mother's voice.

 
You fail when it matters.

You freeze when people need you.

You hesitate, and everyone pays for it.

Elaine's voice reached him from somewhere impossibly far away.

 
"Mason... Leon is waiting for you."

 
The words struck him, but they could not break through.

 
"Please," she begged. "Save our family."

 
What do I do?

Mason's thoughts spiraled in the dark.

 
Can I save them?

Should I get up?

No.

His body tightened around itself.

I should not.

Why should I?

So I can watch them die again?

The memory changed. His mother's face disappeared. Elaine's face took its place. Then Leon's. Then the faces of everyone he had ever failed to protect.

 
Their eyes were open.

 
Their mouths moved.

 
None of them made a sound.

 
I would rather let them die without the humiliation of watching me fail to save them.

The thought made him nauseous.

 
All this power I possess, and it is never enough.

Leon is not even as strong as me, yet he can do anything.

Arnold could make a flawless plan in seconds.

Arnold would know what to do.

Arnold would already be standing.

Mason imagined them looking down at him. Not with anger. That would have been easier. They looked disappointed.

 
Nothing I do is good enough.

I cannot compare to them.

Not now.

Not ever.

Should I even be alive?

Does my life have any worth?

Am I allowed to exist?

The questions fell through his mind one after another, disappearing into a bottomless place.

 
For several seconds, there was no answer.

 
Then Mason began to hyperventilate.

 
His lungs dragged in air too quickly. His chest seized. His vision contracted until the forest became a tunnel of red and black. Every sound sharpened. Every distant explosion became an impact inside his skull. The trees whispered his name.

 
Mason.

Mason.

Mason.

He clawed at his clothing until his fingers found the necklace around his throat.

 
The pendant was small and worn smooth from years of handling. His mother had given it to him during the last happy memory he could still trust. He remembered her smile. He remembered the warmth of her hand. He remembered believing, for one brief and perfect moment, that nothing terrible could ever reach them.
He closed his fist around the necklace.

 
The pendant burned against his palm.

 
For one sharp instant, his mind cleared.

 
Then the voice returned.

 
No.

I should not exist.

Useless garbage is better off discarded.

That is all I am.

Mason's grip tightened until the edges of the pendant cut into his skin.

 
But maybe even trash has a purpose.

The thought appeared quietly, almost shyly.

 
Maybe something worthless can still be used.

Maybe, despite being a traitor, despite being weak, despite everything I have ruined, I can still give them something.

Time.

If giving them more time costs me my life, then that is enough.

Mason opened his eyes.

 
The blood forest stared back.

 
Elaine was on the ground only a few feet away. Her body trembled violently. One hand was pressed to her stomach. The other reached toward him, fingers curled helplessly through the grass.

 
"Mason," she whispered.

 
The voices in his head went silent.

 
He pushed himself up.

 
His arms shook. His knees nearly collapsed. For a moment, the forest tilted sideways, and he thought he would fall back into the grass. The distant siege towers blurred into black pillars. The red sky churned overhead like a living wound.

 
But he remained standing.

 
Mason drew in a breath.

 
It came out as a ragged pant, animal-like and desperate.

 
He looked at Elaine.

 
Then he looked toward the battlefield.

 
Now that he was on his feet, there was work to do.

 
Abaddon's domain had severed his connection to his element. The Ghost's influence pressed against him from every direction, smothering his power and turning the air inside his lungs heavy.

 
Mason could feel the domain trying to convince his body that resistance was pointless.

 
Still, his family was waiting.

 
He reached inward.

 
At the center of his being, his black mana core stirred.

 
The core rattled inside him like an enormous kettle sealed beneath a mountain. A low hiss rolled through his bones. Heat flooded his skull. His stomach lurched. The veins in his temples rose beneath his skin as he clenched his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache.

 
The shadows answered.

 
Not willingly.

 
They gathered at the edges of his perception, thin and trembling, hiding beneath roots, inside cracks, and beneath rocks They behaved like frightened animals. When Mason reached for them, they recoiled.

 
He reached again.

 
A sound like a glass mirror cracking rang through his ears.

 
Mason swayed.

 
Blood trickled from one nostril.

 
He ignored it.

 
Inside his mind, he imagined a rope tied around the shadows. It was thick, black, and soaked in something warm. He wrapped both hands around it and pulled.

 
The rope tightened.

 
The shadows resisted.

 
Pull.

 
His muscles trembled.

 
Pull.

 
His vision flashed white.

 
Pull.

 
The darkness began to move.

 
It dragged itself from beneath the roots in long, reluctant streams. It seeped from the hollows of the trees. It poured from the cracks in the earth. It gathered around Mason's feet, twisting and coiling like a swarm of blind serpents.

 
The forest grew colder.

 
The blood-red grass bent away from him.

 
Mason continued pulling.

 
In his mind, he heaved on the rope again and again, the way a sailor might fight against a storm to bring down a sail. Every movement tore at his core. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass.

 
The shadows crawled closer.

 
They wrapped around his ankles.

 
They climbed his legs.

 
Mason pulled until his fingers bled.

 
"Come here," he rasped.

 
The shadows shuddered.

 
"I said... come here!"

 
The black mana core hissed louder.

 
Something inside him began to crack.

Mason felt the fracture travel through his spirit. He knew that if he pulled any harder, the damage might become permanent. He knew his body was warning him to stop. He knew the thing inside his mind that wore his mother's voice was waiting for him to fail.

 
So he pulled harder.

 
The shadows surged.

 
Behind him, Elaine screamed.

 
Ahead of him, the ancient battlefield roared.

 
And inside Mason's skull, the memory of his mother's death began to play once more.

 
This time, he did not curl into a ball.

 
This time, he kept pulling.

 
For Mason had a job to do. 

 
Finally after an eternity, the shadows were completely subservient to him.

 
Forcibly commanding the domain that dwelled inside him, one that he did not fully control, to come out greatly strained his body mind and soul. Yet Mason did so to be of use to Leon and Elaine.

 
That alone made his pain worth it.

 
Mentally projecting where he wished to take Elaine, the shadows instantaneously rose from the ground beneath Elaine as wispy black hands. The hands began to grasp at her, growing in numbers as she pulled down into the deeply cold embrace that was the shadows.