Sleeping for a full day, while the height of hedonistic luxury and unthinkable in the majority of Max's past runs --especially when taken in a sinfully lush and soft bed-- did have a disruptive way of throwing off a responsibly curated sleep schedule.

After sleeping the day away and having nothing but a pissy vampire's weird and confusing declarations of intent to show for it, Max was awake during the quiet stillness of the early morning or late night. Technically, it was those few liminal hours that the day existed as both-- late night for those who couldn’t sleep so they were punished to see such darkness; early morning for the few unlucky ones who had to interrupt the sleep they had to make it to commuter trains or busses to get where they were going before their bosses had to acknowledge they existed.

It wasn't a big problem for him; there was always something Max could do to fill time in the darkened hours of the night. Always plans to be made, The Plan™️ to be altered, blueprints to draft, and voice chats in which to argue with a spider about how to properly install defensive walls around a neighborhood without said walls being obvious to the untrained eye that they were defensive structures.

Gathered silently around the dining table and gesturing while never opening mouths, or however it was that Miles talked, they argued and cajoled each other, gesticulated wildly or waved calmingly, and then when one made a good point that factored in a scenario the other did not, one effortlessly conceded to the other's point in favor of what would work better, tipping a blue wing or golden leg in agreement. The two negotiated the best plans they could.

It was in the middle of discussing whether to branch out operations in the nearby buildings and what the operations would be that they noticed the small, sad whimpers coming from a bedroom that hadn't been claimed by anyone in the House. Pained gasps that sounded like they were being held back; a child’s cries that would have been louder if the one making them wasn't trying to hide them.

It was not ever something that Max or Miles wanted to hear -- especially in the middle of the night-- because they both had agreed the children were safe. No one could hurt them here, right? It was a nightmare if someone could slip in, unseen by the best wards the two of them could make, past all the defenses they had been piling, piling, piling up, stacking one atop the other, ever more and more secure, and more worrying, that whoever did it, did it often enough that whoever they were hurting knew to stay quiet about it.

Max grabbed the wards around the apartment. He first checked the kids, his kids, the kids that he had promised would be safe, and saw two were sleeping in the room that three usually slept in.

One was missing. It was weird. It was shocking. It pissed him off.

"Flower?" He called down a long hallway.

The wards over the room the noise came from, when checked, tasted small amounts of blood on the air, coupled with tears and a faint tang of Flower's terror. Heard the sounds of his gasps. Of a boy crying, breathing words of apology. His begging breaths.

Max and Miles, both independently and simultaneously, decided that asking for forgiveness for intruding on what Flower was trying to keep hidden was better than letting the boy suffer. They had, after all, promised that he would be safe here from anything. Even himself -- said the fine print.

They broke the door and charged in.

"Ah, shit."

Flower was disheveled, kneeling on the floor, head tilted down to hide his throat. He had scratches on his cheeks, his neck, and his arms, and a busted lip. One of his eyes was swelling shut. He was silently crying, holding his arms over his head, and moving his lips to beg someone to stop. Apologizing.

The Pup followed them in, fire in his eyes and a decent half-shifted form. Beasty hovered in the hallway shadows, a tightly-controlled fireball in her palm shedding a threatening glow on the walls. The dark elves were in the corners of the room, knives drawn, lips pulled back to flash all threats their pointed incisors. A mouse, or someone who could pass as one to the uninformed eye, was present under a chair.

Taken without the other warning signs in the room, it would look like Flower was abusing himself in a fit of sadness, or he was suffering from an epileptic fit, or having a mental break that urged him to harm himself. He didn't acknowledge the others had entered the room; his eyes focused on the air immediately in front of his face.

Max, in his head, could hear the cries of unknowing or negligent parents from other worlds echoing out -- "My child is possessed!" or, "My child is attention-seeking!" or, "My child is sick!"

But that was not acknowledging the freezing temperature of the room making their heavy breaths turn to mist, the feeling of wrongness, the flickering lights, the freezing breeze, or the miasma of dark mana leaking out of the boy that was being absorbed by something unseen. Not seeing that all his wounds, some appearing before their eyes, were all defensive.

Fucking hells, I hate ghosts. Can't die and stay dead so they gotta shit on everyone's day.

