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He sat in obscurity.


Encased by the moving shadows, the young man sat on the dusty bed in the middle of the room. The red neon sign flickered outside, and the rain casted its imprints over the place. It was some night in that little motel. Thirsty souls were all around, and they searched for that everlasting drink in a little bit of everything. But in all the restlessness, the man continued to drown his regrets with the harsh liquid dripping from his bottle of bourbon.

 The last few years had been a horrible mixed bag for Scott Farlett. Falling deeper and deeper into the cavern of depression, he thought endlessly about how he got there. Was it the death of his mother? Or his brother? Or was it losing his power? Or was it the fact that Jensen and Nick were too busy with their troubles to stop him from dipping into a pool of drunkenness.

Or was it simply his mind breaking because of the things he had seen? The war in New York scared everyone in those boroughs, and beyond. The recovery had been a drag on the country. Hundreds of floors had been reduced to simmering piles of charred memories and jobs. The Athens’ money helped speed up the process, but even they had their limits when it came to rebuilding at entire city.

Scott continued to stare into space, his eyes still broken. Stubble scratched against his skin, and his hair ran low toward his shoulders. He once more raised the bottle toward his lips, and gulped down the harsh mixture as if it was water out of a glass. The taste no longer burned his throat, or his nostrils. It flowed freely, and provided warmth to his cold soul. As he lowered the object once more, a knock on the door grabbed his attention. But as it continued, he grew less enamored by the sound, and went back to his flask.

Knock Knock Knock!

The sounds continued as the man on the other side of the door continued to knock. After a few more tries, he relented, and propped his back on the door. He placed his hands on his pants, and let his head tilt back onto the door, creating a little thud as he did so. The man sighed, before looking down the staircase of the place. There two more men awaited. Turning his head back toward the door, he took out a picture, and began playing with it in his hands.

“I know this day is hard for you Scott,” started the man, “It was the start of all this mess. And I’m sorry that you’ve lost so much. God, you lost more than all of us.”

Scott peered toward the door as the man finished speaking. He slowly dropped his bottle to the carpet, and walked toward the door. He too propped his back against the frame of the door, and placed his hands on his knees. Positioning his head against the door, he chuckled quietly.

“You just won’t give up on me will you Jensen,” asked Scott.

On the other side of the door, Jensen laughed as his continued to play with a picture of him, Gale, and Nick.

“Well you know me, Scott. Always trying to save the world an’ all,” he said.

“Well we’ve done a pretty shitty job,” replied Scott.

“I could see how you could get that picture, especially when you hang out in a place like this.”

“It’s places like this that are the real world,” said Scott, “Not whatever fairytale you and Nick live in back in Athens.”

“That’s your home, Scott. It’s suppose to be that way,” responded Jensen, firmly.

“Nah, I’m good. I prefer to see the world how it is.”

“The world isn’t like this, Scott. It’s healing. Let me show you.  What we…”

“Okay,” said Scott. He’s heard Jensen’s speech far too many times to sit through it again.

“But promise me I can come back to the real world, afterwards.”

Jensen sighed, and rushed his hand through his hair.

“Of course. You’re 20 years old. You can do whatever you want,” he said.

Jensen felt Scott’s body raise up from the door, just as Nick began walking up the steps. Scott grabbed his jacket off of the broken chair in the corner, before he grabbed his bottle off of the floor. He flung the door open, and stood in front of Jensen, just as Nick reached their locale. He laughed as he saw Scott’s disheveled appearance.

“You look like hell,” he chuckled.

Jensen nudged him in his side, but that did not stop Nick from smiling.  He went to place his arm around Scott, but as he did so Scott moved forward, shoving Jensen and Nick to the side. He walked down the stairs, taking gulps of his bottle as he did so. Jensen looked over at Nick, and he still had a smile on his face.

“You’re in a peppy mood,” said Jensen, placing his jacket on his back.

