“Only one returns,” Gerhmaine said, as Jocelyn’s pod slowly opened. Her eyes were stinging from all the black smoke. She felt as if she’d been sitting inside a toxic spore. The acrid vapors filled her nostrils, the back of her throat, and her lungs, causing her to cough violently.

“Dark smoke,” Octava chuckled. “Have fun with this one, Gerhmaine.”

“What’s that she has in her hands?” Gerhmaine noticed. The moment the pod fully opened, Jocelyn lunged out of it and inhaled a deep breath of fresh air.

“Hard to breathe,” she sputtered. “Is the smoke necessary?”

Both Octava and Gerhmaine ignored Jocelyn’s complaint. Their eyes were fixated on what Jocelyn held in her hands.

“Are you holding a bonsai?” Octava asked. Shock was smeared onto her face.

“It looks like,” Gerhmaine said, his arms folded across his chest. There was a wide grin across his face.

“How did you get that?” Octava asked.

“Asmodella gave it to me.”

Octava shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

“Liar.”

“Don’t be so pig-headed, Octava,” Gerhmaine said. “If Asmodella didn’t give her the tree, how else did she end up with it?”

“She could have stolen it.”

Gerhmaine laughed. “Your skepticism makes you delusional. Are you telling me that young Ms. Jocelyn Dark could steal a bonsai from right under Asmodella’s nose?”

Octava pursed her lips.

“That’s what I thought,” Gerhmaine said. He looked at Jocelyn long and hard. “Something tells me you’re going to be quite special.”

“Asmodella gave me the gift of magic,” Jocelyn announced, thinking this bit of information was important.

“Of course she did,” Gerhmaine said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here now, would you?”

Jocelyn did a quick scan of the area and realized that no one else who entered the pods had returned.

“The others, where are they? Are their physical forms gone?”

“Asmodella reveals too much information to mortal beings.” Octava frowned.

Gerhmaine put a finger to his lips. “Hush, Octava. Who are we to judge a god?”

“She prefers being called a Divine.” Jocelyn thought it necessary to correct him.

He took it in good stride. “So she does, so she does. It’s been so long.”

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“I still don’t understand the concept of losing a physical form. Are the others dead?” Jocelyn asked. She tightened her grip on the bonsai.

“No,” Gerhmaine said. “Life takes on many forms. While their physical body is gone, they still serve this Universe in an important capacity.”

“I suppose I’ll find out what that’s like soon enough.”

Gerhmaine frowned as his eyes traced the dark lines on her skin. “The poison.”

“It’s the blood from the Ruined God,” Jocelyn said.

“Don’t worry. We will figure something out.”

Jocelyn was surprised. “You want to help me?”

Gerhmaine smiled. “I’m responsible for you now. You’re officially one of my misfits.”

Jocelyn raised a brow. “Oh? And what does being a misfit mean exactly?”

It was Octava who answered. “You’ll be judged as an outcast in the eyes of the Asrai Empire while practicing a bastardized version of magic.”

That sounded fine to Jocelyn.

She preferred being called a misfit or an outcast as opposed to a slave.

“Where did you get that tree?” Ariel asked.

The little girl had woken from her sleep and was as lively as the stars burning outside the Ysomara.

“A gift,” Jocelyn said as she sat down on a cot and stretched. An aching tiredness seeped through her skin and wrapped itself around her bones. She needed to sleep, and the bed they had given her looked incredibly soft and comfortable. It was a welcome change from the hard plank of wood she was used to back on Behyru.

Ariel noticed the weariness in Jocelyn’s voice. “Do you wish to rest?”

Jocelyn nodded. “Just for a bit.” She took a moment to stare out the large bay window filling the entire surface area of one of the walls.

Damn, the stars were incredibly pretty.

“Okay. And then you will tell me what happened?”

“Why do you think something happened?”

Ariel took a seat on the edge of her bed. “There’s something strange about you. I can’t explain it. It’s like you smell different or something.”

“I haven’t bathed in days,” Jocelyn pointed out.

“No, it’s not a stinky kind of smell,” Ariel said. “You smell like the wind at night.”

Jocelyn set the tree down on her bedside table and collapsed onto her bed face first.

“That’s an odd description,” she said, her voice muffled through the pillow. “I guess I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” Ariel said. “I’m now going to find a book to read.”

Jocelyn noticed Toby was hiding in the shadows this entire time, maintaining a watchful eye on them.

“Do you have a library here?” Ariel asked the Pale Soldier.

Toby nodded.

“Any kid’s books? Ones with cool pictures?”

He shook his head. His face remained emotionless.

“Back when my mom was alive, she always said the only way to get better at reading was by reading harder books. I only wish she was here to help me pronounce some of the tough words.”

Ariel looked up at Toby.

“I don’t suppose you could help me?”

Toby shook his head.

“I’ll help you after resting a little,” Jocelyn offered.

“Okay. If I’m not here when you wake up, then I’m in the library.”

Jocelyn closed her eyes and listened to the pair of footsteps exiting the room.

She thought sleep would come immediately, but she was wrong. Her body was exhausted but her mind was very much awake.

It was processing all that had happened in such a short period of time: her murdering Bulba Fyore, the realization that Jaks wasn’t all he seemed to be, the invasion of the Asrai, the death of so many people, getting kidnapped by the Asrai, abandoning Jaks on Behyru, meeting a goddess, receiving the gift of magic from said goddess, receiving a bonsai, and now lying on a bed while drowning in a sea of thought.

I know magic.

The idea sounded preposterous.

With every last ounce of remaining strength she had in her, Jocelyn rolled herself onto her back, and stared at the ceiling.

I know magic.

If this were true, then how did she cast a spell?

She lifted her arm slowly and pointed the palm of her hand up into the air.

“Magic go,” she whispered.

Nothing.

“Hocus pocus.”

Nothing.

“Alakazaam.”

Once more, nothing.

“Screw it,” she muttered as she closed her eyes. It took a while but eventually she began drifting off into a deep sleep.

The last image to pop in her head was of Jaks, lying in a pool of his own blood, reaching out to Jocelyn. He looked desperate and angry, as if his pain was her fault.

Guilt chewed at her heart for leaving him behind.

There was no such thing as happily ever after.