The lights flickered off. It was night now. Hailey had been moved to a different cell, out in the receiving block, far away from the general population. They'd decided she was too much of a disruption to the main block, but the official reason was "processing". Hailey hadn't been processed properly, and had to go through the official procedure.

Right. Just procedure. They didn't stick me out here in the completely empty block far away from everyone because I'm dangerous and unpredictable. No, they stuck me out here because they did the wrong paperwork. Obviously.

At least there was a window here, across the hall from her cell through the bars. Hailey could see out into the sky, to the vaguest glimmer of a star off in the distance. Night was setting in full, and even though there was so much more light pollution here in the middle of the city compared to the Greywood or Rallsburg, it gave her a little bit of peace.

She still loved the sky, even if she'd resolved never to fly again.

Can I really do that? Give up flying?

It would be so easy, if Hailey really wanted to. Even in the deepest part of the prison, Hailey had no doubt she could break out. She'd blasted her way through thick walls back in London, when she was going after Rook and Lily.

I can't.

She could manipulate the very elements, move objects with her mind, make herself stronger than a runaway train, fly, change her appearance at will. The only limit was her own imagination, and the pile of gemstones in the bag sitting across from her cell.

I can't.

All she had to do was summon it across the twenty-foot gap and between the bars. It was practically effortless.

I won't.

There it was—Hailey admitted it to herself. She could break out. The only thing holding her back was her own will, a will that was weakening with every passing hour. If Hailey wanted to be free, wanted to feel the wind through her wings, the pure sun above the clouds on her face, the pure joy of diving through the open air, all she needed to do was try.

I belong here.

Hailey curled up in the corner of the cell. Not on the bed, not even on the chair, but far into the solid brick corner, where she could feel the cold wall on her face.

"Hailey."

A quiet, hesitant voice. Hailey thought she'd imagined it at first, until the voice repeated her name again. Slowly, she looked over, into the darkness of the empty cell, and saw a pair of pale, grey eyes staring back at her.

"Hi," Hailey whispered.

"What are you doing? Why are you in here?" asked Beverly.

Hailey didn't answer. She looked back out at the sky again, picking a star to focus on. She liked to do that when she flew, pick a star and fly toward it. Not because she had any notion she could actually reach it, but it gave her a sense of adventure.

She'd miss that.

"Hailey, you're really scaring me."

She almost laughed. You're the most powerful person in the world, and I'm scaring you. That makes so much sense. I'm terrifying. I'm a monster. I hurt people. You don't. You help everyone. You don't ever ask questions. You never screw up, not even once.

Hailey had actually asked her about that—if Beverly ever missed an awakening. Not even once, apparently. Beverly had been there for the very first one after the book was destroyed, and realized how to save them (Josh Miller, of all people) in time. After that, she'd set up the rituals that allowed her to sense any awakening, anywhere in the world.

Not even once. Beverly didn't make mistakes. Not like Hailey.

"Sorry," Hailey finally said blandly. She didn't look away from the star in the sky, just kept watching it, thinking about flying toward it. Maybe I should just try to go into space. That'd be an adventure, and it'd keep me away from everyone. I'd probably break a satellite though, send it crashing back, hitting something or someone.

Beverly sat down next to her on the floor. For a brief, happy moment in the darkness, Hailey felt like it were Jessica sitting there so close—but Beverly was cold. Jessica was never cold. The moment was gone, and Hailey burst into tears.

"What?" Beverly asked in alarm.

"Nothing," Hailey choked.

Beverly disappeared—off to awaken someone else, most likely. Hailey couldn't stop crying though, and still was by the time Beverly reappeared, in the exact same spot. There was no warmth, no embrace like she might have gotten from Jessica. Just cold. Just a void.

"I'm sorry," Beverly whispered. "I think there's gonna be a lot of them tonight. These new copies are making it really hard to keep up."

Hailey winced. So many more awakened. So many things that can go wrong. "It's okay."

"You're not okay, though," said Beverly. "I want to be here for you."

"Nothing's gonna make me okay."

Beverly hesitated. She tentatively put an arm around Hailey's shoulders, but Hailey shrugged it off. It wasn't like Beverly, and Hailey didn't want to feel like she was forcing herself.

"Don't, please," Hailey whispered. "I can't."

"Why are you in here?" Beverly asked again. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Hailey didn't want to go over the whole thing again. Not after Jeremy. She could barely get the words out, while in her head, she was assailed endlessly by guilt-ridden visions of the people she'd hurt, the people she'd failed, the damage and tragedy she'd caused.

"I…" Beverly trailed off. She vanished again.

Hailey curled up tighter, pulling her legs to her chest. She didn't want Beverly to come back, but she knew it was hopeless. Beverly was coming back. They were best friends, after all—at least, in Beverly's mind. She remembered a relationship that Hailey didn't. Beverly had erased it.