“I just think it’s funny,” replied Nick.


“That we continue to chase after Scott like a lost puppy.”

“We promised Gale, Nick.”

“We promised Gale that we would make sure no harm came to him,” started Nick, “We didn’t promise him we would babysit.”

Jensen glared across the room toward Nick. His eyes were tense, and his hands were in his pockets. He looked down at Scott, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Go get in the car,” he said, throwing down the keys.

As Scott left the lobby, Jensen turned back to Nick, who was awaiting his fate.

“We are all he has. And it’s not our fault that that is the case, but we are family. And we are the only family he has,” said Jensen.

“I know, Jensen,” started Nick, “But we can’t keep doing this. It’s been four years of chasing Scott. It’s been four years of picking up pieces that we can’t put back together.”

“What would you do, if it me? If I was the one lost in the dark.”

Nick looked up at Jensen and said, “I would leave you alone to find the light.”

Jensen nodded, began down the stairs.  Sighing softly, Nick followed suit, running his hand along the banister as he did so. A man, dressed in a suit coat and khakis, waited at the bottom of the stairs. His hair was thin, and his skin was wrinkled. As Jensen passed him, he nodded. Nick finally made it to the bottom of the staircase, and when he did, he placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Thanks again, Larry,” spoke Nick.

“No problem, Nicky,” replied Larry, causing Nick to roll his eyes.

“Hopefully that’s the last time I hear those words come out of your mouth.”

“You said that the last four times,” laughed Larry as Nick sauntered out the door.

Fixing his coat tightly to his body, Nick ventured out into the rain as Jensen and Scott waited in the smoke gray SUV. Opening the door, he slipped into the front seat of the car. Scott sat behind him, still holding his bottle in his hand. He peered out the window, not saying a word. He had nothing to say to either of them. Jensen placed the truck in drive, and started on their journey away from the lively but desolate place. Scott’s eyes were fixed on the little motel as it disappeared into the distance, and soon the red glow of the sign no longer flickered in his pupils.

After starting out onto the empty highway, the boys continued to drive in silence. Scott continued to stare out of the window, looking at the passing signs with a confused look on his face. It was a route he had never scene before, and Athens was the opposite direction. Peering toward Jensen, he cleared his throat.

“Where are we going?” he asked in a mundane tone. 

Jensen looked back at him, hands still on the steering wheel.

“To the City,” replied Jensen.

Immediately Scott became restless. He placed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and began to fiddle around in his seat. Of all the places in the world, New York City was the last place Scott ever wanted to step foot back in. All of his troubles seemed to stem from that etched out skyline.

Before long they were surrounded by tall skyscrapers and a city that seemed to breathe. Construction cranes continued to dominate patches of the city, especially in the area surrounding the Tower. Time Square had lit its last new bulb only a few months ago, and the new white sidewalks that filled the city casted dust into the air.  After everything that happened, the city that never slept continued to beat on with new life, and renewed focus. But while the buildings were new and the people seemed to forget, the soldiers that fought the war, the Scotts and Sanders of the world, would never forget that day. They would never forget the scars that were etched into their souls.

Jensen soon brought the car to a halt, stopping in front of the Tower. Its golden window panes glowed brightly in the night, and the newly placed windows provided crystal clear views into the worlds of its residents. For a few moments, the three young men sat quietly in the car. But after taking a deep breath, Jensen stepped out of the car, followed closely by Nick, and then finally Scott. Walking into the park, the trio battled against the cold that inherited the air around them. Briskly flowing through the young sea of cherry trees, the wind provided the only soundtrack to their walk. As they came up on that faithful clearing, Scott closed his eyes and his mind became filled with awful flashbacks. Stopping at the edge of the place, he ran his hands on the stone of the pillars. The bloodstains had been washed away from the granite, but they still ran through Scott’s conscious.

