PARIS AND XANDRA SKIDDED TO A STOP, staring into a dark abyss before them. They were in a cracked, dark part of the city. In the real world, it was a homeless shelter. In Mirage, it was the largest black hole in New York. 

Xandra tugged them both to the edge, the wind whistling around them as if the hole wanted to suck them in. Illias, his face scratched from the concrete and loose rubble, wobbled slightly on his feet. Xandra shoved him upright. 

Paris brought his lightsabers up to Illias' throat, pinning him on either side. 

"Move and I'll kill you," Paris said pleasantly. 

Illias glared at him. 

Xandra pulled a metal chair with a screech, tossing it dangerously close to the edge. "Sit," she told Illias.

Illias grinned. "If I move, I'll get killed," he said lightly. 

Paris pressed the burning heat of his sabers to Illias' neck, the skin reddening and bubbling where the electric light touched his skin. 

"Sit." Paris growled, shadows growing along his face. 

Illias slowly, smirkingly, sat. 

Xandra pulled her belt from her waist, looping it around Illias' hands and the back of the chair, securing it with a vicious yank. 

"I'm gonna give him a haircut," Paris stuck his tongue between his teeth, maneuvering the tip of his blade so it sliced off a few wet strands that sliced across Illias' forehead. He grit his teeth, resisting the urge to flinch. 

"Watch him closely," Xandra warned, flexing her legs. "If he tries anything, push him into the pit." 

"As you wish." 

"Stop quoting things at me!" 

He started singing. "Is it too late now to say sorry--" 

Xandra zipped off in a blur, leaving a curl of smoke in her wake. 

"Some things never change," Illias said thoughtfully, tied to the chair. 

"Shut it, Cross," Paris snapped. "Who asked you, Cross? Who do you think you are, Cross?" 

Illias shut his eyes, pained. "Just push me in the pit already." 

NAOKI JOLTED UP IN A COLD SWEAT, PANTING. The window outside was shadowed with crumbling buildings, overgrown with moss and ivy. Wrecked cars cluttered the streets like a child's leftover playthings. The clouds grew heavy and black over the patchwork sky. 

She was back. 

Her apartment was a mosh of bright yellows and blues and greens that looked abhorrent and strange against the backdrop of the apocalypse outside. She knew she was wasting time by slinking around the place, touching the vases and paintings on the wall, stroking the duvet of her parents' bed, but she couldn't help it. As if her fingertips could prove to her what was real, and what was fake. These sheets were new, the kitchen countertop had been replaced, the fridge was recently cleaned, the rug had been washed. 

But everything was a dream. Dreams within dreams. Naoki touched her forehead. Dreams were the problem with all of this, weren't they? Naoki's dreams for control. Illias' dreams for possession, of a new world, of a relationship. Paris' dreams for friendship. Xandra's dreams for freedom. Dexter's dreams for self-confidence. Theo's dreams for a family. 

Mirage had become a place of dreams gone wrong. Who knew when that had began, but Naoki was certain it had been her fault. 

She slid on simple jeans, a black tank top and soft, chunky sweater. Her combat gear was on the table, placed there by her parents, but it felt wrong. Unforgiving, plastic, inhuman. 

Whatever happened next, whatever choices she made, Naoki wanted them to be hers. 

She put on her ratty sneakers and made her way downstairs, pressing her lips together anxiously. 

It would be fine. 

Everything would be fine. 

THEO WAS PREPARED FOR THE WORST. He saw Naoki's face, just a split second before she shifted it into her regular stern look. But he saw it. 

Fear. 

Whatever this plan was, Theo trusted Naoki to keep them safe. He just didn't trust her to save herself. The Naoki he knew and loved got stupid ideas when it came to helping others, running herself ragged to keep others going. This Naoki may not be the same, not exactly, but Theo believed that deep down, that same instinct was there. 

Of course, trusting her didn't mean he wanted to be kept in the dark. 

"I'll give you my undying love and appreciation," he pledged. 

She gave him a look, footsteps crunching in the debris of concrete. 

He kept after her. "Or if you don't want that, fine. My parents are pretty well-off. You want a necklace? A dog? A--" he wiggled his eyebrows "--ring?" 

Her look concentrated into one of blistering contempt. 

Theo put his hands up unapologetically. "I'm just saying. I could get it. If you wanted it." 

Naoki cracked a tiny smile. "Nice try, Sun-Laurent. Maybe next time." 

"Hopefully," Dexter stressed, "there won't be a next time? No hate, Naoki, but if you keep picking up psychotic exes that we have to take down in the dream realm, I might need you to reconsider your type." 

Naoki gave Dexter a real grin at that. Theo scowled. "I'll vet all my prospective choices through you. How do you feel about Sun-Laurent?" 

Dexter snorted, stepping around a chunk of taxi cab. "Psycho, but definitely nothing to worry about. You could take him." 

Theo protested, then stopped in his tracks. "Hey! I-- wait. I'm a prospective choice?"

"Hurry up, Prospect," Naoki called, never looking back. "We've got to get my ex out of the way first." 

"I'm a prospective choice," Theo grinned, and sprinted after them. 

ILLIAS STARED INTO THE FACES OF HIS FRIENDS, HIS FAMILY, HIS FOES. Bound to a chair, teetering over the yawning black maw of inescapable nothing, a lightsaber held to his throat. He could feel the heat of it pulsing, vibrating in time with the ticking pulse in Paris' jaw. The pretty boy might pretend to be calm and cool, but Illias could see just how deeply he loathed him. 

