"You've incurred my wrath, you insidious little mongrel," said Jessa, aka the ruler, aka the enormous monster towering several feet up into the treetops. Her voice scorched across the forest like a blast from a fireball.

Any trace of Jessa, the real Jessa was gone, but for the faint outline of her face. This creature was just that: a creature. A gigantic, purple-skinned beast with a mouthful of spells and a belly ripe with hunger.

Fuck.

"The gods are on their way," she said, her words thundering down the ground, further rattling it. As if the place wasn't already headed for a deadly earthquake, her arrival worsened the shaking and dropping of leaves and tree-trunks. "In case you hadn't noticed," she gestured towards the sky, which seemed so close to her with her height, "their arrival is imminent."

Patrek's body tensed as he pressed to Miles' side, forming a blockade in front of Mr. Reynolds. "Let Jessa go, you witch! She didn't ask for this, and you shouldn't be using her for your fucked up games!"

Miles grabbed his wrist, yanking at it to signal for him to back down. "Don't rile her up, man," he whispered, keeping his mouth mostly closed. "We have to be strategic with this. One swipe of that hand," he gulped at the sight of said hand, easily half his size, "and we're dead."

"But we can't let her go around possessing whoever the fuck she pleases, right?" Patrek didn't back down, didn't lower his voice. "You might not care for Jessa, and to be fair, neither do I, but don't we want to save everyone? Well, aside from Taryn..."

Miles winced as he took a quick peek at Jessa's furry companion—Vick, or whatever was left of him. "We can't save everyone, Patrek. At this point, it's us, and that's it." He was about to spin to Mr. Reynolds and confirm this with him, but something blasted towards them, buzzing in his ear—

Patrek collapsed next to him, rigid as a plank of wood, arms glued to his sides. His eyes were open, but he was hit square in the chest by something, and Miles only had to gape at Jessa to figure out what.

Her. She'd shot some striking power at his torso, likely seeking to shut him up. Her finger was still aimed at him, smoke wafting from the tip as she smirked. Patrek's limp body was a crumbled mass at Mile's feet.

"Fuck." Miles ducked, thinking she was about to shoot at him, too.

But she only lowered her arm and shrugged a hand through her violet tresses. "I won't harm you if you stop acting stupidly," she spoke, slicing through the air like a deadly machete.

Since he was crouched already, Miles moved over to Patrek, checking his pulse. Was he dead? Had this Jessa-ruler thing killed him?

To Miles' relief, Patrek's heartbeat was there. Faint but there. His chest rose and fell in uneven motions, and his eyes were forced to remain open by the shock of the hit. Miles closed them, then nudged Kera against the closest tree-trunk as he faced the monster before them.

"You can't stop us, can you? Otherwise you'd have shot me, first. I'm the instigator," he said, realizing too late how weak and wobbly his voice was. She'd cackle at his attempt at being brave; but what choice did he have? Die a coward? Or stand up to this bully once and for all?

She narrowed her gaze on him, as if shooting invisible laser beams right into his core. And he felt them, too; like bursts to the linings of his stomach, lightning to his heart. His limbs were flimsy, flailing about at his sides, and his tongue felt like it was about to slip out of his mouth. He was heavy, sweating, and gritting his teeth against the pain her presence caused.

Earlier she'd been a sinister seductress, swaying him into idolizing her. Now she was a brutal beast wanting him to prostrate at her feet and obey her every command. The sexual appeal to her had evaporated, leaving nothing but a terrifying monster in its wake.

As he opened his mouth to attempt a retaliation, screams echoed in his head. Deep ones, high-pitched ones, overlapping and re-organizing every thought in his brain, jumbling his senses. Chaos unfolded in his gut, as if something inside had exploded. He was bleeding internally, for sure; that, or his abdomen was on fire.

"Maybe," he tried, finding his voice lowered against his will. He cleared his throat, and a louder pitch came out, albeit not by much; enough for Jessa to hear him, he hoped. He couldn't look at her, wincing towards Patrek, instead. "Maybe you're not allowed to... hurt us." He pressed a hand to his stomach, and in anger at what she was doing to him, he returned his gaze to her, his eyesight watery. "Or me, at least. You have to wait for... their approval."