Jensen stood in front of the statue that now sat in the middle of the square. Alone in the night, Scott and Nick walked behind him, all of them staring up at the large monument. In portrayed three men, standing 10 feet tall with their hands placed toward their sides. The men’s faces were blank, the stone smooth to the touch as it faded into the carved hairlines. The base of the statue was a large circle, decorated with messages that had been scribbled onto it. But in all of it, only one word was engraved in its stone.


Nick placed his hand on the cold surface next to Jensen, while Scott stood behind the two of them.

“Why are you two doing this to me,” said Scott suddenly.

Jensen peered over at Nick, who was trying his best to avoid Jensen’s glares. But soon he wavered, and looked deep into Jensen’s eyes. Getting the message scribbled in his brother’s pupils, Nick turned around to face Scott.

“Look, Scott,” he started, “I know I can be hard on you.”

“You think,” mumbled Scott, his eyes fixed on Nick.

“I know it may seem like I don’t care, but I truly love you. I love you so much, Scott. But I just think you have to find the light on your own.”

“And how has that worked out for you,” shot back Scott.

Nick stepped closer to Scott, while Jensen looked on with intrigue.

“No matter what Scott, no matter how you feel, or what you think you are deserved, the world owes you nothing. And it is a sad and dark reality. But as all of us know…it is reality. Now I am sorry that you have lost so much…”

Scott began to chuckle under his breath. Soon his little sounds turned into loud laughter, and tears began running down his tan skin. He slowly began to gaze up as Jensen looked over at him.

“You all think this is about a few lost family members,” chuckled Scott.

“You lost a lot Scott,” started Jensen, “Enough to break the strongest of men.”

“THIS ISN’T ABOUT DEAD RELATIVES!” yelled Scott. “This isn’t about my mom, or my dad, or Gale. This is about something so much worse. We used to be something, guys….We used to be heroes. And now we’re just people. There’s nothing special about us. Our money isn’t special. Our family isn’t special. Our town is for damn sure not special. We’re just normal. And that hurts more than anything.”

“Scott, you are still a hero,” said Jensen.

“Heroes don’t hang in sketchy motels and drink to make the pain go away, Jensen,” replied Scott.

Jensen looked over at Nick, before turning back around toward the statue.

“If we are not heroes, then what are we?” he asked, “If we’re not special then what are we? Are we just a bunch of people who saved the world? Because that happens every day right? Scott you saved the world. We…saved the world. And while those faces are blank, that doesn’t mean that it’s not you. It doesn’t mean that that statue isn’t for you.”

“We don’t deserve a statue,” said Scott.

“You’re right,” started Nick, “We deserve more than a faceless statue. But we can’t go back.”

Scott opened his mouth to say something, but soon closed it. Tears began running down his face, and his breaths became heavy. Water in his eyes, Scott looked up at his brothers.

“I’m just so lost,” he said.

Jensen stepped closer to him, and placed his hand on Scott’s shoulder.

“And that’s okay,” he started, “Because there’s no book on how to be normal again. After all shit we went through and all the crap we saw, it’s impossible to go back. But you can chose to let it eat you up, you can chose to let the past destroy your future…or you can write your own plan.”

Scott suddenly reached his arms around Jensen, and held him tightly. Slowly Scott’s cries became louder and louder, until his body was shaking with tears. Nick placed his hand on Scott’s shoulder, and let a tear fall from his eye.

“Come home, Scott. You still have to find the light on your own…but you can do it at home,” he said.

Scott stepped back from Jensen and cleared the tears from his eyes. He straightened his jacket, and brushed his hair. Looking up at the boys with the bleakness in his eyes, Scott guided his body to one side.

“I’m broken,” he started, “and I don’t know when I’ll pick up the pieces.”

“And that’s okay,” replied Nick, “Because so are we.”

Scott nodded as Nick came and put his arm around him. They began to walk back toward their car. Jensen peered up at their monument one last time. As he did, he felt a chill roll through his body. He looked closer into the darkness behind the statue, into the shadows. Stepping closer he clutched his fist.

