Wen knelt on the ground, holding the black cylinder containing her rifle rounds close to her chest as she focused on her gate. She opened it wide as the temperature around her dropped, and rivulets of condensation dripped from her hands onto the floor. A chill winter wind flowed through her body constantly as she focused the essence of cold into her hands.

She had to have the bullets specially made. They were crystal-tipped projectiles that would take on the cold and store it for a time. However, her real problem was her reliance on the tools. She didn't encounter the problem often but knew it was there.

If an opponent took her by surprise, or if she ran out of ammunition, she had cold hands. While she could freeze an opponent, that took time to build up. It was why she had to sit with the cylinder every night and force it to be cold for over an hour.

However, there was little she could do to change it. Her tools were what made her power possible to use in a fight. Even Miss Brooke had required her to hide for a few minutes to build up enough of a cold ball to have any real effect. That kind of time just wasn't normally possible in a fight.

She set the cylinder on the floor, her hands shaking from the pressure and the cold. Little bits of frost formed across her fingernails as she looked down at them. Why couldn't she have gotten a curse like the others when she first came to nightsea? Magnetism had so many applications. If she were Alex, she could use his power with her sharpshooting skills to accelerate bullets to an excessive degree or curve shots to hit hard-to-hit targets. Sayed's heat could allow her to shoot shots that melted through targets and could beat through armor. Admittedly, she couldn't think of similar applications for Erin or Jean's curse, but there had to be something.

Her cold just took too long. That was the problem.

Thump.

Jean had approached when she wasn't paying attention, and she turned to see him sitting down on the floor with his back to the hut's wall. She quickly hid her cylinder, tucking it beneath her coat and letting her hands start to warm.

"You're still awake," his voice was a whisper, but he didn't need to bother.

Erin and Sayed still hadn't gone to bed in the hut they shared for the night. Mari was still with Erin, and Wen had decided to go to the room alone. It was surprising that Jean had come to join her at all. With his nature, she wasn't even sure if he needed to sleep.

"I am," she said, doing her best to ignore the tingling feeling that tickled its way through her fingers. "Did you need me for something?"

Jean sighed, looking toward the door before he said anything.

"You seem to be in turmoil," he said, returning his dark eyes to her own. "I don't think I would be a good compatriot if I didn't lend an ear."

Wen glanced at the cylinder but didn't want to say it. While they had traveled together for a few weeks now, that didn't mean she completely trusted Jean. Aside from his appearance, there was something off about the man and his focus on the 'fates' of others.

"I see some skepticism." Jean chuckled. "But don't mistake me. I'm only here to lend an ear to a person in need."

"You're worried about me," Wen said. "But there's no need. I'm fine. I'm the same I've always been."

"That's where I think you're wrong," Jean said, raising up a skeletal finger. "I can see it in your soul. There is a war within you, and you doubt yourself. That much, at least, is clear to me, though I do not know why."

"A war within my soul?" Wen raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to make it more dramatic than it is?"

"Drama is the spice of life," Jean said with a crooked grin. "But no, it is important to settle these things, and I am here for you if you wish. I will not force you to talk, but I also will not leave."

Wen blinked a few times at him, unsure of what to say. Would he just sit there all night if she didn't say anything? Again, she had to wonder if he needed to sleep at all. She didn't want that hanging over her all night. The only other choice was to give him what he wanted.

"Fine," Wen said, picking up the cylinder. "Do you know what this is?"

"A tool you use with your curse," Jean said. "And it is an interesting crutch in my mind. While your bullets are effective when they hit, it has stunted your curse's growth."

Wen grimaced. Was that an insult? She looked at the cylinder in her hand. Was it a crutch or the only way she could think of to make her curse effective? However, the other question was about what Jean knew about curses.

"What makes you such an expert?" she asked.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

"My curse was originally simple," Jean said. "I could sense a sort of energy and manipulate it into strings. That was the first level of my curse."

Thud.

"There's levels to curses?" Wen dropped the cylinder.

"At least two, as far as I am aware," Jean said. "The way I see you, you are stuck on the first level, and because of your reliance on your tools, you won't ever push yourself to advance."

"I already push myself," Wen said, clenching her fists.

"Do you?" Jean shook his head. "When you faced the water serpent on Dry Turtle and froze it, that was pushing yourself. You came up with an application for your cold and tried it despite the risk to yourself."

Wen had been desperate then. She had time in the middle of the fight, and it allowed her to try something new. Was Jean saying that she had to do that? Instead of relying on her weapons, she had to throw them away and use her curse in a fight. She didn't like it.

"But that's too slow for a fight," she said. "I was lucky with Miss Brooke. She was more focused on breaking the ship than fighting me."

"True," Jean said, raising up his arms in a shrug. "But let me tell you this: My curse was also useless at the beginning. My strings could do little more than help me throw small objects. Spirit String."

