When the morning rays of the Sun rose upon the lands, Fionn was already up and ready, running back to Queen Elara’s ziggurat. “Why does she live so far away?!” Fionn groaned. He materializes golden chains to swing himself like a monkey. At least this method was faster than his sprinting. “I completely forgot there was a curfew for me.”

  He froze in the air like a misplaced statue mid-swing as a realization came to mind. “I can teleport,” he reminded himself. He spins around in the air to stand upright. He glances down at his hands in disappointment. “You can teleport, dumbass.”

  He distorts time around himself again, then shifts his spatial presence to just outside the doors of Elara’s ziggurat. “I wonder how angry she’ll be,” he thought to himself, trying to imagine an angry child screaming at him. He laughs at the thought of one of the knights being the one to scold him alternatively to Elara’s voice. “These people here are weird anyway, hahahaha!”

  He phases through her door, but freezes in place as a sword is pointed directly at the tip of his nose. On the other side, holding the handle, was none other than the wolf knight himself. His voice came out annoyed by Fionn’s presence alone. Of course, the youngest man that’s under Elara’s protection is also the most childish one. How fitting. “Anomaly,” he said with disdain

  Fionn flashes a wide, happy-go-lucky grin, cheesing. “Howdy,” he replied tauntfully, taking a miniature step back until his back was against the wall

  “Do you not take anything seriously?!” he growled

  “Well, I do, but people usually die whenever that happens.” Fionn shrugged casually

  With an annoyed huff, the wolf knight reluctantly withdrew his blade, but under the helmet Fionn could see his glare and narrowed eyes. “Jeez,” Fionn groaned in his head. “He reminds me of that woman from Chrona. Elaina was it? Elaine?”

  “Fionn.” a woman-like child called from behind the two. Fionn and the wolf knight tilted their heads back to see that Elara was approaching them, an odd tension sprawling from her. She was dressed in a lapis blue dress with a brown corset around her waist, black pantyhose underneath, and dark brown boots around her ankles. Her beautiful brown hair tied into a French braid, wearing her iconic white bonnet. “Please, Wolf, would you lower your guard? Do not frighten my private guard.” she pleaded, smiling warmly

  The wolf knight scoffs in Fionn’s direction, but turns his full body to Elara, kneeling before her. “I am sorry, Your Majesty,” he said. “He should have expected to hear from one of us, if not, from you.”

  A flicker of Fionn’s arrogant grin flashes on his face—he did expect it after all. Queen Elara smiles happily, patting the wolf knight’s head like she was petting a real wolf. “At ease, my knight.” she said warmly. She walks past him, looking up at Fionn. “My, you seemed very serious about protecting me, Anomaly,” she reminded, her lips stretching into a smile

  Fionn, skeptical of her true expression, leaned back casually against the door. “Uh… yeah? But you’re—!”

  A quick, blue aura coats around her right leg as she pressed her right foot forward. A small streak of ice freezes the floor underneath her foot, dashing forward and striking upwards at an attempt to freeze Fionn’s entire body if he didn’t sense it beforehand. His eyes widened in shock, surprised she was so subtle about it, even with her smile. “She… she just tried that sneak attack?” he thought, offended by her audacity

  “Surprised?” Elara asked smugly, then twisted her face into slight annoyance

  Fionn looked down at her stature, seeing her in a new light. “This kid—” he stopped in his thoughts, conflicting whether she was doing this because of his actions or just a test. Her tone suggested the former, coming off as if she was expecting this out of him. “Do not take my kindness for granted, Anomaly,” she started, glaring at his eyes. “Your lineage may have touched these grounds before, but I will put up a fight against disrespect and insubordination. A child of the Calamity Witch still possesses an essence of calamity-like tendencies.”

  His face twists into something unrecognizable—a combination of many different emotions coursing through his head. Something snapped inside of him in regards to that comment about his mother—known by her title. Was that all anyone saw? Was it just his Anomaly heritage that defined everything for everyone he’ll ever meet? That was the second time someone had referred him to his mother, only seeing the image of her, even when he was so very different

  No! That’s not who he is! He is nothing like her!

  Fionn clenches his fist tightly, digging his nails into his palm until they start to draw his own blood. He snarls at Elara as she turns away from him, letting out a sigh. “Honestly, you did appear different from that chaotic woman, but I held my hopes too high to—!”