"Approval?" Jessa snorted; the sound reverberated through the trees and shook them. "You think I need approval to do with you as I please?"

"I think," Miles seethed, "you have less authority than you flaunt." His hand was warm, and he could have sworn something was seeping through his shirt, dampening it. Had she cut him? Was he bleeding?

No, it's all in my head. She's warping my mind, she's fooling me, fucking with me.

He wasn't hurt, not truly. She'd physically harmed Patrek, but she seemed to enjoy taking hold of Miles' consciousness and toying with it.

"You threaten us, but it's... only you," he grimaced, "because they're not even here, are they? The aliens?"

Jessa snarled at him. "Gods. Address them properly, or else."

"Or else what?" Miles realized how hypocritical he sounded, but this was the tactic he'd chosen. He'd asked Patrek to back down, but he wouldn't. Couldn't. Not now that he suspected this ruler only had so much power and could only use it so much before she had to respond to her bosses for it. "You're their emissary, that's all. You can control the monsters. You can," he side-glanced at Kera quickly, "make the disobedient into monsters, but you can't give the order to kill. You can only hurt." He gestured at Patrek. "That's why he's not dead."

A howl broke through her purple lips. "Don't test me, boy." Her voice was distorted now, a mix of deep and soft tones, weaved into one beastly concoction that scraped the insides of Miles' ears. "What I am and what I can do is beyond your comprehension. I'm giving you one last chance," her upper lip curled, "to give up this suicidal mission of yours, and to return to your cabins. You won't die, but you'll be punished. And your sweetheart," she eyed Kera with evident malice, "will become a monster. In payment for your rebellious actions."

"More like in entertainment," said Miles, unable to control the volume of his voice. His gut was in agony, drums battering incessantly in his head, yet he stayed standing, keeping firm.

Jessa took a step forward—equal to a dozen or so steps for a regular human—putting her so close to Miles that he smelled her. Her odor was that of wet fur doused in a sickeningly sweet, cheap perfume. He gagged, falling to his knees, pinching his nose to stop breathing in her toxicity.

"You're right that I can't kill you, but you're also right that I can hurt you. And I will, if you continue with your attitude. In your case, I won't knock you out like your friend; I'll keep you awake to see, feel, smell the torture I'll inflict on you."

As much as Miles wanted to stare defyingly at her, his energy was draining. Her presence took too big of a toll on him, and the more he fought her, the weaker he became.

A choked whisper reached his ears, coming from behind him. "Keep going," it said—and it was Mr. Reynolds. To Miles' surprise, he hadn't run off in fear. He was still there, protected by the barrier. Was he still planning to get them out, somehow? "She's pissed, which'll lead her to commit mistakes you can take advantage of. It's like in the movies, Miles," his whisper grew hoarser, "you push them until they break. Break her, then when she's distracted, I'll get you out."

Of all people to put his faith into, he'd have never chosen Reynolds; but Patrek was out cold, and Kera could barely move without moaning in torment. Rescuing the others—Lorenzo, Vick—was no longer in the realm of possibility. It was him, his own hide, that he needed to worry about.

"She can't do anything once you're on the other side," continued Mr. Reynolds. "Remind her of that."

Miles perked up as best as he could considering the pain Jessa inflicted on him. "Once we're past the barrier," he wrinkled his nose and held in a breath before it expanded into his lungs, "you can't control us. They, your gods, can't control us." Mr. Reynolds whispered something else to him, and Miles smiled. "Per the accords with the government, you and your gods aren't allowed past this sparkly pink perimeter, are you?"

"We're not," Jessa roared, arching her back, stretching out her clawed hands. "But who said you were getting out?"

"I did." Mr. Reynolds slid sideways, right into the path of the barrier.

Miles gritted his teeth, bracing for Mr. Reynold's body to crumble to ashes or for his limbs to be chopped off. For him to become nothing but meat flaking off the bone; the new savior evaporated into nothingness, leaving Miles to be puppy chow.