With a quick shift to a different body, a smaller body that oozed darkness, Max could see the two ex-people hovering over Flower, cussing at him and doing their incorporeal best to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.

“Fucks sake, Flower! Why didn’t you say something!” Max cast a quick and dirty spirit ward around him, rushed to land on her knees at his side, and, after cussing and searching her system storage and finding what she needed, slammed a bronze circle etched with a quickly drawn rune on his sternum. The medallion began siphoning the dark magic the boy was spilling out into the room. The ghosts, being caught by someone they weren't expecting and not being able to cross the circle (and not being able to empower themselves with their victim's own mana), quickly fled.

Fuckers always come back, though. Sigh.

Flower lost all ability to hold himself up and collapsed to the floor. His tear-streaked eyes opened and he croaked, ”Max?”

”Of course it’s Max! The fuck, dude?” Her arms, because she was a she now, went around the boy, lifted him into her sitting lap, and began rocking him. Healing spells flowed from her to him, easing his hurts, and mending his bruises. Her smaller body was a bad fit for coddling the growing boy, but she did the best she could to offer comfort from what would have been a terrifying experience for anyone, kid or adult.

He gasped, “They said I had to do it to save the world. They said that if I kept on growing my mana well, I’d bring a dark age. They said that you and Merrick and Emma would be happy when I died. They said I was a monster. They said you couldn't save me.”

Puppy, still holding half form and still looking for something to fight, yelled, "What was that?!"

"We seem to have a ghost problem," Max answered. She stopped squeezing Flower and cleared his face of hair that was stuck to his sweaty forehead. "Who are they?” She asked gently.

A shuttered breath. A whisper. ”The pack witch and the old Seer.”

Puppy cussed and broke the pieces of the already broken door. Threw them against the wall and fully shifted.

”Well, kid, they are full of shit. We'd never, ever let you go.” Max sighed. “When did this start, Flower? How long has it been this bad?”

He looked at his hands and then put them over his eyes, holding his palms in his sockets. ”The seer showed up the night you healed me. When you found the curse." Max and Puppy cussed. Flower continued, "The witch showed up a week ago? The seer only yells at me, but the witch is the one who hits me.” He rushed the last out, “The scratches are usually gone by morning. It’s not that bad.” Max and Puppy cussed again.

”Why didn’t you tell me? Puppy? Miles? Anyone?” Max asked. Her heart broke apart for this kid. She knew why. She just had to hear it.

”At first I didn’t believe them, but what if they’re right?" He sat up and yelled, "They kept wanting to collar me for a reason! What if I do hurt you guys? What if I am a monster?” He wept, “Sometimes, my mana slips out. I can't control it! They said... they said if I was scared enough of it, I'd never reach for it. It was my way of protecting you.” He sobbed.

"Okay. It's gonna be okay, Flower." She pulled him into her lap again. Rocked the little broken boy who was scared of everything, but especially himself. "Beasty, Puppy, and Miles, can we have the room? I think the elves need to stay. They need to hear this too. I'll fill everyone in in the morning. I promise. No secrets, okay?"

Puppy growled a pissed-off growl, and ran out of the room toward the outer demesne, roaring and tearing up the flooring. Beasty nodded, looked at Miles and then back at Max holding the broken Flower, and slowly walked back to her room. Miles looked at her in question but also left.

Max hugged the kid within an inch of his life and then put him back on the floor after he had calmed, directly in front of her. She moved his hair off his face again. ”Oh, honey… you aren’t a monster. You’re a sweet boy with a lot of love, who would do anything for his family," she said, "who just happens to have pure black mana. Those old, dead cunts don’t know shit about shit, sweetness. The color of your natural mana doesn’t make you a monster." She held a palm to his cheek and looked into his eyes with all the love she could. "Being beaten while being told you’re a monster and not knowing what to do about it until you snap is what makes monsters. You can learn to be everything someone with pure light mana can. It’ll be harder for you, and you need absolute control, but this isn’t bad.”

“Are you sure? Sometimes, I can't...” He started breathing heavily again.

Max nodded. “We can keep the medallion on for now. It'll absorb passive mana that you leak." She glanced at the elves, now, too. Ignored the mouse. "Learning to be a dark mage is hard. You will need to have all the patience you can gather. You will need to contain your temper. You will take longer to learn basic magic casting because you have to control your mana like it’s a caged beast. Once applied to anything beyond a cantrip, it gets a mind of its own. It becomes emboldened by your darker impulses. The first step is to contain it. You master yourself and it takes the power away from it."