  Elara’s sentence was cut short from Fionn’s explosive tone. “Can you shut up the already?!” he snapped, glaring daggers at Elara with an enraged voice. He dismissed the wolf knight that was standing stationary right next to them, only focusing on her. “I’m nothing like that damn woman, so quit calling me that! I’m a Demi-Anomaly, you stupid brat!”

  Queen Elara’s eyes opened wide with surprise. Demi-Anomaly? Wait, but he was said to be an Anomaly, right? “Excuse me, but you said Demi-Anomaly?” she questioned, making sure she had heard him right the first time. “As in, you’re part human as well?”

  “Do I get better treatment just because of it now?” he snapped again, gritting his teeth again. “Or am I still considered a child of that bitch?”

  The wolf knight was stunned to hear about Fionn actually being a Demi-Anomaly, briefly disregarding his tone. They were so rare to come by, especially within this Trial. Demi-Anomalies were half human and half otherworldly. For instance, a half-Elf would be considered a Demi-Anomaly simply because Elves aren’t Humans, yet the human DNA would still be recognized by people. Half-Angels, half-Demons, and other split species would too be considered Demi-Anomalies, all because they’re not fully human. Despite making up a rough estimate of twenty percent of the world population, Demi-Anomalies are still seen as full-blooded Anomalies. “You’re a half-breed?” the wolf knight asked abruptly. “But you’re a Creation Anomaly—Mind or Sight I had assumed.”

  Fionn’s face twitched in annoyance at that question, rubbing it off him trying to classify what his danger level would be. “Call me that again and I’ll break that armor of yours,” he snapped yet again, progressively getting annoyed with the two. Queen Elara clears her voice. “Now, now,” she interrupted, taking a warmer tone in her voice while trying to play the role of a mediator. “Let’s all calm down. I do apologize for my earlier remarks. They were not necessary and impolite of me.”

  Fionn’s body flinched at her apology, although he couldn’t tell if she actually meant it or was just doing it to avoid a fight. “Yeah, I’m sorry too,” he said reluctantly. Elara smiles briefly, flashing a small grin as well. “But I am curious about your nature, Demi-Anomaly.”

  Son of a…

  Internally, Fionn wanted to flick her forehead, but he instead bites back a remark. Would he be tried for treason if he followed through? “Yeah?”

  “Do you hold a human body simply because one of your parents was human? I’m assuming it’s your father as the—!”

  “Mother.” he corrected, staring down at her with a blank face

  “Mother?” the wolf knight questioned, thinking that they were ill-informed

  “Mother.” Fionn confirmed

  Elara’s face twisted into a puzzled look, shifting her weight onto one foot. Wait, his mother is the human one? But how could she be so destructive by normal means if that’s the case? “Your mother? But for sure she was born an Anomaly.”

  “No.” he stated again, but didn’t continue

  Elara huffs in frustration. He could at least be more descriptive about his awful lineage instead of just giving short answers about it. It felt like talking to a half-dead person. “Could you please elaborate more about your heritage? Trying to understand it from your little responses isn’t advancing this conversation,” Elara said, putting her hands on her hips with another huff. “I would like to know more about my private guard’s personal life if he’s going to be the one to protect me from harm. Please cooperate accordingly.”

  Fionn thinks to himself about how to word it to her. Should he talk about his own past? No, that might just bore her to death. Could he mention that Bridget wasn’t always evil? No, that might make it seem like he’s defending her actions. What about mentioning Aisling? Would that just be more jumbling than any of what he has said before? He sighs, looking up at the ceiling of her ziggurat with his neutral face. There were many ways to tell her, but currently, it was better to just say something—anything. “Are you asking because you’re really interested, or just because you can’t decide if I should be your guard or not?” he asked bluntly, still gazing up at her ceiling. “I’m not interested in sharing about myself to just anyone. So tell me your answer, Elara.”