“Jensen,” called Nick, breaking Jensen out of his thoughts.

“You alright,” asked Nick.

“Yeah,” started Jensen as he looked into the void of the night, “I’m fine.”

He turned around and started back toward his car. And as he walked, Jensen held his head low to the ground, and did not see the displacement of shadows that sat high up in the darkness of the cheery trees.



I felt like I was at a funeral, instead of my birthday party. A morbid thought really, but it was the truth. My house was full of people looking at me with either tears, or sore eyes. It provided a stark contrast to the teal colored walls of my upper middle class home. The light shined through the pristine windows, but none of its luster seemed to reach any of the guests. In the corner of the dining room, a large cake sat in the middle of a table covered with pictures from my fleeting childhood. They were all such good memories, such naive ones. Those were the memories I knew could not make the trip with me.

A banner hung between the columns in the living room of my house. “Happy Birthday Carter” it read, but it my mind, I saw “Happy Last Few Months”. I stood up under the horribly hung piece of fabric, hands in my pocket, façade on my face, and watched as a royal blue car pulled into my driveway. Instantly, I knew it was him. And I hated him with everything I had. He had long stepped out on my mother and I. And in my eyes, he had no right to step back into our lives now. If I was going to die in battle, I could die without seeing him. I wanted my mother’s warming eyes to appear every time I heard the word parent, not his cold pupils.

My father was knocking at the door before I knew it. I continued to stand there, hands in pocket, as he knocked over and over again. Like I said, in my eyes he had no right to be there. I could hear the sound of my mother’s favorite heels clacking against the hardwood. I could always tell by the soft patter of one heal, padded by a piece of material, and the hard clanging of the other.

“Are you not going to get the door, Carter,” she asked in her sweet little voice.

“I zoned out for a moment,” I said, lying through my braces-fixed teeth.

My mother looked back at me, and shook her head, chuckling slightly as she opened the door. My father stepped through the doorpost, and smiled at my mother, something he had not done in years. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly, and causing me to get a vomiting sensation in my stomach. I cannot stand fake behavior. You don’t come around for 3 years, and you want to give out hugs? Seems just I presume.

My father looked up at me, and I looked down at my shoes. I could clearly hear his heavy footsteps become closer to me, but I continued to count the laces of my new boating shoes.

One, two, three, repeat.

“Carter,” he said, breathing out afterwards.

I continued to stare at the ground, but sensing my mother’s disapproval, my eyes started up. The first thing I noticed was the pressed suit he was wearing. Then it was the watch on his wrist, and the sparkling member on his finger. I continued to analyze every little detail about the man until I came face to face with him. A small smile graced his face. The wrinkles on his facade showed his age, but his glossy black hair did not. I peered over his shoulder, looking to my mother who stared back at me. She gestured for me to shake his hand, and I rolled my eyes in compliance. I reached out my hand, stepping back slightly as I did. He looked down at my hand, then back up at me. As he moved his hand toward mine, he suddenly embraced me in his arms, holding me tightly, and breathing heavily again.

“He too must be infected by the war bug,” I thought to myself.

I could remember all the times my dad had hugged me. I could count them on my fingers. But this time was different. This time he lingered. I knew why he did such things. It’s the same reason my mom had been buying me new clothes every chance she got. It was the same reason my neighbors were all saying hello to me on the street. It was the same reason anyone did anything regarding me recently. Because in their minds, they thought it could be the last time they see me with life in my veins.

My father let go of me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He looked deep into my hazel eyes, as if he was searching for something. Every movement they made, he countered. Every twinkle they made, he reacted to it.

“I’ve missed my boy,” he said in a deep voice.

“I wouldn’t have known,” I shot back before I could think.

“Carter,” said my mother firmly, making me waver.

“I missed you too,” I replied, lying once more.

