Sanidine was still in a foul as ******** mood; he was trembling with anger, and though he wasn't going to admit it to anyone—least of all himself—he was scared. He had come close to losing Evan before, but Evan was stupid, and no matter how hard he drove him away, he always kept coming back. It was pathetic, and Sanidine was keenly aware that he was using Evan, and he had been for a long time. In fact, he'd even gloated about it. It was fun to see how hard he could push him.

At first, he'd tried to do it to push him away. But Evan stayed. So he pushed harder.

And Evan stayed.

And for a long time, Zack couldn’t understand why.

He'd tease him, he'd pick on him, he'd bully him. He'd purposeful disappoint him. Make promises and break them. Lie to his face.

Zack was not a good person. It wasn't that he couldn't be—he was a good person for Cambria.

But he wasn't a good person for Evan.

And Evan, for whatever reason, couldn’t take a hint.

And Zack felt sorry for him. Not necessarily sorry for what he'd done, because he wasn't going to lie to himself; he was going to do it again. It was in his nature. It made him feel powerful. It made him feel invincible. He liked the rush.

But seeing Evan, lifeless, his starseed in someone else's hand reminded him of something.

Evan was human.

A human, in a war that raged around him. A human who couldn’t even stand up to normal humans, much less ones like Sanidine. Like Cavansite.

He dragged Evan to the roof of a building not too far from the restaurant; Evan weighed next to nothing, either because the boy was skin and bones or because Sanidine was oblivious to the extra burden in his anger. Not unkindly, he dropped him on a roof once he felt they were a safe distance away. He didn't care about Cavansite; he cared about prying eyes.

Evan squired; his consciousness was fleeting and when he looked up at Sanidine, his eyes were wide.

"Stop," Sanidine commanded; he ignored the moisture in Evan's eyes and hated Cavansite even more. Usually he liked seeing Evan cry. He liked the satisfaction of being such a powerful force in someone else's life. But this wasn't satisfying.

Evan didn't have the best control over his emotion, but his body went rigid and he stared up at Sanidine, clearly expecting something.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Sanidine insisted, though didn't sound gentle. Evan didn't believe him, clearly, judging by the way he swallowed below Sanidine. The Captain continued, "I'm going to fix you."

Evan didn't speak, but he didn't have to. There wasn't anything he could say that could change Sanidine's mind.

He drew in a breath and recalled the night he had joined the Negaverse. The night he'd been approached by a woman, tall and flashy and so good with her words that he would have accepted her offer even if she hadn't been beautiful and promising him all the power he'd wanted. He hadn't seen her since he'd joined the Negaverse, and he didn't know that he cared to. It wasn't that he was ungrateful, just that he had more important things to care about.

He remembered it clearly, remembered her explaining what had happened after he'd demanded.

Hand into your chest. Reach in, feel the starseed. Hold it tight, but don't crush it.

Push your power into it.

Voila, magical powers and nifty new skills.

Sanidine knelt, holding his hand over Evan's chest; immediately, the smaller male tried to scramble backwards, but Sanidine's other hand shot out to grip his collar and hold him in place. "I said I'm not going to hurt you. Don't make me."

There were the misty eyes again; Evan opened his mouth in a weak, "Please," but Sanidine didn't stop to hear it. He slid his hand into Evan's chest. Evan yelped and squirmed, though not much; the action seemed to cause him more pain that comfort, but Sanidine figured that only made sense—considering he'd already wrapped his fingers around the starseed.

Evan's hands reached out to weakly wrap around his wrist, as if he thought he could stop this.

But Evan had a hopeless look in his eyes and he didn't try to look away. He just looked up with those wet, pleading eyes, and Sanidine hated and loved him for it. She he gripped the starseed tightly, as if it could have run away, and pushed the chaos into it. Slowly, steadily.

It didn't even seem to be hurting Evan.

At first.

At first, Evan sat there, breathing shallow and slow, like he was trying to force himself to be calm. He wasn't relaxed, but Sanidine watched him tense below him. He pretended like he didn't care when Evan clutched his hands into fists. When his chest started heaving. When his brows knit.

When he finally let out a strangled cry.

But Sanidine just moved his hand from Evan's collar to his chest and he gently pushed him down. "Shh," he said, as if there were any words that could soothe him.

Evan calmed for a moment, and then his movements became erratic—frantic, and feral. He screamed into the night, and Sanidine caught his eyes.

His suddenly glowing eyes.

He stopped pumping the Chaos—or, at least, slowed the flow to a weak trickle as he leaned in. Words of concern were on his lips when Evan opened his mouth back to scream—and Sanidine watched as his jaw dislocated from the action.

Immediately, he pulled his hand from Evan's chest, as if it had burned him.

"—Evan," he chanced, desperately, but Evan didn't hear him.

Evan's body was convulsing and Sanidine's eyes were wide. He was frozen, mouth agape as he stared in horror. He didn't know where it started, but all of a sudden he saw a wall of black roll over Evan. He felt it.

And it felt wrong.

His mind took longer to process than his eyes took to see.

Evan's aura was chaos, but it wasn't what he wanted.

And it certainly wasn't Evan.

Helplessly, Sanidine stared down as Evan's body contorted—twisting and snapping and disappearing under a haze of chaotic black smoke. As if he could do anything, Sanidine dropped to his hand and tried to swat it away, but there was nothing he could do.

He'd ruined Evan the moment he touched his starseed.

Thin, and small, like Evan had been, but not Evan. A face rounder, drenched in a black that made him think of the shadows in your room, under your bed. Where the monsters hide.

He had hands—tiny, black talons and too long fingers. A soft, downy fur that covered him like the fur of a well groomed cat. Long, twitching ears, and wide, golden eyes that stared up into the sky.

At first, Sanidine thought he'd killed him.

And then he saw it breathe.

He didn't know youma could breathe.

He remained crouched over Evan, holding his breath. Sanidine's voice trembled, and he hated how weak he sounded. "Evan?"

The youma blinked, slowly, and its eyes trailed to Sanidine's face.

But it wasn't Evan.

It was just another mistake, and a mess he couldn’t clean up.