But to his relief, no blood or body parts fell to the ground. Mr. Reynolds pressed his back to the flow of the barrier, cutting it off, and leaving an opening—an exit from the forest!

It was an opening, but a small one; barely big enough for either Patrek or Kera to get through without risking a hand or a foot being ripped off. Resolved, Miles shoved himself into the barrier, too, standing across from Mr. Reynolds, leaving a space of a few feet between them.

"What are you doing?" shouted Mr. Reynolds, over the loud buzzing caused by the interruption in the boundary.

Miles' back seared, as if someone was whipping his skin off, slowly flailing him. "They need more room to get through," he said, wincing against the agony. It was like jets and jets of hot water being shot into his spine, pushing him forward, tempting him to collapse onto his knees. But he wouldn't, he couldn't. Not until Kera and Patrek got through.

He turned to Jessa, seeing her bent over, gripping the sides of her head. Something had happened to her when he and Mr. Reynolds had broken into the sparkly veil. Something had ripped through her, causing her to double over and squirm, scream, stomp her feet.

The ground rattled, and more trees tore from their roots, collapsing all around them. One trunk fell inches from Patrek's body, and Kera gasped at the near-hit.

"Shit," she said, reaching for Patrek's arm. "I..." She tried to lift it, to pull at it, but was too weak. "I can't do it. I can't move him, Miles."

Miles cringed, fighting to keep his balance, to ensure the stream of the barrier remained on his back. It hammered into his skin, under his skin, and he wasn't sure how long he could stay that way. More so since it was evident he'd have to let go, he'd have to hurry and hurl Patrek and Kera through while somehow helping Mr. Reynolds keep the gap wide enough.

Jessa was still holding her head, not seeing the barrier being breached. The world around her was falling to pieces, and even Vick howled at the moon, sounding so pained and destroyed that it almost broke Miles' heart.

Goodbye, friend.

"I have to keep blocking this," Miles said to Kera, motioning towards Patrek's body. "If you can at least turn him, make his arm accessible to me... I can haul him through. You'll have to crawl through, too; I won't be able to help you."

"Hurry," said Mr. Reynolds, through tightened lips. "I can feel this thing tearing into me, and I don't think I can block it much longer."

Miles heard a rip; the barrier had torn through his sweatshirt, now digging directly into his thinner layer of a t-shirt. "Yeah, hurry, Kera. Please. I know you're hurting, but this is our last shot. The last chance. Everything we did, everything we risked led us to this, and we can't fuck it up. Let's get out of here."

With a firm nod, Kera wrapped both hands around one of Patrek's wrists and tugged with all her might. Flimsy as it was, her movement worked—she was able to position Patrek to be available to Miles, and Miles nodded at her.

"Go," he said, gesturing at the narrow space he and Mr. Reynolds had created for her to go through. "Once you're past, I'll snag Patrek."

She groaned and grumbled, on her hands and knees as she carefully navigated the passage. Miles took another gander at Jessa. The giant woman had regained herself, but was too busy rubbing her eyes and grumbling about her pain to realize what was going on.

They had a few more seconds, tops. The instant Kera's feet were past the sparkly pink limitation, Miles bent over, gripped Patrek's forearm, and heaved him through. He tossed him as far as he could, watching as he landed centimeters from the barrier.

On Mr. Reynolds' signal, Miles then jumped to the right, out of the barricade, and into safety. He face-planted, but hurried to get to his feet, wiping his hands on his pants, shaking off his stupor.

It took a moment for his eyesight to adjust, but he saw that Kera had made it—she was off to the side, hurling her guts out. Miles grimaced at the sight, but she was alive, and outside of the forest, which was what mattered.

Patrek, however, didn't fare as well. He'd face-planted too, and was still unconscious, though no longer in the forest. Unfortunately, one of his feet had been cut off, as he'd landed just past the barrier. He was bleeding profusely, and Miles hurried to his side, pulling off his sweatshirt to wrap it over Patrek's ankle, hoping to stop the draining of blood.

"Fuck. He needs medical help, now," said Miles, addressing Mr. Reynolds.