  Elara was taken aback at his question. Not even she knew why she had asked about himself. After all, she was soft with him on their initial meeting, and even gave him the lenient of going to her city, but this one mistake that he made spiraled out into something so unnecessarily loud, especially for the morning. “I…,’ she mutters quietly, whispering even. Truly, why was she asking about him? Was she actually interested? To hear his side and about his upbringing? Or was it all for show because she likes to hear stories, no matter how dark or bright it would be? Her voice calms down again, speaking with her natural grace. “No, I am asking because I truly wish to hear your reasoning.” She looks over at the wolf knight, waving a hand of dismissal in the air. “You are dismissed, Wolf.” she ordered, allowing Fionn the privacy he wanted without asking. The wolf knight nods, giving them the quietness they needed for Fionn to explain himself—rather, explain his heritage that he so desperately despises

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  Once they were alone, Fionn loosened his stiff stance, thinking of where he should start. When he was one? Four? Six? All were important transitions of his life, each dwelling on a different path of his life, but they were ages far too young for the things he suffered to be willingly allowed by anyone. Fionn takes a quiet breath, exhaling slowly as he looks down at Elara’s soft eyes again. “Fine, I’ll talk,” he mutters reluctantly. The tension shifted into a deafening silence between them, air dancing around their ears like performers because Fionn’s voice cuts through it with a clean precision. “Bridget… was a good mom, at first. She was pretty happy to have a boy, and so was my older sister, Aisling, who was happy to have a little brother to play with after school. I was born on April first, and Bridget would cling to me like a koala. If I was out of her sight for more than two minutes, she would stop whatever she was doing and come check on me. Hell, she used to be the ideal mom: protective, caring, and would put herself into the depths of Hell if it meant that me and Aisling were okay.”

  Elara’s eyes were wide yet again for the second time, stunned to hear that Bridget was previously a loving woman. As unbelievable as it was, it almost felt sweet to hear about his infant days that he shared with her. But how did it all change? Multiple questions coursed through her mind, but it’d be rude to interrupt him while doing so

  “That was,” he continued, keeping his neutral tone, but there was an edge of disdain slowly creeping into it, “until Edgar decided to corrupt her soul against her will. I last remember hearing her screaming her lungs out and crying oceans for him to let her go, but of course that bastard didn’t listen. March thirty-first, the day I never saw my biological mother again, and instead saw the aftermath of what it’s like to be married to a Mind Creation Anomaly. He split her soul into a positive shell and a negative reactor. Her eyes dimmed to a Roman silver, and her blonde hair paled into this ugly sun bleached color. Even if he loved her, I think, Edgar used her body as a pathetic way to spite me just because he could. The day after I turned one, Bridget was beating me senseless for her pleasure. I didn’t realize she was given the ability to create anything from her mind until she broke a wooden baseball over my head, then fixed it out of nowhere.”

  Elara had lost her breath for a few seconds. Was this something he really had gone through? But Creation Anomalies—especially Mind—were rumored to be at the top of all known and unknown dangers, even amongst other high-tier Anomalies like Forbidden Outlaw and Supreme God. They were as unpredictable as they were powerful, but then again, he was far too young at the time of all of this to do anything about it. He didn’t have a full grasp of his abilities, let alone the ability to even walk on his two feet or fight back against the abuse. Elara, although she wanted to speak her mind yet again, held back all of her accumulated topics, but that wall was breaking at a steady pace as he continued to talk

  Fionn looked away from her eyes, twisting his face into a slight snarl as he continued his explanation. “The day after I turned one, she did basic torture methods just because of her shifted personality, but I could always see this weird shadow looming over her. Bridget drowned me in the tub during a bath, slashed my wrists and legs while I was watching a cartoon, burned my hair with a lighter while I slept, whipped me awake that same day, and all of that shit just to see what works and what hurts me the most. Of course, I screamed and cried a lot, trying to get away from a woman that could catch up to my crawling in two steps. Aisling was always away at school during most of it, so she didn’t know anything about what happens to me when she leaves. Not even when she was picked up, or even while doing her homework. I couldn’t talk, and trying to understand a baby that can’t speak English is like trying to understand ramblings in a different language. Screaming didn’t do much because it’s just seen as a normal baby crying.”

  Fionn’s voice finally stirred away from his casual, almost uncaring tone. It grew into a sharper, deeper tone as he continued to talk. Did he finally start to vent to her? Judging by the tone of voice, Elara felt like he was trying to get something off his chest. “I couldn’t walk, talk, or even think properly for a while because of Bridget’s damn beatings. Day after day, she would get more bold with her ‘sessions’. On the weekends, she would have Aisling and Edgar leave the house—or have him take her somewhere—just so she can have her alone time with me. I think she bashed my head into the counter with a frying pan after using it, and pretended nothing happened whenever they came home. Aisling saw me just… lying on the ground, assuming I fell asleep like that. There wasn’t any blood, but she told me she smelt a strong whiff of bleach in the kitchen.”