She looked at the elves, who were raptly paying attention, and then back at the boy. "You will be different than the other kids. Some might think you’re bad, like those two bitches. If others figure out why you’re different, they may be scared of you. Remember this though: People are stupid." She put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it, and let it go. He teared up again, his face cracking, but held the sobs in.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

She continued, "So, you have to take the long way to mastery. But! The prize for the struggle is when you have mastered it and yourself, you’ll be stronger than anyone in this world has been since some assholes blew it up ages ago. The pack wanted you collared and enslaved because you would have been impossible to control if you were free.”

"Is there another option? Do I have to… be this?" He wiped his cheeks with a sleeve and looked at her, his face raw with hope.

"We rip out your well and channels. Your raven will probably be lost. That old monster who cursed you will get her wish." She reached out for his hand and held it. "I will not do it. It would kill a piece of you and you would feel an emptiness in your soul for the rest of your long, long life. Don't ask me to mutilate you, Thomas. You are too precious to me. It would kill a piece of me too, and I don't have a lot left." Tears ran down her bone-white cheeks.

"What if..." he started, and she cut him off.

"I would never. You agreed when you joined my pack that I would protect you. I'm protecting you now. We will teach you how to control this. You will be taught every night until you are in absolute control, and you will wear a limiter until you feel safe. We will beat this, just like we beat the vampire, just like we beat the shit Pack, just like you beat Puppy's monster morning breath every day. We will get through this, you just have to trust me."

"Is it a [Bargain]? Can I [Bargain] with you?" Flower asked with a straight but puffy face like he was a career kin and Max was a novice.

"Of course. What are the terms?"

"I will train and become a master of dark mana. And I won't ask you to break my mana well. I will work hard until I am capable of not losing control. In exchange, you will talk to Mister Green and ask if he has any other black mana users in his court and if they can learn with me. I was alone and outside of pack safety before and I don't want to be an outsider again. If the others are going to think I'm evil, I want to be with people who are like me."

"They are like you." Max pointed at the three silent elves in the room.

"So, you know, then." Said Romy, sadly. Her head and shoulders fell. She looked defeated. Max looked at Cyrus and Rigel and they were frowning.

Max threw her hands in the air. "Dude, it wasn't hard to figure out. Of course, I know. Give me a little credit. You guys move in godsdamned shadows. Even poisoned to shit with iron, that's like, baby shadow mage teething spells. You're DARK elves. Come on."

Flower perked up. "Wait! I get to learn how to do the shadow thing, too?"

"Yes? Baby shadow mage spells are like, first-month learning." She sighed and conceded the [Bargain]. It was a good one. She couldn't say no and make him feel ostracized in her House. He was hers. "I'll call him tomorrow. He might not get back to me anytime soon, but I'll ask. The [Bargain] is struck."

***

The next morning, while Flower and the elves were still sleeping, Max sat around the dining room table and explained what had happened and what would happen as a result.

"He's just got black mana? That’s it?" Beasty took it rather well. She wanted the details of what Flower was facing and wanted to know if she could help in any way.

"Yeah."

"What's that mean, though? Long-term."

"It means, his mana is more powerful than anyone else's. It means he needs more specialized training. Protection from any nasties that want to piggyback on what his mana naturally does. It means that everyone outside of our pack will look at him like he's a monster." Puppy opened his mouth to undoubtedly say something so fucking stupid that she would have a hard time forgiving him. "He is not a godsdamned monster, so don't fucking ask if he is. He's our Flower. He's the same as he's ever been. He's the boy who let ghosts scream at him that he was worthless to us and then beat him every night for a fucking month and didn't say a word because he thought he was saving us."

They had both recoiled from her. Miles was in the middle of the table between her and the kids. He had been there the whole time, not saying anything.

Beasty took a deep breath. "Max, in that body, when you get riled up, your eyes do scary shit."

She sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just... do you want to know a secret? You'll understand my frustration once you understand why I'm 'riled up'." They stopped recoiling and leaned back toward her. "Black mana is super powerful. Its holders start at Archmage power levels once they learn how to control it. World-rending abilities. All of the cosmic heroes-- heroes that can open portals and hop to different worlds-- all of those I've ever seen have started as dark mages. Now, understanding that, I'll tell you the greatest secret they have."

