Mao held on. He held on as tightly as he could, struggling against the feelings of anger and hate that threatened to spill forth. He tried to calm himself down, but every chain of thought sent him spiraling back to the root of the problem, the very cause of the anger Mao felt deep within. It hurt to keep that power back, however necessary it was, and he just wanted to stop. He just wanted to make it end.

The demon’s eyes, squeezed shut, snapped open at Yorda’s sudden touch. He nearly screamed at her, not recognizing the touch’s owner at first, only knowing that someone was close, but the words died in his throat as the dots connected. “Yor… da?” The shock brought every feeling he had to a stop, the aura and the pain and hatred attached to it fading away, leaving Mao to stand in silence. She was alive? But… he hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t ordered her to come back to life. What happened?