  He glanced down at the floor, keeping his tone the same, but trying to hold back from saying how he really feels about his parents. “After I turned two, that’s when Bridget didn’t care if Aisling saw whatever state I was in. She once wrapped me up in rope and stuck me in the oven while it was on. My skin started to melt and I couldn’t scream or escape… just to be revived yet again by Aisling whenever she came home. I still remember how desperate Aisling was to get them to stop. I never heard my sister scream like she was powerless… and it just continued. Whenever they were angry, whenever Aisling did something wrong, whenever Edgar yelled at Bridget…”

  Fionn’s voice started to lose its tone yet again, reaching further below like it’ll crack soon. All of these memories were nothing more than just pain. Pain and suffering. But why? Why did any of this even happen? What did Fionn do for any of this to happen? He was merely born, and this is how he was treated for wanting to live?

  His voice finally came back, but it cracked as he recalled his memories. “It was taken out on me. Every. Damn. Day,” he said finally, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “Just because I couldn’t do anything about it.” He refused to show his face, his hair blocking his expression. Even in the ziggurat, his hair cast a shadow over his face so no one could see how he was truly feeling, but it was clear what he was feeling

  Elara had to physically stop herself from reacting. She wanted to stop him—surely, he could read her horrified expression, right?—from talking. Her face had paled in disgust, not being able to imagine a mother doing this to their own blood-made child. But Edgar had corrupted her, right? That would have implied Edgar is the true Mind Creation Anomaly, and that would make Bridget… what? A Demi-Anomaly as well, even if she wasn’t born one? But she was a human given slight essence of a Mind Creation Anomaly—the ability to create whatever she thought of

  Not wanting to hear anymore of his horrific background, Elara finally interrupted him, but her voice was much more panic-like and louder than she intended it to be. “Stop! Stop! Just… please, stop talking,” she snaps, taking quiet breaths as the information unfortunately stuck with her mind. He sounded like he was going to continue on, and that only sickened her further. With a small wince, she lets out a shaky breath. The tension hanging around them was as horrifying as his past. Why… why was this even physically possible for someone to experience? “Dear God, the Calamity Witch is much more brutal than I had originally assumed, but please, stop sharing your past! I get the point already!” Fionn could tell her elegance was breaking under the pressure, so he shrugged off and stopped himself from continuing. He had expected this type of reaction as everyone before gave the same one. He returned to his casual state yet again, leaning back against the door. He couldn’t blame her after all. Who wanted to hear how Bridget forced his head under boiling hot water in a bath repeatedly until he drowned? Or how he would run away from his own mother whenever they went out in public, only to be caught by Edgar who made it look like he was just catching his kid

  They hid Bridget’s actions so well that not even Aisling was believed by neither her teachers, principle, nor the people. Of course she got away with it… of course no one questioned them. Fionn, finally showing his face slightly, smiled slightly. “I owe Aisling so much… I’m sorry, sissy.” he mutters to himself. “Huh… now I just have to tell her that directly, hah.”

  Fionn stops himself from crying immediately, shrugging his shoulders to remain so irritatingly casual about this situation. “But none of what I said or happened to me justifies how I act and what I do.” he said finally, which was a strange addition after everything he has said. The tension eased into something… awkward—or worsened, it was hard to determine for her. He was so busy trauma dumping that he unknowingly made Elara regret asking about his life. What could she say after something like that? She looked as if she wanted to throw up soon—or right now, really. And his casual tone about it all was just unnerving to hear. “J-just… grace me the current moment to process such a… horrific, terrible life, please,” she asked, her voice coming off as yet another plea for mercy. Fionn nods, leaning against the door again

  The silence between them stretched for what felt like four minutes, trying to gauge how destructive Bridget really was fourteen years later. If every day was torture, as he put it, how did he escape a woman like that without dying for good? Did Aisling assist him once she found out? She had to, right? Despite her innocence, she couldn’t have ignored all the signs of Fionn's abuse, such as the smell of bleach and blood in the air and seeing how he wouldn’t function normally. But what about Aisling being hit? Or was it just Fionn? Many, many thoughts raced in her head, but she didn’t want to speak them, fearing what she may be told as a response. His life was already horrific as is, and it solidified her thoughts about Bridget as the Calamity Witch being an absolute monster to even her son

  “Ugh…,” she groans in pain, progressively calming her nerves. Elara finally glanced up at Fionn, seeing his neutral expression after sharing a bit about his life. “Perhaps I should share about myself too.”