He flicked out a finger, and Wen's cylinder flew into his hand. Wen's hand instinctively went for her revolver, but she stopped. Jean was a part of the crew, and he was trying to prove a point, even if it was irritating her.

"Even within the first grade of my curse, it has evolved," Jean said. "I can now manipulate my opponent's bodies if their will is weak. I can create a barrier, and all of that was just part of my path to my second grade."

He threw the cylinder back to Wen, and she caught it. She sat it down behind her so that she was a barrier to any more strings from Jean, but Jean merely smiled.

"I get it," she said. "I don't know what I'll do with it, but thanks for the advice."

"Anytime." Jean laughed, rising and exiting the hut with a small wave. "I'm always interested in seeing people be their best. You have potential, Wen. You just need to use it."

Wen settled back against the enter pole as he left, pulling the cylinder out from behind her and looking at it. Was she truly so weak? Changing herself would require her to reconsider everything. It would change her preparations and how she dealt with opponents. It would be a risk.

She focused on her curse and held the cylinder close to her chest. She would think on Jean's advice.

***

Ikal watched the woman in green as she sat with the strange creature in the firelight. He had never seen anything like the creature before. She smelled unlike anything he had ever smelled before. She didn't smell like a human or a Zoan. He couldn't even begin to describe the scent.

Then there were her eyes, which glowed blue in the night without the aid of any light.

"Neither Zoan nor beast and certainly not one of James's kind," Ikal whispered as he leaned closer to the edge of the hut he hid behind.

"You know we can hear you, right?" the woman in green looked directly at him in his hiding spot, and Ikal quickly jumped backward. "You can come over to talk to us. We won't hurt you."

Ikal stood in the darkness for a while, but he could do nothing. The strange woman had seen him in the darkness despite his efforts. He could run, but she had invited him to talk with them. Perhaps she could answer his questions about the strange creature. Ikal swallowed and slinked out toward the firelight.

"I'm Erin," the woman said before pointing to the strange creature. "This is Mari."

"I am Ikal, son of Rangi." Ikal thumped his fist to his chest once before sitting beside the two.

"So, why were you stalking us, Ikal?" Erin smiled at her, and Ikal's ears burned.

"I was not stalking you," Ikal said, crossing his arms over his chest. I was just curious about you."

"And why's that?" Erin asked.

"She smells weird," Ikal said, pointing one finger at the strange creature the woman had called Mari.

"I do not." The creature slinked away from him, grabbing Erin's waist and hiding its face behind her.

"That kind of opening won't earn you any friends." Erin put her arm around the creature. "It's okay, Mari. I don't think he said it to insult you."

She was acting like the other older girls in the tribe when Ikal approached them. They would all laugh at Ikal when he said something or run away and hide. Ikal looked away from the two of them and out into the forest, putting his hands in his lap as his tail twitched.

"She's an automaton," Erin said. "She helps us navigate our ship, but that's probably what you smell."

"An automaton?" Ikal glanced back at the two of them.

"I don't know if I can explain it to you," Erin said, sighing. "Mainly because I don't know that much about her yet, but that's the best I can do."

"I see," Ikal said.

"What about you?" Erin asked. "I've never seen anything like your people before."

"If I didn't know James, I'd think the same about you," Ikal said under his breath.

"True." Erin laughed. "Normal is what you're used to, I guess. But tell me about your people. Please, the curiosity is killing me."

Ikal tilted his head, unsure of how curiosity could kill someone, but there was no harm in telling her a little about his people. So long as they were guests, it was his duty to give some hospitality to them. So he turned to face her, tapping his chest with one finger as he began.

"We are the Zoan, the first people. Our ancestors came from Paradise, and we have journeyed far and wide across the world. My tribe found this island a hundred years ago when we made our pilgrimage from Paradise."

"Paradise is a very specific word," Erin said, patting Mari's head. "Why would you want to leave it?"

"That is the command of our gods," Ikal said. "We should spread far and wide, and when we leave this world, we return to Paradise to serve with our experiences. We go out into the world to improve so that when we return, we can better serve the gods."

"I see." Erin frowned, but Ikal didn't know why. "And those ruins, that temple, what are they for?"

"They are from when we first came to the island," Ikal said, a tear running down his cheek as he thought of his father. "And they are where our fallen go to serve the gods."

"But why is it abandoned?" Erin asked. "Why don't you all live there?"

"The sickness." Ikal's tail drooped. "The temple is for those who have passed on, not for the living."

He stood up, turning away from the fire and toward the shadows. He didn't like where the stranger's questions were going, and he wasn't going to force himself to stay.

"I'm going."

"Wait!"

It was too late. Ikal ran off into the night, the temple, and his father in the back of his mind.