It was as if we'd jumped through two different times zones. One second we were caught up in a vicious battle and the next we were safely behind a sealed wall.

Adrenaline pumped through my blood, causing my to tremble uncontrollably.

My eyes become blurred and I realize I'm crying. Tears streak through the grime on my cheeks.

Then Cicada's face fills my entire periphery vision. "We need to get you out of the open."

She laces her fingers through mine, and guides me toward a narrow, vacant alleyway. Soldiers are swarming the streets of Verro, bewildered to the battle raging outside.

We walk down the alleyway that ends in a tiny square alcove. There is a crack through the floor, just big enough for probably someone my age could slip through.

"There is a network of rivers below us," Jonah says, "this is one of the entrances to one of the tunnels they eroded below the Network."

Jonah is the first to slip through.

"We'll be down in a second!" Cicada calls.

Then she pulls me off the the side. Her brown eyes are wide, her gold stripe flashes in the light filtering through the alley. "Are you alright?"

My mouth literally falls open. "No." I want to say more but I can't will myself to, my mind is in a trillion different places right now.

"I know you know what's happening?"

Over and over against I see my fingers flexing around the neck of the possessed villager man, my blade slices, blood spills. Blood spills onto my palms. I have blood on my hands.

I look down at my hands, that have started to shake again.

Cicada reaches out the grab them, but I pull away, stepping over the crack to crest distance between us.

"Don't," I say, "I'll hurt you."

"That's crazy, Al, why would you hurt me?"

"I'm a killer, Cicada. I have blood on my hands." I raise my hands in front of my face so she can see.

"Al, there's only dirt on your hands."

I look up. My hands are covered in dirt and grime, no blood, but I saw it, I saw blood. I saw blood on my hands. They were covered in red.

Cicada reaches up and folds her hands in mine. Her touch is warm against my icy fingers. How are they cold it there's blood on them?

"It's alright, Al, you're safe."

My body trembles uncontrollably and the tears return, pouring from my eyes shamelessly.

She closes the gap between us, wrapping her arms tightly around my thin frame. Her warmth consumes me and I find myself calming.

Some time later, I am hiccuping, the aftermath of crying. Cicada and I sit propped up against the wall, not cringe if Jonah is down in dark tunnels by himself. I'd just finished filling Cicada in on everything that had happened since I was Putin Detention in Verro.

"I'm a skilled killer," I say pitifully. A tear breaks and falls. My stone facade of passiveness has turned to glass and shattered, and now everything is coming out. I have a hold on nothing anymore.

"You're not a killer at heart, Al," Cicada says.

"What's the difference if I'm a killer at mind or heart if I've killed men?"

"Alaric, a killer is someone vile, someone who is dark. You are a survivor. You don't trust yourself enough to follow those instincts. We push them away because you think you're some kind of monster, so your body does it for you."

No, I can't let her sugarcoat the fact that my hand are still covered in crimson.

"Al, you are not a monster, the Dragon is a monster."

"I stabbed him in the throat."

"You were surviving."

"I took many lives today, regardless of my reasons."

"Regardless? You're reasons to take a life mean everything! You can't just toss them away and pretend like your some kind of abomination for protecting your life!"

I look at her. Pink has risen in her cheeks and her breaths are short. She is angry.

"Don't be mad," I say.

"Then treat yourself like you deserve."

"I'm just different-."

"No, Alaric, you are anything but different. Do you think the people Above has Dreams of us? Do you think they even know? Just because you haven't had some stupid vision that everyone else has, doesn't mean there's something wrong with you, it just makes you unique. Unique people accomplish things that us standards can't."

"Then why don't they treat me like I'm unique."

"To hell with how they treat you! You shouldn't give a damn how they treat you! It's all about how you treat yourself!"

I am stumped. Cicada has always had a better way with words than me.

"You're better than they let you think. You tried to save the herald's life. Whatever the Dragon said to you, he's just trying to get under your skin."

"Well it's working."

Cicada brought her hand up and brushed my chin and forced me to look her in the eyes. "You are stronger than the Dragon, Al. We will defeat him."

We stayed there for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. She looked a way that I'd never seen her before. I've always thought of Cicada as a friend. I knew she was good-looking and had a good personality, but now I see beauty, inside and out. Over the years I'd thought I was suffering alone, that no one could empathize me, no one could feel the pain that I had felt everyday.

Now here's Cicada, suffering because I had been suffering. She may not have felt the same pain I did, but she felt pain with me and for me. She'd felt pain because she knew exactly how I thought of myself.

She leans forward. I breath in her scent as she folds her arms around my neck and kisses me.

Electricity courses through my vein at the sensation of her lips on mine. I kiss her back, taking in every ounce of her and not wanting to let go. This feeling is unlike anything I've ever felt. It's warm and makes my heart feel light. I don't ever want this feeling to go away.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. Cicada pulls away sometime later and we stare at each other wide-eyed.

"Jonah is waiting for us," She says. She stands and disappears through the crack. I follow into the pitch-blackness below.

I click my tongue and find Jonah sitting, propped up against the tunnel wall.

"What took you guys so long?" He moans.

"We were talking," is all Cicada says. I figure that she wants to keep the details between us.

"What are we going to do?" Jonah asks. He's gone from cranky to vulnerable. He's scared. Jonah is usually the toughest amongst the three of us.

"We are at war with this creature," I say, "but he hasn't risen yet. He's somewhere in the prison in Verro. We need to find him before he escapes and destroys the Council."

"What?" Jonah asks confused. I remember that I never explained to him what was actually going on.

Cicada and I sit down next to him, taking turns to explain pieces to him.

"The Dragon possessed whole villages of the Unified people, the clanless, and made them his army. So he could begin the war before he escaped wherever he's being held," I say.

"So that's who attacked us during Al's execution," Cicada finishes.

"So we are at war with some ancient demon creature thing, that was alive during Alvus Constantine?"

"Basically," Cicada replies.

"Except we don't know what he is. Apparently he's known as the Lizard of Death and the Dragon so I'm guessing he probably has scales," I add.

"Ok," Jonah says. His brave face is on. The face he wore when we were kids and used to pretend we were ancient Vonican soldiers battling off the rebels. Now his face is more than just a game. It's a barricade from what's really going on inside his head. It's a vain attempt for him to seem unafraid. "Let's go find this Dragon."