  She clears her voice, glancing at his shoes. “It’s not as eventful as yours is, but I suppose it would better establish our bond, don’t you agree?” she asked, hoping that he would listen. Fionn gives a nod, acknowledging her point. He was curious about her too, especially for how mature she talked despite earlier struggling to not make a fool of herself. “I am only eleven years old, but I am quite above the common expectation. At a much younger age, my father had died in a war started by your mother. I was only six years old at the time, and my mother was devastated to see her love had not returned once it was over. We were left alone in the palace with his absence. My knights tried to keep our spirits up, but my mother wept constantly. Two years later, while I was the age of eight, my mother had left to find a new husband, but she had not come back to me since her departure. My lead knight, Cat, broke the news to me… and I would still weep to see her hand one last time.” Elara said, intertwining her hands together in front of herself. “I took the mantle of our kingdom and instructed my knights to assist me in leading. I had to put away my innocence in order to protect my kingdom in case another Creation Anomaly dares to destroy what my parents have made for their people.”

  Elara gazes up at Fionn’s eyes, a slightly sweet smile creeping onto her face. “But, I won’t discriminate against anyone who’s an ally under my wing. I apologize for this awful morning, and I truly do forgive your mishap. You are my guard, not a mere knight.” she said, her smile widening into a grin. “As the heir to my throne, I should be more mindful of mishaps instead of threatening. I would be no better than a cruel tyrant in that case. You have—”

  Before she could continue on with whatever she had to say next, Fionn’s voice cuts in and interrupts her. “Nah, you’re fine,” he said abruptly. Elara tilted her head to the side. “Huh?” she questioned, going quiet for a moment

  Fionn’s voice came off calm again, looking down at her. “You’re the queen, so you should call someone out on their promise. What if something had happened while I was out? That would be on me, not on you in any way,” he stated. He looks around the ziggurat, taking a slow breath. “I am sorry for not listening, even when you put trust in me for showing up by the time given.”

  Her little eyes softened. “Ah… it appears he’s a bit reactive, I see,” she thought to herself. Earlier, while she was being a bit threatening, she could sense he was willing to fight her outright over it, but now, she could feel the softer, more human side of him. “It’s almost as if he’s on the verge of destruction when given a reason, but remains calm when shown genuine kindness. If Aisling was a great influence on him, then I am grateful for her existence as well.”

  Elara looks off to the side, analyzing just how Fionn works. With her earlier threat, she saw just how explosive he could be. He only focused on her, even when a knight was nearby, yet when things started to simmer down, she could see he’s a person using everything in his power to stay what he wants to be—human. She takes two small steps towards him. “Sir Fionn…,” she said quietly, smiling again as she approached. She raises her arms up to him, a soft aura emitting from her body. “Allow me to hug you.”

  Fionn knew she realized how he works, or at least, how to keep him from being destructive. He smirks as he lowered to her height, wrapping his arms around her little frame and pulling her into a comforting hug. “She’s perceptive too… that look on her face was the same realization I had when I saw that she was the Trial Code.” Fionn thought to himself, unintentionally lifting Elara off her feet and holding her like a father would

  “Fionn?” Elara squeaked, confused by how fast he lifted her. Even her other knights didn’t pick her up so quickly. Did she weigh nothing to him? “Hm?” Fionn mutters, keeping a protective hold over her so she wouldn’t slip out of his arms. “What’s up?”

  Elara pushed away from his hold, although it felt like she was pushing on a brick wall. Just what the heck is he made out of?! “Put me down! I am not a chi—” she stopped, seeing how ironic her statement would’ve been. “I mean, I am not a simple lady that you can just snatch up! I demand to hear your reasoning for dragging me into the air by your strength!”

  Fionn’s voice went back to his familiar teasing tone. “Well, if I drop you, that’ll just feel wrong. You’re still a child.”

  “Do not underestimate me, you dolt!”

  “Oh wow, you fit being a queen perfectly.”

  “Stop mocking me!”

  “But it’s so much fun!”