Then came the awkward silence. The three of us looked at each other, waiting for someone to say anything. But nothing. No mentions of the weather, or the particularly nice shirt I was wearing. Nothing. A lot can change in 3 years. He really knew nothing about us, and we knew nothing about him. Which I was fine with, to an extent.

“Can I use the bathroom,” said my father, cutting through the silence. It was the first thing he had done worthwhile in years.

“Yes. You know where it is,” replied my mother.

He nodded at my mother, and went off to the bathroom, leaving us alone. My mother’s eyes instantly darted over to me. As sweet and as gentle as she was, my mother was firm in her raising of me.

“I know what you are about to say,” I started, “I’ll behave myself.”

“You will, Mr. Rugner. He is still your father,” she said.

I considered him more a sperm donor, but father would do for that day. I only had a few more hours with her, so I was going to make my mother happy in everything I did.

My mother started walking into the dining room, where the majority of the guest resided. As I walked behind her, and into the room, all the heads turned to face me. The talking stopped. The movement stopped. Everything was still as my mother started through the crowd. She shook hands, and hugged waists, while I slowly took steps into the room.

The first person I came to was Mrs. Crombie. Of course I would be blessed to talk to her first. From the time I was a child, she would make her delicious lemon cookies. She would leave them on her window seal, where a small stool sat under it. Over the years, the stool became obsolete, but her delicacies did not. Every day after school, till last week, she continued to leave them. And I grew fond of them.

I wrapped my arms around her small, aging frame, holding her gently. A few of her gray hairs itched my skin, but I did not mind. It was the comfort that mattered.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered in my ear.

“I’ll come back. I promise,” I replied back, in a whisper.

I released Mrs. Crombie, and she looked up at me, tears in her eyes. She knew what I had just done. I had done it three times in the span of 10 minutes. But telling the truth could be painful, and that wasn’t my favorite of things. I continued to walk through the crowd, shaking hands, smiling my fake smile, and giving false promises to all the ones I loved. Some of them believed me, I’m sure. Others, could see the truth written on my face.

After while, a tug on my arm caught me off guard. I quickly turned around to face the person. To my disdain, it was my father. He straightened his suit coat, and stood up tall. He leaned in close to me, his breath against my ear.

“Can we talk,” he asked.

I looked up into his eyes. I could see the sincerity, and wavered. I finished my conversation with one of my high school friends, before leading my dad toward his old office, which had now become mine. Mother always worked from her bedroom. I opened the door of the space, revealing the large, mostly empty room. There was a desk, a couple of book selves, a couch, and a television. I looked back at my father, who stared around in shock. It had changed a lot since his days of use, and I could tell he hated everything about it. But his words said otherwise.

“I love what you’ve done with this place,” he said, still looking around.

“You don’t have to lie to me. I can tell you hate it,” I shot back at him.

“It’s different than the clutter of my day.”

“Better in my opinion,” I said, folding my arms.

“I didn’t come here today to spend it talking about office décor,” he said.

‘No shit,’ I thought to myself.

“I wanted to say something before you left,” he started, “I wanted to say…I’m sorry for everything over the years. I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for missing all the games, all the birthday parties…your graduation. I’m sorry for all of it.”

For the first time that day, I thought about what I said next in regards to my father. How dare he apologize now? But death has that effect on people. But I decided that instead of ripping him to bits, I would feed into theories a little…because I wanted something from him.

“I don’t want your apologies,” I started, “I want your commitment. A promise.”

“Anything,” he responded quickly, as I stepped closer to him.

“I need you to take care of her,” I started, “Whatever you do, in whatever way I come back home, I need to make sure she will not be left alone in her grief. I need to make sure...she’s okay if I die.”

I tapered off toward the end of my statement, the words becoming real. My father nodded at me, and reached out his hand. I moved my own toward his, and cupped it firmly. A small grin graced my face as I looked at him, because I knew my father well enough to know he would keep his word. My mother, even after they split, even after all the hatred between them, was one thing he loved in his life.

