It's night, and I am not sure why I am awake. I blink up at the darkness hanging over me like a fog bank, blurring the contours and edges of the ceiling so much I am not sure where the ledge ends and the step up begins.

The oppressive tingle of silence presses at my ears, weighed by the lethargy of night, and I stir, turning my head to the side to check the time. 2:43am.

Why am I awake? Holding my breath and pushing myself up on my elbows, I strain my ears, stretching my senses as far as they will go, but I find nothing. No movement, no whisper, nothing that would rouse me. I am not even hungry, or aching, or even tired. Strange.

Mentally shaking my head, I drop back into my pillow and close my eyes, relaxing as much as I can. Maybe it was a dream, or maybe it was something else, or maybe it's just one of those random wakeful moments. Whatever it is, I want to go back to sleep.

As the covers settle around me, Wraith's face takes shape in the emptiness behind my eyelids. Her sharp and jagged features are framed by her hair—impossibly black with streaks of dirty gray—swept back from her face and tied in a short, scruffy ponytail at the nape of her neck. But what stands out most is her eyes. They glare at me from behind the darkness of my eyelids, accusing, burning, like an atomic knife slicing through my ribs.

Leave, they scream through the glare, Bring this building down on us all, or whatever, but leave.

Deception's face overtakes Wraith's, a suave smile brightening her expression as she approaches me with the liquid prowl of a cat. Where Wraith is wild and rough around the edges, Deception is all smooth scales and elegance hinting at something more, equally dangerous as alluring. And she is purple, in her eyes, on her lips, streaked through her hair, just like the clouds of byzantine shades inside of me and—

"She'll kill thousands with you under her thumb, and it'll be on your hands."

A crazed snort bursts from me, shattering the silence and jerking my thoughts back to reality. I roll and sit up, gripping the edge of my bed as I stare at the opposite wall slowly being illuminated by the motion-sensor nightlights.

I am losing it, I really am. She's getting to me and I—I don't know what I'll do.

I can't hold on until the heroes find me. (Did they even see my message? Did they even understand it? What if they come too late? What if they take months to find me and by then I am under her thumb? Not just that—willingly under her thumb? Is there any return from that?)

My heart becomes hot and itchy around the edges, chambers expanding and collapsing with the force of prickles streaming into my veins. I squeeze my eyes, hold my breath, hold as still as I can, the itching growing like a snowball tumbling down a hill. What if it's too late for me? What I already don't want to leave? What if—

My resolve snaps and I fly to my feet, snatching the holowatch on the bedside table and bolting to the door. No. Wraith's right. I have to get out of here before then. I can't wait for the heroes, I have to do something more, just in case. Just to do something. Otherwise— I grab the thought by the throat and shove it down into a blender and let the blades shred it to pieces.

I will do something, somehow. I will get out of here. I will not lose myself to Deception.

The door hisses open and I dart down the hall, my bare feet hardly making a sound as I do. My heart thuds with the time of my feet, swelling with each prickly moment, implications fighting to attack my resolve.

By the time I reach the main room and the Leaper at the far end, I am panting and the itching has died down to a bearable level. I slow to a stop in front of the Leaper, glancing over my shoulder. Most of the consoles are dark, but some still have holograms hovering over them, their ethereal light casting the room in fuzzy shapes, almost making the entire place somehow unreal and apart from reality.

What am I even doing? There's bound to be cameras, and I know that the holowatch can track my location. I can't escape like this. Inwardly shaking myself, I face the Leaper again. That's not the point, I tell myself. You're just looking for possibilities, for a good wall to blank, for some way out. Going for a walk to clear your head, if anyone asks.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I approach the Leaper's panel. It lights up as I come within proximity to it, the levels displayed in numbers instead of the usual 3d floor plan. There's seven floors, but all but G is grayed out. I tap it.

"Scanning for identity," the Leaper announces, its voice far too loud and scanning light too bright.

I wince, frozen in place. Will this even work? I've Leapt before with Deception and Sebastian but never alone. Am I even authorized? I'd look mighty suspicious if it denied me access and Deception could access its log and see me trying to leave in the wee hours of the morning. And then she'd... I don't know what.

"Authorized identity. Proceed."

Tension releases my lungs and I peel my eyes open, eyeing the panel. It's green and the doors slide open with a hiss. I...can go? Suspicion's fog slides between my bones and I hesitate, foot raised mid step.

Why am I authorized? Especially in the middle of the night? Is this some sort of trap? A trick?

The Leaper beeps a warning, and I clench my fingers into fits, pulling myself forward and into the Leaper. Gravity vanishes and I am propelled up, up, up, and straight out the other end. Stumbling, I twist around, just in time for the the Leaper's doors to close. Even if it's a trick, I am still going to do something tonight. Besides, there's no going back now. I just have to stick to my alibi.

Running both hands through my hair and spinning on my heels, I scan the large, dimly lit room. It looks much different illuminated by low-level strips of warm light by the floor, more spacious and eerie, like a looming unfriendly, abandoned mansion. A click and a hum sounds to my left and I whirl.

An AAS has its camera fixed on me, the two circular disks on either side of its body glowing the calm blue of peaceful mode. It slides closer to me, lilting to one side, then settles an arm's length behind my shoulder.