  Elara couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing nature. She hasn’t felt like this in a while, not even from her jester nor the people. “Truly, I underestimated him too much. He is nothing like the Calamity Witch, nor does he hold harmful intentions,” she thought to herself, laughing again. “Just like your mother… you’re unpredictable, Fionn.”

  While joy coursed through Fionn’s and Elara’s bodies at her ziggurat, a certain hero was annoyed with the results of his failed plans. How many of them went wrong because an Anomaly occurred? Or how many of his elites have died because of that Anomaly—rather, both, its mother and the son?

  In a broken structure, likely a Ruins of some sort brought up to the surface near a forest, a group of four “heroes” were sitting around, seemingly waiting for someone to show up

  Leaning against the wall, with their arms crossed, was a slightly short knight wearing frog-like armor. The area of where their eyes should be were glowing yellow, while the helmet was styled to look like a frog head. Silver was structured to make the outlines of a frog’s face. The armor was much thicker around the body, feet, and hands, while it was thinner around their arms and legs. Off to their side was a silver claymore leaning against the wall too. The handle had a dark orange string wrapped around to show where their hands would go

  Another figure was sitting on a broken wall, looking up at the sky as the morning wind swept through the air. They were dressed in a dark purple tunic under a black robe with golden accents, brown trousers, and dark brown boots that looked like they were burnt around the soles. Their face was concealed by a plain white mask to hide their face, but their body clearly belonged to a man

  A third person was idly doing push-ups near where the entrance of the Ruins would be. They were dressed in a red bodysuit under a tight blue sleeveless shirt. Silver was decorated around where the veins of his arms would be. He also wore a black belt around his waist with a red buckle, blue boots that were decorated with white designs, and a bright blue cape that came down to his ankles, which had a glowing white star in the middle. He was equipped with brass armor on his shoulders, brass gauntlets around his arms, and even a brass chestplate. Much like a children’s comic book, he wore a yellow mask over his eyes to “conceal” his identity, although it was a bi confusing why his eyes were glowing white

  Lastly, a man was leaning against the wall in the back—noneother than King Brennen—with his arms crossed over his chest as well. He had a black eyepatch around his left eye with a white fire symbol over it. His face was covered by a full goatee, a flesh scar on the right side of his mouth, an X-scar on his left cheek, and another scar splitting his right eyebrow in half. His black hair was more messy than before, but spiky as well. He was wearing a black robe over a midnight blue tunic, a black leather belt tied around his hips, black pants, and brown boots with blood staining them. His eyes were separate shades of colors: his right eye was basil green, white his left eye was royal yellow. His voice was as rough and deep as before, glaring at the other three people with a dark expression over his face. “Where is she?” Brennen asked

  The mage spoke up, his tone calm while his voice sounded like it was joyful. “What a joyous morning, don’t you agree? Our meeting will be glorious as she promised!” the mage squealed

  “Shut up,” Brennen ordered

  The mage zips quiet upon his request immediately. “The Calamity Witch is as close as we can get to beating another Creation Anomaly. She better be here,” Brennen snapped, looking over at the “superhero” doing push-ups. “I don’t waste my time with pointless matters.”

  As he said that, a huge golden ring appeared just before the front of the Ruins. A woman—5’8—happily skips through the portal like a child, closing it as her shoes hit the grass. She had corn yellow hair, bright green eyes with a small splash of blue, and her face adorned a wide, happy grin, unnerving Brennen slightly. “Oh, what a cute little get-together!” the woman said, jumping over the hero at the front. “Aww, is my sweet little boy causing the weak King Brennen trouble?”

  The woman was wearing a cropped white fur coat over a black long sleeved shirt, cropped to show her stomach and waist, a long white skirt hanging just above her knees, black leggings underneath, and white boots with flat soles. She wore silver hoop earrings, and silver rings around all of her fingers. King Brennen narrowed his eyes onto her, scoffing in disgust at her comment. “Shut up, Bridget,’ he ordered. “Just tell me how to beat that bastard, you Pseudo."

  She laughs aloud, putting her hands on her hips. Her grin stretched wider, similar to her son. “Now, now, the deal we made was that I get to see my doggy again, and in exchange, I tell you how to counter Creation,” Bridget reminded him, stepping closer in a threatening manor. “So tell me…”

  “Where’s Fionn?”