Beasty bounced in her chair and clapped her hands. "Oh! Tell us!"

"Baseline, raw black mana is the only color of mana that cannot kill. It can't take a life. Black and dark mages have to train so hard because their natural mana is harmless to life. Eventually, they can learn workarounds or bastardize other mana flavors. But baseline black can't kill."

Puppy looked confused. "What?"

"It is the provenance of death. Not dying. Not sickness-- that's mostly just little life forms interacting with immune systems. Not curses or harm or anything like that. It's not evil. Black mana is, in its barest form, of death-- as in, already dead-- death, night, rest, sleep, and of reset. Endings, but not the journey to the end. It's being home and getting into your bed after a long trip. Black mana can't take a life. Life is its opposite."

"So, white mana is evil?"

"Pure white? Shit yeah, it is. But not because it causes evil because of it being evil, but the ones who usually have it are stuck-up assholes because they are convinced by everyone else or themselves that they -- no matter what fucked up shit they think-- are 'blessed' or ‘pure’ and always think their religion or nation or whatever is right and it always, always, always ends up causing them to start holy wars to prove their asinine fucking points. Always. One hundred percent of the time. Every godsdamned time, I swear."

Beasty muttered. "But... mine's white?"

Max laid her elbows down on the table and laid her face on a fist. The other hand made a 'show me' motion. "Let me see it, Beasty."

She curled her hand and had a ball of blindingly white mana light in her palm.

Max snorted. "Well, I'll be damned to into a lower hell. Seriously, Beasty?"

"Yeah."

Max poked the girl in the arm. "You gonna lead a holy war anytime soon? Gonna start a religion?"

Beasty grinned. "Even though I know you and I know what you and Miles haven't told us, I'm an atheist."

One of Max's eyebrows raised and she grinned. Chuckled. "Good Beasty. All joking aside, no matter the shade you're born with, you're just a person. Everyone is just a person. People with white mana can go either way. People with black mana can go either way. Mana doesn't make a person good or bad. A good or bad person just has mana as a tool. It’s the choices they make and what they do with their tools that define them. Never forget that, okay?"

"Okay."

Puppy interrupted a rare bonding moment between the two. "Mine's just plain old gray."

Max gave the young man a bitter grin and said, "You can already eat the world, dude. You don't need the threat of mana. You are the threat."

His shoulders slumped. "I know. I just wanted to feel included."

"What about you Miles? What color is yours?" Beasty looked at the beautiful golden spider, who was silently perched on the table. He hadn't said anything since Max had come in. She wondered if she had hurt his feelings last night when she asked him to leave.

She didn't want to make it awkward, but she sometimes felt that the kids assumed Miles was a bit too lawful good to see in shades of gray. She didn't want to make it awkward for Flower because it was already rough enough. Flower having to talk about his lack of control to the self-contained, always competent spider would have been hard.

"Mine is golden. Like my carapace." He twirled a spindly leg and produced a hovering golden light. If observed closely, it looked like a web of fireflies.

"Oooh." All three flesh bags at the table legitimately cooed at him. Beasty clapped her hands. Max looked at Miles and his mana light with stars in her eyes.

"Dang, you're so pretty. Just… beautiful."

Miles sighed. "I know."

Max's eyes cleared. She sat up straight. "So, everyone is good? We are all cool with Flower and we won't treat him any different, right? We make sure that the ghosts and any other shit that looks his way, stay away? We protect our pack until the world stops and the stars die, right?"

"Pfft. Like you even have to ask. I've been doing it for years before any shiny metal man and his spooky-assed half-pint sidekick showed up." Beasty said.

"Still taller than you, Beasty!"

She and Beasty looked over at Puppy. He answered, “Of course. It's just new, is all. All is alright, Max."

Her eyes found eight gems set in gold. "Of course, Max," Miles said. "What color is your mana? Does it change with every different body, or is it all the same color every time?"