I hold still, heart pounding danger, danger, danger into the base of my skull, legs braced to run as soon as it turns red, as soon as a security bot shows up, as soon as alarms start screaming the dead awake. One nanosecond, two nanoseconds, three nanoseconds...nothing. The AAS just hovers there, calm blue camera fixed on me.

Is it...safe? Am I safe? Is it really not going to report me? Or am I...authorized? A cold tingle runs down my spine. Something is definitely up, and now I have to be extra careful to look like I am taking a walk, not checking escape routes.

Shoring up my courage, I drop my hands from my hair and start walking in a random direction, the AAS following at a short distance. The marble is cool and smooth under my feet, chilling my toes with each soft step that seems to ever so slightly echo in the large room. Sticking near the walls where the most light is, I pick a hall and walk down it, hands tightly balled in my pockets.

Somehow, the glitter and sleek importance of the mansion is transformed into jagged shadows and looming disapproval by the oppressive darkness. Each turn is anticipated by ice sliding down my arms and taut nerves, each darkened doorway is carefully kept track of, and each corridor traversed with caution of the unknown lying around just out of sight.

I let my feet carry me aimlessly around, picking halls randomly. And for the entire time I passed closed door after closed door and lavishly decorated hall, circling staircases (that I dared not take, lest I get more lost), and nooks and crannies of thick shadows, not once did I find a single window.

Eventually, the hall opens up and I find myself standing at the edge of the garden Deception took me to the day before yesterday, moonlight pouring a comforting silver-gray through gently swaying foliage, creating a dappled, natural shadows lacking sharp and unfriendly edges.

I step carefully into the garden, following the rock-lined path to the middle, where the bench overlooks a small flowing river. Above, the ceiling is open to the sky, the pinpricks of many stars shining down. I stop, tilting my face upwards. The sky is far, far away, framed on all sides by unyielding walls. I am so close to the outside, freedom in the square of sky, and yet I am even more trapped than I ever was.

A weariness seeps into my bones, spreading through my limbs and dropping the intense silence holding my thoughts. I drop down on the bench, pulling out my hands to comb through my hair, gaze fixed on the moonlight skating across the water.

What am I even doing?

If I escaped, what then? I...would go back to END with Edison and David, say hi to Skittles again, continue my therapy sessions with Dr. Egret, awkwardly continue to make friends with the rest of the Storm Cell team and...leave behind Wraith, trapped and folding in on herself, Deception who still loves me, Grease and Conflagration under control, and a piece—a ghost—of my old self here.

Things would be the same as before: wondering who I am and what will I do before I die. And I...I am tired of wondering the meaning behind me and I. I just want to have something meaningful to do, something worth spending the little time I have left.

Something like trying to change the world? a purple thought whispers. Something like remaking the system? Reworking the Villain vs. Hero boxes? Something like working with someone who knows who you were?

I drop my head into my hands, squeezing the curls between my fingers hard enough it hurts. Yes, but, lingers on my mental tongue, the rest of the sentence scattering down so many different paths I can't keep track of it all.

"Elias?"

Ice jolts through my hands and I nearly yank out a lock of hair as I snap my head up.

Deception stands on the path, large, loose shirt billowing around her slightly, eyes glittering a washed out purple in the moonlight. An AAS like my own hovers behind her, circular wings also calm blue.

My heart sinks past my stomach and into an empty abyss between my organs. "Deception," I whisper, averting my eyes. She's the last person I need to see tonight, and yet, the purple part of me relaxes as she approaches.

"What are you doing up?" She sits beside me, not too close, but not far enough away, either. The AAS hums as it hovers where it was before then, at a flick of Deception's wrist, it floats down the path and disappears.

I shrug, smoothing out wrinkles on my night shorts. With the open sky above us, it is cooler than inside and I almost wish I had changed before coming up here.

A warm hand settles onto my shoulder. "Couldn't sleep?" Her voice is gentle, smooth, full of soft concern like Edison's when he is comforting me.

The corner of my mouth lifts and twists, forming no recognizable expression. "No," I lick my lips, clearing my husky voice. "I just randomly woke up, that's all."

"Are you sure? If it was a dream, you can talk to me. I'm here."

"It wasn't a dream," I find myself saying despite myself, the rough texture of annoyance or frustration (I can't tell) grating on my words. "Or maybe it was; I don't remember anything." Why am I even telling her this? I don't have to explain myself. I don't have to answer her. I don't have to do anything with her right now. I could get up and walk away right now and save myself from whatever she's planning to do for me. I should do that.

But for some inexplicable reason, my mouth opens again and words tumble out. "I just...woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so I came here to clear my head."

Deception tilts her head, slender eyebrows lifted like delicate swan wings. (Cut it out, brain! Stop looking at her like this!) "Thoughts giving you the bother?"

"Yeah." Sour scrunches my face and I set my gaze on the stream opposite of the bench, a brooding storm cloud sharp in my veins. "It's just...everything's so complicated."

"I understand. That's why I came here, too." It's not fair that her words ring true, or that her tone is just as burdened as mine, or that it brings a dull, sympathetic ache to my ribs.

My gaze lifts to hers, pushed by the updraft of surprise. "Really?" I know she's a human just like me, but I've never imagined her being kept up by spinning thoughts. She's just—so in control, so calm and collected, so always knowing what to say or do, it's hard to think of her sitting beside me because she can't sleep instead of carrying out some alternative plan.

She nods and turns her face to the stars, her expression unreadable.