Silence. No one answered but the buzz of the sparkly fence, that had fully reformed now that Miles and Mr. Reynolds were no longer in its way. He didn't even hear Jessa's yelps anymore, making him wonder if the barrier was soundproof from this side.

"Hey, dude?" Miles waved next to him, his focus remaining on Patrek's severed limb. "Can you fucking help me, or was getting in the way of the barrier your only move?"

Still, silence.

Miles drew his gaze away from Patrek and looked beside him to see he was alone. He checked behind him, to his other side, then blanched as a hunch told him to peer up from his crouched position, and through the blockade in front of him.

Mr. Reynolds was on the other side of it, inside the forbidden forest.

"Fuck," said Miles, straightening to his full height. His rib-cage ached, but he was no longer in as much pain as before, since the connection with Jessa-the-ruler had been severed. "It's okay, you can still get back through, right? You're over twenty-one."

Mr. Reynolds, bewildered-looking, swallowed. "Right." He seemed hesitant to move forward. He'd never been on the forbidden side, that much was evident by peering at him. "Right, I'm fine, I can—"

His hand met with the barrier, smashing against it. The barrier wasn't a sparkly pink band of smoke anymore—it was a wall. A solid, see-through wall that Mr. Reynolds started banging on, demanding to be let through.

Well, that explains why I can't hear much from the other side.

"What the fuck—" Miles tried touching the barrier, too. The surface was cold, ice-like, and definitely sturdy. "Shit. Shit."

The ground shook. Being on the good side didn't stop that from happening. Jessa's gigantic form appeared behind Mr. Reynolds, her head nearly reaching the treetops. She was so high up Miles couldn't see her face, but her voice, sharp and serrated, blew over the trees and the limit, and filtered into Miles' ears.

"They're here. They're here, and they're not going to let you out, my pet."

Miles crouched, covering his head, thinking Jessa meant to reach over the solid barrier and grab him. But when nothing touched him, he perked up and watched through the boundary as she instead grabbed Mr. Reynolds by the neck hairs, hauling him a foot off the ground.

"You distracted me," she said, bending down and glaring at Miles. "But it's okay, because we still have a prize. A better one, it seems. Fresh," she approached her big nose to Mr. Reynolds and sniffed him, "and more mature."

"Let him go!" Miles pounded his fists on the barrier.

Jessa wagged a massive finger at him. "No. My gods have locked the blockade now, for everyone. And since this one," she jiggled Mr. Reynolds, jerking him back and forth like a dog's chew toy, "helped you escape, he'll pay in your place. Unless you wish to come back?" She arched an eyebrow, a smirk sneaking across her mouth.

Mr. Reynolds, his body turned towards Miles for a split second, shook his head. "Go. Get out of here."

Miles didn't want to leave him, not now that he saw the man wasn't as evil as he'd portrayed himself. Not now that he'd had a redemption arc, that he'd proved himself to be at least somewhat human.

But Miles couldn't stay here, none of them could. The faster they got off the island, the safer they'd be.

"They'll be angered," yelled Mr. Reynolds, having to strain to speak loud enough for Miles to hear him through the transparent wall. "They'll want revenge. Go, now, get everyone off this island. Save us all. Do what Ms. Moreno was doing, expose it—"

Jessa yanked Mr. Reynolds away and upward with such force, Miles worried she'd snapped his neck. He hung limply from her clutch, eyes closed, chin tipped down.

"This isn't over," she said, nearing her face to the wall. It was almost as big as Miles was tall, and he stammered backwards in surprise. "Go ahead, go tell your world about us. See what'll happen."

She stretched up to her immense height, and with a few giant, thundering steps, she heaved Mr. Reynolds away, back through the trees, headed towards the beach. Vick, like an obedient puppy dog, followed on her heels, not sparing a single glance at Miles.

He's not Vick anymore; he's her pet, her object.

The beach—Miles thought of its soft sand, its toxic waves lapping up to swallow any innocent students in its path.

Was that where the aliens would land? Would they arrive through the water, or from the skies? Would they teleport? Would they—

Dizziness overcame him, and he toppled to the side, smooshing into the grass, next to Patrek. His eyes closed, and he wasn't sure when they'd open again.