He lit the fire first of all. It burned slowly, lazily, its crackling filling the surrounding area. He wasn't sure how long he would spend here – But if the sun were to set while he got everything ready, it would leave him in a tricky situation. He then begun moving them – First the blonde, who looked the youngest. Next, the brunette of a somewhat similar age. Third, the young adult with fox-like features. And finally, the eldest man with the most severe wounds. He wasn't really sure how to approach this situation – It did not mean he wouldn't try. He spent what seemed like hours wrapping bandages, pouring out potions and gathering more between each pause. As he had predicted, the sun began to move away, and soon, these woods would fill with hellish creatures.

The man didn't waste any time – He put down whatever remained of his supplies and quickly scribbled a note on a spare piece of paper. For a moment he hesitated, looking over the faces of two of the strangers. He did not speak. He did not wait any longer. He knew, deep in his heart, that whatever he may feel when looking at them they would not return. To them he was a shade, a creature from the woods, an unknown entity, a bogeyman. It would be best if he left now, while they were still away in another world, a world where they did not have to worry about the cold of the night or the danger of the forest. It would be best if they never even saw his face.

He left them at the fire all alone.

The first to wake up was Fonda. An intense pain in his jaw, dry blood on his lips and a lack of feeling in one of his legs he still prioritized others above all – And instantly crawled his way over to his father. He shook him for a moment, his own hands trembling. He didn't even question the campfire that he woke up next to, he didn't question how he was out of the final authority room. All he really cared about was making sure his father was still alright, with how many close calls he had suffered in this past year alone. He looked over to the side and spotted a small pile of supplies, most of them either used up or opened. He inched closer and read the text on the small note left by it;

There is no instance of a nation benefiting from prolonged warfare.

- 'The Blade'

Fonda grabbed onto some bandages and started replacing the ones already on his father's body, drenched in his blood. Someone saved them – Or, tried to. There was no telling who here would make it out alive, because right now, the president's son was the only one showing signs of life. About half way through his sloppy work, which was only made worse by the tears welling up in his eyes and how much he was trembling from panic, he felt the man before him shift slightly, seeing as he muttered something under his breath as his eyes slowly opened. Instantly, Fonda wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pressing his face into his shirt. The amount of relief he felt seeing his father awake once more could not be described, and Will seemed to understand. He put his hand on his head and pulled him closer, whispering something into his ear.

"I thought- I thought we were done for-", Fonda muttered, his voice shaky and crawling with panic.

"How did we- How did we get here? Where are we? Why-". Will cut him off, pulling him closer and putting his hand on his back reassuringly.

"Calm down.", he whispered.

"I'm alive, okay? We need to check on Tom and Taza. Nothing else matters right now. We need to make sure everyone is okay."

Fonda nodded for a moment and shifted away, putting his focus on the brunette fourteen year old.

Turning to Tom, Will began going through the many medical supplies The Blade had left them. Whoever that man was he seemed to grow quite fond of the revolutionaries – This wasn't the first time he had supported them this way, with him slipping that tiny Statue into Will's hand after the explosion. Still, the president carried on without thinking about it too much. If there was one thing he was good at it was keeping his focus on the task at hand – It was something he had to learn back when his dreams were more invasive than ever and he had a child to take care of. He figured he did quite well, raising Fonda in the state he was in – But sometimes, looking at him he felt as though he may have made some mistakes. Maybe that was why he was so fond of Tom – Maybe he just saw him as a second chance. He looked at the boy's face for a moment.

And looking down at his bloodied face, he could only imagine the dream he was lost in.

He's running.

He's always running through that desert, the stranger is always chasing him. It has been this way for weeks now, losing sleep over this repeated nightmare. Nothing ever changed, nothing ever got better, nothing ever seemed close to improving. All that there was was the pain in his lungs as he struggled to breathe, the helplessness as he fell and the horror as the blade moved towards his chest for the final, deadly strike. He wouldn't tell this to anyone, of course – But that nightmare had been the same each and every night, keeping him from getting a restful sleep for almost half a year now. But why would he say anything? It wouldn't change the single true fact.

And the fact was this – At the hands of the stranger with the crown, Tom always died.

