Dyllan heaved a relaxed sigh. He could feel the vines of energy that entangled the mindscape pulse alongside his heartbeat. They gently tugged on his power, giving him a safe outlet for an urge he’d finally stopped hiding from himself.

Overall, the attack had been far more powerful than he’d expected - but less effective than he’d hoped. The vines that had pierced his Nightmare didn’t leave behind brilliant cracks of white light like the Nightmares Andie had struck with her Courage, instead they ignited small flames on any hate they touched. Small, humble, burning red flames. The same color as his new forcefield.

That had to mean something.

The fire feeding off his Nightmare burned brighter than the rest, maybe that was a clue? It wasn’t important. Analyzing symbolism was Cedric’s wheelhouse, and unlike Andie - whose instincts rivaled most people’s analysis when it came to mindscape stuff - Dyllan’s guesses were just shots in the dark.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

It was better for Dyllan to focus on the power that was no longer flowing through his vines of light. Instead, it stagnated and pooled. It even seemed about ready to burst a leak in some places, and if Dyllan knew himself as well as he thought he did, then he could be sure that any leaks would spray hate. He tried to pull his baseball bat out of the ground, severing its connection to the cracks from which the vines sprang.

It wasn’t working. The gentle tug had turned into a ruthless whirlpool while Dyllan wasn’t paying attention - tearing away at his power to fuel itself. As expected, his Justice was powerful but addicting. It protected good and destroyed evil, it made him feel invincible - no, infallible - and when left untempered by humility and mercy… it became cold, cruel, and destructive.

Deep breaths. Focus. Dyllan needed to focus. Fear, anger, and frustration only fed the addictiveness of Justice. In order to not lose sight of himself when he held his Justice, he needed to have faith in himself when he didn’t. Although he could easily have been consumed by his Justice, he had chosen not to be. That wasn't who he wanted to be, and that wasn't who he was. He had never held true rage, only misunderstood the Rage he did have. He was not a violent person, and now that he knew who he really was, he’d never lose control again.