How much they all loathed him, really. Sweet Dexter verged on murderous, Theo couldn't look him in the eye without swearing furiously, Paris was dangerously close to slitting his throat before whatever pagan rite they had concocted could be carried out. And Xandra-- Xandra's glare sent chills skating down his back. 

But the only one who really made him shiver was Naoki. Somehow, she was still so beautiful. Blue hair slashing across pale skin like cracks in a mirror, her dark eyes glittering and smudged with liner. The circles beneath her eyes made her look haunted, and wrapped in a soft black sweater, she seemed to shift and curl like smoke. 

"This is all a mistake, really," Illias said, clearing his throat, ripping his gaze from her. "I'm not your villain." 

Paris and Theo glanced at each other, then burst into howls of laughter. 

"You-- not the villain?" Paris panted, wiping tears from his eyes. He giggled. "And I'm Pikachu." 

Theo was laughing so hard, and so silently, his shoulders shook like an earthquake. "He's a- comedian- HA!" 

Xandra smirked. "Illias, you poor excuse for a shit, you abused Naoki, tormented half of the Keepers in this realm, nearly cost us thousands of lives, and acted like you loved us? If that isn't a villain, then I don't know what the fuck is," she was growling now, leering in close like a starving panther. 

"Yeah, yeah, if you're not the villain, then who is?" Theo had composed him self (barely) and was holding back snorts of laughter. "Dexter?" 

Dexter, who looked a little green, took a step back. "Guys... I don't think--" 

"You want a villain?" Illias cut over him, his voice as loud as the whipping wind, cutting through their mirth. "Look behind you." 

They stopped. Turned. 

Naoki clutched her sweater around her, swallowing up the paleness of her arms with the black cotton. She seemed to shrink. 

Xandra hadn't turned around, though. She slammed her palm into the back of the chair, letting it swoop and tip at the edge of the screaming pit, before catching it with a fingertip. 

"It's just a distraction," Xandra snapped at the others, her eyes flaring into his. "Don't pay him any mind." 

Illias tutted, ignoring Xandra, locking eyes with blue-haired Naoki. He gave her a little sad smile. "What's the matter, Noki? Even now, you haven't told them the truth?" 

"Man, shut up already," Paris groaned. "Last ditch villain efforts never work. Haven't you seen Star Wars?" 

"Bad example," Dexter blanched. 

Paris thought about it. "Wait yeah never mind-" 

But Theo had clocked Naoki's face. The sinking, shrinking smallness of someone caught in a lie. A large, large lie. 

"Naoki?" he rasped. 

She flinched. Shut her eyes. But she spoke anyway. "No." 

It felt like the wind died, the world stopped. Even Xandra turned. 

"What do you mean?" Theo asked softly. Illias began to laugh. 

Xandra whipped her head back. "If you're talking about her little dream voodoo magic, that's nothing. That doesn't excuse the choices you made, the things you've done. She only made you like her!" 

She turned back to the boys. "When we were in high school, Naoki was figuring out her powers. She accidentally used her shadow magic to... twist Illias' feelings about her. But she only planted a suggestion, like in Inception. She manipulated Illias into a relationship, and she confessed it all to me one night. It's why he got so obsessive and psycho over her. But that doesn't excuse the things you did to the Keepers, or to--" 

"No," Naoki said again, faintly, but it carried so far. "No, Xandra. He's right." 

Xandra faltered. "I--" 

"I made him love me," she said, cold, numb. Theo took a step back. "And I made him like this." 

The silence seemed to shrink in on them, suffocating. 

"I just--" her voice broke. "What were we doing there? What were we doing? We were goddamn maids, stitching up holes, running about to fix problems that we could change in the real world! And I just-- I thought that if we had a problem. A real problem. Not some- some backcloset maintenance janitor work, that we could make a real change! They would see a real threat, we would start--" 

But Xandra had let Illias go, no longer dangling him above the void. She stared at Naoki. 

"You made this?" she gestured around her, face falling. Decimated buildings, crumbling skyscrapers, cars crumpled like soda cans. "You?" 

Tears slipped down Naoki's cheeks, sinking, sinking into that black sweater. "I didn't mean to. I wanted it for a split second and then all of a sudden it was dark and please, Xandra, please, I didn't mean it--" 

Xandra had her hand pressed to her mouth, holding back sobs. "Naoki, what did you do?" 

Illias was laughing, loud and rough and hysterical. 

Theo couldn't stop staring at Naoki. Paris' lightsaber dipped, falling away from Illias' bobbing throat. Dexter's mouth had fallen open in soft despair. 

Illias laughed so hard he began to cough, his throat choking and dry. Tears soaked his cheeks, his chest convulsing painfully as he screamed in laughter. 

Naoki stepped forward. The others flinched back. She raised her hands, even as they shook. "Look. I know I did wrong. So, so wrong. But I'm going to fix this." 

"Don't fix this," Theo choked. "Naoki, just don't do anything please--" 

She took another step. Illias giggled wheezily. Another step. 

"Naoki, stop," Xandra said, her voice shaky. 

Another step. The shadows seemed to amass, growing larger at the feet of buildings, the sky darkening thickly. 

"Paris--" Xandra gasped. 

But Paris had already moved. His electric sword sizzled through the air and leveled at Naoki's chest. 

"Don't," he said, ashen. 

Naoki smiled sadly at him. "It's okay Paris." 

She raised her hands. The darkness bulged, horrible, growing, rushing in on them with a screaming vengeance-- Illias cackled high and loud, thrashing, his eyes wide with fear-- 

Paris thrust his lightsaber through Naoki's chest, the cotton of her sweater sizzling. 

A tear slunk down his cheek, hitting the plasma of his blade with a hiss. 

Naoki cupped his cheek. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. 

And everything went black.