As I still held on to my father’s hand, the chatter in the other room had instantly ceased. I looked up at my father, and he looked back at me, his nerves on edge. I let go of his hand, and walked into the living room, where everyone was gathered. Their hands set on their mouths, and their eyes were fixed on television screen. This pose was common for people watching footage of the war. But the tears that were starting to stream for their eyes were a peculiar thing. In the 3rd year of war, the tears had dried up. We had lost thousands of people, including a president. But as I continued toward the television, I could hear boom after boom coming from the screen. And as I reached the array of images, my throat felt heavy, as did my chest.

A bomb, an atomic bomb, had been dropped on Alexandria. The use of the bomb had not been as common place in the war as people feared, only used by radicals and terrorist. But that left people in shock, and heartbroken when they were dropped. It left their souls missing pieces, and their hope showing cracks.

As I looked at the screen, then back at the party, back at my teal walls and the birthday banner, a feeling seeped into my inner conscious.

It was reality.



It had been weeks since the world went dark. It had been weeks since James, and Darkness, had declared their temporary victory over the Varsity and all they stood for. Jensen, the ruler of all of the light in the world, was nothing more than a battered soul at this point. Nick was sill licking his wounds, and Gale still resided in a slumber of great proportions. So to the world, to the outside supernatural community, the Varsity had vanished. They had went to places unknown, and now James was on the hunt.

For the boys, they didn’t know where they were. It was dark all around them, and the only sounds they could hear were planes flying overhead. Other than that, it was a silent and desolate place. The cold air whipped through the poorly built wooden walls, and the roof had long been rotted through, allowing rain water to drip through it. It would pop off the dirt floors, and send a cloud of dust into the space. Jensen’s eyes were fixed on the puddle of liquid. His abnormally dim eyes flickered from their normal state, to their magnificent yellow glow. Tears rolled from them and down his dirtied cheek, before falling onto the ragged mattress Jensen laid upon. As he continued to transfix on the floor, the brokenness of his soul radiated in the darkness. James. It was the only word he had said in days. James. How could it be him? How could he betray us? Jensen had all these questions and more rambling around in his head. And while he did not want to believe that James, his best friend, could be what he is, there was no question that they were now being hunted by him.

He gazed over at Nick. Nick’s head was facing the ceiling, and his hands were folded over his chest. For most of the night, he kept watch over their safe haven. Unlike Jensen, his powers were not affected by the light, or the dark. Jensen sat up the bed and continued to stare at Nick. He moved closer to him, and slowly he noticed something. Under Nick’s eyelids, light was starting to swirl. As Jensen inspected, Nick suddenly opened his eyes, and jade glimmers filled the space, and streamed through the cracks in the wood. Jensen jumped back on his bed, and cradled his legs.

Nick’s body jumped up and his hands made fists. Slowly, the wounds on his body started to heal. From the gash on his head, to his back, slowly everything started to become new. The dirt that was caked to his face, started to flake away, and fall to the ground. Soon the glow began to subside and the night again took hold of the world.

Jensen did not budge from his spot. Nick again opened his eyes, and looked over at Nick.

“That felt…It feels…amazing,” he said.

Nick breathed in and out. For the first time since James had tried to kill him, he felt his power fully consume his body. From his head to his feet, every inch of Nick was surging with energy. Nick quickly rushed over to Gale. He held his hands over his body.

“What are you doing,” asked Jensen in a nervous voice.

“I’m bringing him back,” replied Nick.

He lifted his hands before slamming them back down onto Gale, releasing a surge of energy. The orb quickly created a shield around Gale, and slowly it was absorbed into his soul. Nick stood over Gale, holding his breath in anticipation. Jensen too stayed silent, and waited. It felt like hours had passed, and the as the sun began to ascend, they still waited.

“Maybe he’s never coming back,” said Jensen.