He woke up with a gasp, breathing heavily and coated in cold sweat as always. This time things were different, though – This time, he never expected to wake up in the first place. When he was thrown to the ground, when his head hit the dark bricks that covered it, he thought he was a goner. As his world spun in circles and his stomach twisted in a knot, he thought this was it for sure, this was the night he finally kicked the bucket and lost any chance at ever figuring those nightmares out. And maybe it was the night he finally freed himself from those confusing memories. But no, he just had to wake up, he just had to carry on. Because someone out there wanted him to live, someone out there wanted him and Will to piece this mystery together, and those other two strangers from his dreams he was yet to meet were waiting to be found. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and tried to keep all questions at bay as he watched the scene around him – An incredibly depressing scene, at that. Fonda, Will and Taza all sat in silence, staring into the flames before them.

"...Why did he do it?", Taza whispered at some point, cutting short the silence the four had been trapped in for hours now.

No questions about The Blade and why he saved them, no questions about the Final Authority Room, no questions about anything. Just deafening silence that the teenager thought was too much to handle. Maybe it was good, though. They had all refused to discuss what had gone down, but they had to eventually. Getting it out of the way was better than sitting there and wallowing in their helplessness, right? At least, the president hoped so.

"I don't know, Taza."

Will wrapped his hands around his knees, curling up as he tried to find a comfortable way to sit. With how every part of his body ached, it was near impossible. Tom's head was resting on his shoulder, the boy having crawled up close to him after suffering a nightmare. Fonda was on his other side, leaning on him and aimlessly watching the stars in the sky. He was the only one not looking into the fire, as the others had been for a while now.

"...I trained with him for hours.", Taza continued speaking, his voice cracking and his eyes filling with tears.

"He taught me how to block with a sword. He was so nice to me... why would he..."

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"It's obvious, Taza. He was a greedy piece of shit.", Fonda cut in, his eyes still set on the stars.

"The way he looked at that statue. The way he glanced at us like we were nothing but bounties"

"Errett isn't like that!", Tom screamed, suddenly rising from where he sat.

"Dissonance probably threatened him with something... you know what he's like! He's got something on everyone!"

"Fonda's right, Tom", Will whispered under his breath.

"The way Errett looked at us didn't show any ounce of guilt or regret. He just wants power - I guess we took too long to notice."

"...So what are we gonna do now?", Taza continued with his questions.

He was always the one asking questions, always looking for guidance from others. Will would have snapped back at him if he weren't too tired too - The frustration of that day was already weighing on him.

"I.... I don't know."

For a moment, Will glanced at the note that The Blade had left them - It was hastily scribbled on a torn piece of paper. The man clearly wanted them to see whatever he said.

"But The Blade seems to be suggesting something... and I think I understand."

"Well stop keeping us in suspense, Willz!"

Tom shot up.

"Because honestly, I have no idea how that little quote from some random guy with a sword in the woods is supposed to win us a war!"

"...That's the point, Tom."

Will sighed.

"He doesn't want us to fight any more. It's as this quote says.... if we keep fighting we will only cause ourselves and others more pain."

"We're not gonna give up, are we?", Fonda asked.

"Not after all we've been through! What was the point if we're just gonna... let it all go to waste?"

Fonda's ears flopped down.

"...We can't fight any more. We're too weak. We have no choice, Fonda."

Will sighed.

"They took our weapons, our armour... the best thing we can do is put up white flags."

"...Willz, no-", Tom tried to speak, but was soon interrupted by the president.

"Tom, we can't keep rushing into battle-"

Tom yelled at him;

"At least try! Try to do... something!", he begged.

"Please..."

"I'll..."

Will bit his lip.

"I'll try to negotiate. Maybe we'll get... something."

"When?"

Taza shifted closer, hope filling his eyes.

"Tomorrow at dawn.", Will responded, looking down.

"We will walk into Lasenberg at dawn."

Errett was king of kings.

He spun around Lasenberg imagining a long cloak flowing on his back, he could already feel the crown being placed on his head. It was all he ever wanted - Why revolt, why fight, why suffer for something he never truly believed in when he could have it all for a simple deal? Tomorrow at dawn he would be crowned king of the city - All would fall to their knees before him, he would have more riches and more treasures to ever need in a lifetime. Some would say he was crazy, giving up trust and friendships in exchange for power. But Errett had a trait to him – Errett had an addiction. As long as Errett was above people, he was happy. As long as Errett ruled, he was comfortable. As long as Errett was in possession of everything great and glimmering, he could smile in peace.

