As much as I had grown to hate the forest, it still served as my go-to place to hide from everything. It was where I had used to come to whenever the Power needed to come out, but it had been a long time since that had happened.

Now I found myself resting against a familiar tree in a familiar clearing. With my back pressed against the harsh bark, I let out a long sigh.

In the two days that had passed since Ali’s death, the RoCitian forces had done an excellent job in Paris. Buildings had been taken over, important figures taken hostage, and anybody that had gotten in the way had been dealt with.

Cecilia had sort of turned into my messenger over the past two days whilst I had been hiding away from everyone. She had informed me that General Woodward was considering pushing outward from Paris and towards Versailles. I had given my approval. It was all down to him.

Part of me felt bad for hiding away from everyone. But I didn’t know how to deal with my emotions. I had never had to deal with insane waves of grief or sadness until I had come to RoCity.

I usually dealt with it with anger. When Henry and Grandad had been killed, I had gone wild with rage and lashed out. I had delivered a verbal beatdown to Robert after he had killed Henry, and I had actually murdered Amy after she had killed my Grandad.

When Jeremy died, I had been forced to hide my emotions for Cecilia’s sake. She couldn’t see me upset at her brother’s death. She needed someone to be strong for her.

Now Ali was dead. I hadn’t really had time to think about it until I had regained consciousness after passing out in front of everyone.

Righello had shown up immediately after Ali had been killed, so I had been a bit occupied with him. I didn’t even know what state he was in. He could’ve been dead. Using my Instinct Point quite literally shut down my mind. It was like sleeping.

Then I had had to fight Maltor to protect Harvey. And what a fight it had been. A short, intense bout. Arguably the most intense one between the two of us thus far.

But now that two days had passed, I had had plenty of time to think about it.

It could’ve been anyone. It could’ve been me. Isaac. Ethan. Cecilia. It was a miracle that only one of us was caught by the debris.

I leaned my head back against the bark and stared up at the sky through the open roof of the clearing.

I hadn’t cried at all since his death. My eyes had been the driest that they had ever been in all my fourteen years. I simply could not cry anymore.

I was so incredibly bad at protecting those dear to me that I had gotten the grandson of a Primordial killed. That had to be a skill.

How many more would I fail to save?

I hoped our forces destroyed France. Reduced it to ashes. Once that was done, I would force such an incredible amount of pain onto Maltor, Quinn, Emma, Righello - if he was still alive – and every single one of the soldiers on their side.

I let out a long sigh.

Once the soldiers took France, all that was left was to take Maltor’s life. Five times I had failed. Five. Damn. Times.

The attack felt like a failure. Yes, the RoCitian forces were doing really well in Paris as I sat in silence against a tree, but it still felt like a failure. One of my best friends had died and I had failed to kill Maltor again.

Gods, I had even had the chance to kill Quinn. He, too, had been right there. And I hadn’t taken my chance. I had failed yet again.

I swore every day that I would kill them both. It was the only thing I went on about. I constantly droned on and on about how I would kill them and how I was so high and mighty and I would destroy them the next time I saw them.

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Why couldn’t I?

Every single damn time something seemed to get in the way. The first fight: Maltor had simply fled. Second: he had spared my life. Third: Quinn and Emma. Fourth: his soldiers. Fifth: a damn grenade.

Perhaps it was because I had been extremely tired. If I hadn’t been coming off a fight against Righello, I might have gotten to him in my rage when I saved Harvey.

No. I couldn’t blame it on other factors. It all came down to me. It was my fault.

‘Forgive me…’ I breathed as I rose to my feet. ‘I’m so sorry…’

I stared up at the sky, feeling nothing. My entire body felt numb. ‘Empty’ was the word that came to mind, but my body was so full of such a strange feeling of numbness that it felt wrong to describe it as such.

I couldn’t really wrap my head around it. Ali. Dead. The words felt alien next to each other. I’d never hear his voice again. Never see his smile.