In that moment, Hailey felt like she should be mad at Beverly. After all, wasn't it Beverly's fault any of them awakened in the first place? She was the one who left the page of the book on her desk and disappeared that night. She was the one who'd let them discover magic, then erased herself from the picture and allowed them to experiment.

Hailey couldn't be mad at her. Beverly was too good, too noble. She had dedicated everything to saving people, and sacrificed any hope of having a life of her own in return. She made difficult choices to get there, and lost the man she loved in the process, but she still did it. She never gave up.

I can't do that. I gave up. I'm in here. I'm not like her. The only thing keeping me going was...

"Bring her back," Hailey whispered, when Beverly next reappeared.

"What?"

Hailey could barely force the words through her lips, so terrified was she of the answer she already knew she'd receive. "Bring Jessica back. You can do anything. Find a way. Reverse it."

"I… I can—"

She grabbed Beverly's hands, held them tight. Energy began to course down through every fingertip, rushing forward. Hailey put everything on offer. She threw her whole mystical being forward, desperate, pained, knowing what would happen if Beverly took it.

"Take everything. Use me. Just bring Jess back. Please. I'll do anything."

Beverly's eyes were glistening, even in the darkness of the cell. "It can't be done. She's—"

"Please," Hailey begged, voice thick, barely able to see.

"She's gone, Hailey."

Grief overcame her completely. Hailey broke her vice grip on Beverly's hands. She fell against the cell wall, weeping. Beverly stayed for a few more minutes, without speaking a word, but eventually she disappeared once again, not to return.

Hailey woke up a few hours later.

It was still the middle of the night—of course it was still the same night—and they were waiting for her. In her cell, surrounding her where she could not escape, they had come.

Hugo Rodriguez, eyes glowing with fear and betrayal, angry and terrified of what she'd become. Their friendship was long-forgotten. She barely remembered what had ever brought them together. All she knew was this man, this hateful figure who represented everything she had thrown away. Her past, before magic, when she was surrounded by joy and laughter and friendship.

She replayed the moment in her mind, again and again—visiting Ian's home. Seeing Hugo walk in, how loathing filled every inch of his face. The way his body tensed and prepared for a fight simply at the sight of her. Hugo would have killed her, and in her cell that night, all alone and stricken by grief, Hailey would have welcomed it openly.

But Hugo was not there to kill her. Hugo was there to accuse her, and he was not alone.

Aleida Nelson joined him. She was surrounded by vague ghosts of her children. Her eyes, thick with grief, accused Hailey for failing to protect her son. For failing to protect the people of Rallsburg. With all her power, with her abilities and her intelligence, Hailey had failed them. How many Aleidas were there, mourning their children who'd died when Hailey might have saved them?

Aleida condemned her, again and again in her home, where Hailey did not belong. Where Hailey had intruded and brought fresh pain to a grieving mother, a woman whose son had died senselessly in a town besotted with magic and greed. Hailey was selfish, just like the rest of them. Hailey didn't deserve the label of hero she'd so casually taken. She was culpable.

Beside Aleida, Trevor Halliday. He stood beside Elissa, beside Russell Wallace, with a horde of faceless protestors behind them. His eyes, full of disgust, disappointed with the person she had failed to be. Hailey, who could have done great things, but was too self-centered, holding herself as the ultimate authority. She had the power and the potential, yet she had failed.

He denounced her, again and again, in Elissa's apartment as she refused to awaken them. Trevor called out her recklessness, her foolishness. He laid plain how she saw the world, how she refused to believe she could be at fault. Trevor decried her arrogance. Who was Hailey to believe herself above the world? To call them 'humans' as though she were somehow better than them, different than them?

Jessica's parents. Beth and Malcolm Silverdale, in the old abandoned church they'd found for the funeral. They stood in front of the portrait of their daughter, with a casket wreathed in smoke behind them. Their eyes, laden with grief and anger. They blamed Hailey for the death of their daughter. They had put their trust in someone who could not be trusted. They had given over responsibility to Hailey, and she had failed them.

They convicted her, again and again, in the church, blaming her openly for Jessica's death. Beth was raging and screaming, Malcolm was weeping, and Hailey cowered before them. They showed the world how she had failed, how Hailey had let the most important person in their lives die due to her own carelessness and stupidity, her arrogance and recklessness, how Hailey was responsible for her condition in the first place, how Hailey had utterly destroyed a bright and beautiful soul.

The specters of her guilt and her pain wrapped up around her, choking her, chilling her to the bone. Hailey curled up again and closed her eyes, trying to keep them away.

In the dark of her mind, Hailey saw Jessica, on the street in Lakewood, eyes wide with fear—begging.

Hailey eyes popped back open, and the ghosts were there again. She could not escape.