King Errett. It had a lovely ring to it, did it not? Dissonance promised him power over the city, he promised him a castle, he promised him a crown, jewels, paintings, gold- He couldn't wait! All he had to do was lead the revolutionaries into that small room – Not a big deal, right? Whatever Dissonance's group did after that wasn't his fault. He wasn't the one who killed them, he wasn't the one who left them out in the cold with fatal wounds... admittedly, he did feel a bit bad about it. But he didn't force those four people to trust him. He didn't force them to follow him. He simply did what he had to do to get what he wanted, he was sure they would understand. If they were alive, that is. No one had really gone out to check since The Blade decided to show himself in the area.

But King Errett did not care. Because in his head King Errett felt the velvet cloak fall on his shoulders, when he grasped a stick and imagined it to be his sceptre, and when he touched his head he could almost feel the crown being placed upon it. Why have friends, why have trust, why have anything like that when you could have so much power? His eyes gleamed as he thought of all ahead of him – His castle, his throne room, his golden statues and gorgeous gardens. He giggled to himself as he fell asleep that night. Indeed, King Errett felt no regret.

Because King Errett was king of kings, and kings have no regrets.

Dissonance had gone too far. Georgie knew. But he kept telling himself it was not his friend that did it.

On the list of most evil things a person could do, turning friends against each other and exploiting a man with clear personal problems was pretty high up there. And by using Errett as an inside weapon, of course, Dissonance had done both. Not many actually knew the state Errett arrived in the city all that time ago, since he was one of the first arrivals. Georgie remembered all too well. He stumbled in, started searching through their home and picked out anything that looked expensive. Some arguing, fighting, and a calming potion later, it wasn't hard to see what Errett's problem was – Wherever he came from, whoever or... whatever, considering his eyes, he had an uncontrollable need for power and material possessions. To Georgie, the truth was clear.

Errett was a megalomaniac.

But did that mean they would turn him away? No. That wasn't how things worked back then. They helped him, they tried to support him as he worked through it all. They didn't ask about where he came from, what could have happened to him to make him crave absolute power to this degree. They didn't ask why his eyes were so blank and had that strange glow. They simply helped Errett deal with his... condition... and eventually, he became an average citizen like any other. Only Georgie, Sapana, and of course, Dissonance, knew of the man's past and how he used to be, knowing that, if ever offered such absolute power, he could fall right back into his old habits. So why, why did Dissonance make this happen, when he knew how much Errett hated himself when he was lost like that?

He offered him the title of King. He offered him a crown. He offered him a castle, jewels, gold bars, statues, he offered him everything, knowing damn well how he would react, knowing exactly how he would lose himself the moment those things were even said to him. Dissonance knew Errett would regret it all, Dissonance knew he would eventually find himself, but Dissonance would win this war in ways that were far worse than just fighting fair. And it made him wonder – If he was so quick to destroy the friendships of strangers, would he not be just as eager to destroy their own bond? Georgie didn't want to think about it too much – After all, Dissonance was his friend, right? He kept trying to convince himself of that...

But with each day, it became harder to believe.

The desert is filled with blood and screams.

Fires burn, people run, and above it all, a single man stands. A single man that calls the shots, a single man that brought along this slaughter. This would not be the last time he did something like this, this would not be the last time he raised his sword up high and took another life. This was the average – This was the norm. But is he satisfied with it? This is a difficult question to answer. People often tend to lose themselves when they have power.

He sees a young boy. He gives chase. Why wouldn't he? The boy trips on some sand and falls back. He raises his sword. He sees his fear, his helplessness. He can see his tears. His long hair sways in the wind. His blade slams down, and before it meets the boy's chest and ends his life, he wakes. He always wakes before the boy dies.

The Blade awoke in cold sweat.

For a moment he looked around, seeing shadows cast by the fire he lit dance on the dark walls of the cave he rested in. He rubbed his eyes for a moment, knowing the feelings from these nightmares would take a while to fade. To others it would be fear, but to him, it simply seemed to be guilt. He grabbed onto a water bottle he kept nearby and chugged some of it, trying to calm his breathing. He'd been through worse. He'd survived worse. Waking up in the middle of the night was the norm at this point, barely ever getting any sleep.

The Blade lay down, turned to the side, and tried to get more sleep, pushing his dream away.

And somewhere else in the forest, a young boy tried to do the same.