‘I promise…’ I whispered. ‘Ali…I promise you…I’ll kill Righello…I’ll avenge you…’

I balled my fists so tight that my nails began to break through the skin on my palms.

I thought, for a moment, about what would happen if I let the Power loose. Yes, Maltor and I had promised to never use it. It was too dangerous. But what if?

It didn’t matter what situation I was in. It didn’t matter where I was. Who I was fighting. The Power would allow me to win. It was a free victory card.

If I had used it when the Eiffel Tower had collapsed…Ali wouldn’t have died. Nobody other than him would’ve seen. I would’ve been hidden by the storm of dust.

No. Everyone would’ve found out. The Power wasn’t something that could just be hidden. Even if they didn’t see it while it was active, the effects and leftovers would have been visible to all.

What would happen if I used it against Maltor? Surely, he would activate his in return. It would be mine against his. Who would win?

Part of me believed that I would win. If we both activated our most powerful weapons, I would come out victorious. Or would I?

Mine was more dangerous. More unpredictable. But it was stronger. I would win. There was no way that if we both used our Powers he would win.

My body slackened. I stopped balling my fists.

I had to stop thinking about that. I would not, under any circumstance, use my Power. I had promised that I would not. It was far too dangerous.

Roaring with frustration, I spun around and swung my fist into the tree behind me as hard as I could. Instantly, blood began to slowly trickle from my knuckles down my fingers.

‘I’ll make him pay…’ I snarled. ‘I mean it this time…I’m gonna kill them…all of them…’

My body was trembling with a peculiar mix of rage and grief. I was unsure as to which of the two feelings was actually stronger.

Ali’s final words rang through my head. ‘Albert! Be careful!’ He had been wounded, and greatly at that. A great big chest wound. And he still screamed at me to be careful as the Eiffel Tower came crashing down.

A horrible feeling rose in my chest. Was it the urge to cry? It felt strangely familiar. I was certain that tears were supposed to follow this feeling. But I had to stop myself. I didn’t cry. I didn’t have the right to do that.

I clenched my jaw so tightly that it hurt. Why was I hurting? Why was that feeling in my chest not going away? I was the Albert Santrrer. I shouldn’t have been hurting.

I prayed to the Gods that the forces in France could at least hold their positions. We had to make them fall. This seemed strangely personal now.

It was them or us, right? If I didn’t feel such a strong desire to kill them, then they would kill me and everyone I loved.

Why was it so hard? Why was it so cruel?

I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t stabbed Maltor when he had betrayed us. What if I hadn’t listened to the voice? What if I had talked it all through with him? Would anything be different?

Ali…he was dead.

I roared with anger and swung my fist into the tree again. Why was it so hard? One minute I was calm, and the next I wanted to tear everything away. Strike it all down. I could be thinking about how things could be different only to remember that Ali was dead a second later.

My fists repeatedly flew into the side of the tree. The skin quickly peeled away, leaving them red and bleeding.

I was so unbelievably frustrated. Why couldn’t it have been me? What would have happened if I had been hit by the debris? Would it be better? At the very least, Ali wouldn’t have been dead.

In the grand scheme of good and evil, perhaps it would have been better. I was a far worse person than Ali. The world would have more balance between the two forces if he had lived.

I sank to my knees, hammering the tree slowly as I descended. It was far too much to bear. Or, it felt like it was far too much to bear.

All I wanted was for it all to be over.

What would it be like if it had never started? What if I was still living with Rob? I would be happily returning home every day after a great day at school.

I took a deep breath. No good would come from letting my emotions get the best of me. I was stronger than that. I was better.

The past was the past. There was nothing that anybody could do to change it. My parents, Grandad, Henry, Jeremy, Ali…they were all dead. Forever. No coming back. No matter how much it hurt. We all had to live with it.

Just for a moment, I remembered how happy Ali always seemed to become whenever I referred to him as my friend. Like it meant the world to him. All he had ever wanted was to feel as though he belonged, and that’s the feeling that we had given him.

I bit my lip. Out of everything I’d had to do in my life, saying goodbye seemed to be the hardest.