Nick sat down on the rusted bed, next to Jensen.

“He’ll come back. We all come back,” replied Nick.

“I can’t believe it’s him.”

“Jensen I know this going to be hard for you. But we have to kill him.”

“Why? Why can’t we just bring him back to our side,” asked Jensen.

“He’s gone. The Darkness is the only thing he is anymore. We have to protect what we have left. It’s hunt…or be hunted.”

Jensen was about to issue a rebuttal but before he could, Gale started to move. Nick jumped over to him and picked up him. Gale slowly opened his eyes, and stared up at Nick.

“What happened,” he said, leaning against the wall.

“James happened,” said Nick.

“What does James have to do with us being here?” asked Gale.

Jensen and Nick looked at each other.

“What’s the last thing you remember, Gale,” asked Nick.

Gale rambled around in his head, thinking about what he remembered, and what he did not.

“My Mom. She died in a plane crash…It wasn’t an accident…Then Leo..,” said Gale, tapering off.

“It was all James. He was the man in the smoke. He is the Darkness. He killed our families.”

Gale stared off into space as Nick continued to talk. Not James, he thought. Just as Jensen had went through the stages of accepting the truth, Gale too began to go through his questions, and found his answers.

As Gale continued to process, Nick turned to Jensen.

“It’s your turn,” he said, looking directly into Jensen’s eyes.

Jensen nodded, and Nick put his hands up to him. Nicks hands began to glow. Jensen prepared himself for the blast of energy, but as Nick sent the orbs toward him, they evaporated in front of Jensen. Nick, looking confused, tried once more, asserting more force. But again, Jensen’s body refused the energy. Nick prepared to try one last time.

“You can’t do it,” interjected Gale.

Nick put his hands down, and peered over toward Gale.

“Why not,” asked Nick

“Because he is the ruler of the Light. Only he can restore that in him.”

“Then why can’t he do it now,” asked Nick.

Gale stared deep into Jensen’s pupils.

“Because he’s broken,” started Gale, “There’s no fire in him. No more blaze…no more spark.”

Nick looked over at Jensen, and for the first time noticed the wavering light in them. He seized Jensen by his shoulders, startling him.

“Listen to me Jensen. You have to hold on to something,” said Nick.

“I don’t have anything. And what I do have, he’ll take,” said Jensen.

“Jensen you have to believe in something. There has to be something.”

“I just…I don’t want to believe anymore.”

“Feed off something he can’t take. Feed off your anger!”

“I don’t know how,” said Jensen raising his voice.

“Think off all he has taken. Leo. Justin. Your Home. Our lives.”

Jensen’s eyes became to glow slightly, and his fist became clenched.

“He took your life Jensen. Because what we are doing now, hiding, is not living. This is surviving! Don’t you want to LIVE?!”

Jensen was breathing heavily. Nick, sensing the anger building inside of Jensen, backed away, and so did Gale. Steam started to rise off of Jensen as his wounds started to heal, just like Nick’s. Then, as if in a hurricane, a large burst of light blew away the small shack, leaving them to be faced with the storm raging outside. Jensen let out a terrifying scream, almost a roar. The ground quaked around them, and as Jensen reached toward the sky, a beam of light shot up into the storm, tearing it apart.

In all of this, Nick and Gale were huddled as the base of the destroyed shack. And they were terrified of what Jensen was doing. But in all of it, Gale realized something. Jensen, once he truly became the ruler of the Light, could do unimaginable things.

In the next moment, Jensen brought his hands to his sides, and the light around him rushed into Jensen’s body, and again, blackness reigned over the place. Gale and Nick stayed still waiting to see some form of Jensen. After a while, the golden lights in Jensen’s eyes blasted through the darkness, illuminating the world again. The three of them walked out of the shack, and out into the world, back to their lives, back to their teething troubles. But they had been changed by James, and all that had happened. No longer would they be the hunted. They were now the hunters.




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