Max laughed. "Oh, you caught that, huh? I thought I had been sneaky enough to go unnoticed." She lifted her hand and cast a mana light. It had a kaleidoscope of colors in it. "Since I chose the hax class back in the cave, I've discovered that I have all the colors I ever have had. The different Max bodies just give me specific buffs to casting. I'm always and have always been just--- Max. Me. My mana is just a reflection of that. Just the tool I use to do what jobs I need to."

Beasty slammed her gaping mouth closed. Puppy didn't. Miles just stared at it.

"It's shit like that that made me know what you don't tell us, by the way," Beasty muttered. “That, and the elves run their mouths when they think I’m not listening.”

Max smiled at her. "If it makes you feel any better, I’ll tell you another secret— when I started in the very first Max body, I was a pure white, too. Another secret no one tells you is you aren't locked into your base mana color. You can truly be anything and do anything if you live long enough. Living is growing, and all that jazz." She jazz-handsed.

Beasty snickered. "Did you start any religions and cause holy wars?"

Max's smile slowly fell and her eyes grew far away. "Yeah. Turns out, I was always wrong, though. Every time." She shrugged and her face cleared. "As I said, mana color doesn't make you special. That applies especially to me."

***

Later, she talked with Miles to make sure everything was okay. It was sitting heavy in her chest that she had hurt his feelings and she hated it.

"Do you know why I asked you to leave last night?"

"You thought I was too naive to handle a minor upheaval in our family."

"Maybe a little, but it wasn't really about you at all."

"What do you mean?"

Max sighed and sat down. They were in her forge and she had to call him in here. He had been avoiding her for hours. "The kids see you as a father figure. I am a messed up chaos goblin kind of mother figure. I am messy and emotional. You are the stability and strength of our family." She sighed again. "Admitting to something he saw as shameful in front of you would be like admitting that he sometimes loses control and shits his pants or something just as horrifying to his dad. A dad he respects and aspires to be like. Moms usually take care of the bodily liquid issues and other embarrassing stuff, you know?"

'...' Miles was quiet for a minute and said, "That's indescribably gross, Max. I'd think you were making this up to make me feel better, but I can see the reasoning behind it."

"It's not that I thought you couldn't handle it, it's that he was on the edge of begging me to maim him, and if he thought you judged him --whether you did or not-- he would have insisted. I couldn't let him read into it. I had to be delicate."

"I can be delicate."

"I know, but he needs you to be the stable strength that I can't be. I can be there for them to fall apart. You and I together put them back together." She also added so he would really understand, "Falling apart is one thing. Being seen while you're in pieces is embarrassing. It's why I used to cry alone so much."

"I thought it was just a you thing."

"It wasn't. It's kinda universal for the fleshed."

"Ah. Okay. But I'm still the heroic, stoic father figure that is the glue, right?"

"Yes. I'm not even joking a little bit about it, even though you are.”

Miles stirred his little body, jolting in surprise, and then fidgeted in awkwardness. He raised a little leg and said, “Have my babies, Max.”

”Okay. Um. Biologically? I think I have a spider form? It might be too big but we can make it work… do you want…” Max quickly took off her shoes and moved her hands to the button of her pants.

”NO. No. Ew. Gross. Stop!” Miles ran off of the workbench and hid underneath it. “I am a golem, you maniac. I will never and can never shoot any genetic material ..” he gagged, “at you.”

”Ah, dang. I was gonna rock your world, metal man.” Max refastened her pants. “So, you want more kids, huh? The six we already have aren’t enough?”

“The girl and boy are exceeding expectations. I wouldn't classify the elves as ours, though. So, I would like more, yes.”

”Okay.” Max sighed. Holy fuckstick of a flag. An AI wanting to create life. Classic. “I’ll think about it. I don’t think I’m mentally fit to begin swarming the world with a flood of my progeny yet, but… if it’s something you want, I’ll try to get there. Just give me time, okay?”

”I didn’t mean immediately. We just, in the scheme of things, got here. I just wanted to let you know that it’s something I’d like in the future.”

”Can do, bossman. Future, like, a hundred years? Future, as in three months? What am I looking at?”

”Honestly, I’m surprised we made it this far in the conversation without you having a flashback. So, in your own time, I guess.”

”Neat. And you're sure you don’t want me to sprout a thorax and take you to pound town?”

Gagging. Heaving. Sputtering. Choking. Max wasn’t sure golems could even puke? They didn’t eat. How was his gold paling?