The legend says that the bearer of the curse has to 'light their own way through their darkness'. If they did that, they not only free themselves from the curse, they also unlock another power.

A bright (f/c) light flashes through the hallway, and I watch as my teacher's hand unravels into the flesh and bones of the dead soldiers it was made of. Something similar happens to the puppets, leaving puddles of blood and flesh on the floor when the light finally fades.

At my feet, my teacher clenches the stub where his arm used to be attached, squirming in pain. After a swift kick to the head to knock him out, I rush to Masrur's side. "Masrur, are you okay?" I ask, trying to turn him around to face me. Then I notice the blood pooling around his arms. "Don't worry," he says as he slowly gets up. "They used a poison to paralyse me. I had to cut my arms to bleed it out," he explains while I tear off my sleeve to make bandages.

We turn our heads at the sound of footsteps running towards us. It's Sharrkan, Hinahoho and Spartos not far behind him. "What happened here?" asked Sharrkan, his eyes bulging at the carnage. Masrur's eyes shifted towards me. I just shrugged in reply. In all honesty, I'm not entirely sure what I did.

"(Y/n) wiped out the puppets, but this could only be their first wave," says Masrur. "I didn't manage to get rid of all the puppets I was facing. They'll catch up to us soon," says Spartos, his face covered in cuts and bruises.

"That's not our only problem," I say. "To get here, the puppets would have to get past Ja'far, so what happened to him?"

They didn't see him, say the three generals, at least not on their way here. Where is he then? Did Al Thamen take him? To think they got past Ja'far...what did they do to him?

Suddenly, I feel a blade pressing against my back. "Don't move or she dies," the familiar voice of my teacher says. Crap! I didn't notice him stirring. Suddenly there was a thunk, then silence. My teacher's lifeless body falls to the floor, a blade mark in the back of his head.

A figure steps out from the shadows at the entrance to the hallway. "Ja'far!" Hinahoho calls cheerfully. "Where were you? There might be more puppets coming. Now you can help us fight!" says Sharrkan. I should be happy that Ja'far's okay, I should be feeling relieved that he killed my teacher. So, why don't I?

"Get down!" I yell, pushing Spartos out of the way just as Ja'far's blade is about to pierce through his face. "Ja'far, what the heck?" shouts Sharrkan, who has no choice but to draw his sword to stop his friend's next attack. He starts coming at us so quickly that I barely manage to dodge him. Blood and pain seep from a shallow cut on my neck. Ja'far really is trying to kill me.

All of a sudden, he stops and grits his teeth, shaking, struggling, suffering.

No. Not Ja'far.

I think back to the past week. Ja'far crumpling the map under his fingers, the way he'd rub his arms as if he was cold, and sometimes, just sometimes, an icy serpentine look in his eyes. He hasn't talked much with us lately. Now I know for sure. He was distancing himself from us on purpose.

But when he looks up again, his eyes are filled with the same chilling bloodlust. My mind shoots back to the first time we fought, his deadly, snake-like glare. But the look he has now is different. There's something else, something more feral and ready to tear anyone apart, something that definitely is not Ja'far.

He attacks us again, slipping quickly through our defenses and striking us like a snake. Even Masrur was having trouble defending himself. "He's fighting like a demon," says Sharrkan. "He couldn't move like this the last time we fought," says Masrur just as a row of puppets emerge through the hall's entrance...and another, and another, and another.

"Well, crap," says Sharrkan, voicing all of our thoughts.

We dance between the puppets and Ja'far, trying to keep both away from King Sinbad. But we're all aware that we're slowly pushed back. My eyes turn from the puppets to Ja'far, fighting Masrur a foot away from the king's hideout.

"Stop fighting him!" I yell. The generals look at me like I've gone crazy. "Masrur, stop fighting Ja'far. We can't fight the puppets while worrying about him. Let me handle him," I say, standing in whatever space remained between Ja'far and the king's hideout. The second that Masrur steps aside, red wires shoot out towards me. They coil tightly around my body as Ja'far lunges like snake. Pain courses through my body as we tumble down the stairs and crash through the door, sliding right into the hideout. "(Y/n)!" Sharrkan's voice echoes down the stairs. "Ja'far! (Y/n)! What the-" begins Sinbad. A faint light shines from his Metal Vessel.

"DON'T FIGHT HIM!" I yell. "I've got this." I tighten the wires that I managed to tangle Ja'far in on our way down the stairs. Now he can't move, though his hands still dig into my shoulders, pinning me down.

His snake-like eyes pierce through mine, the intent to kill written all over him.

An image of him turning his back to us, as he makes up some excuse to leave, flashes through my mind. Ja'far...how long have you been hiding your struggle from us?

I take a deep breath as the rukh flutter to life. (F/c) lights blink in the dim room. I don't know your pain. I'm not sure what you're fighting against. But hopefully, just this once, I can do something to help you. His grip on my shoulders weakens, and I let go of the wires to reach out for his face. His skin is cold against mine as my palms touch his cheeks. But I don't mind, because that means that my hands feel warm to him.

I breathe out, letting my rukh flow into him. Even as black spots start swimming before my eyes, my gaze doesn't tear away from his until the grip on my shoulders completely disappears, and the coldness in his eyes melts away.