Ocellia, Ostarra, and Avi are three heroes-to-be searching for the quest to end all quests… but first, they must track down the prophecies that will lead them there.
What happens when those prophecies, fluttering like butterflies, scatter before they can find them?
WORD COUNT: 4.5k GENRE: Adventure & Fantasy AGE RATING: Teen
WARNINGS: Mild Violence, Explicit Language
***
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Ocellia Flicke and Ostarra Bleake and Avi Britte, who were nineteen and eighteen and nineteen respectively, were the oldest three orphans in this humble, little orphanage – a place for the descendants of heroes without anybody left to love them – and yet, dozens who were even younger than them had already received their fated prophecies.
When the butterflies were released last year, fifteen-year-old Yva had received hers, destined to tame a dragon and ride it to end an ancient war, as had several others in her age group and in Ocellia and Ostarra and Avi’s age group. Odilinde was to save a princess and Lavinia was to destroy an unlawful prison and Briah was to be a little villainess: even that, to these people, was celebrated.
Off into the world, they had gone.
And Ocellia and Ostarra and Avi had nothing at all.
Left behind by those who were set to outdo them.
Into the world went the overthrowers of dangerous kings, the discoverers of gods unknown, the savers of princesses from the most beautiful dragons in the seven kingdoms united.
And yet, Ocellia and Ostarra and Avi were left behind by the youths who were set to outdo them. Nothing awaited the three of them.
Nothing.
Therefore, they had only one thing that they could do.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
In the middle of the mansion’s little living-area, Ocellia flopped onto the couch, her blue-green gills shimmering and her ash-brown legs still faintly scaled from the tail that it was when she wanted to swim and swim and swim forever. She groaned, kicking her feet into Avi’s purple-skirted lap, and plopping her head into Ostarra’s.
“I wanna kill a pirate!” she whined.
“To save a hostage!” added Avi, bright and chirpy.
Ostarra didn’t seem to look up from her book.
Flipping a page, she certainly did not make a comment.
But she was known to be like that.
More than known, really. She was expected to be like that.
Even though Ocellia knew and knew and knew and knew and knew and knew and knew that this was going to get on her nerves.
All of this… this… this…
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
But Ocellia was better than most at getting on Ostarra’s nerves.
And so, she reached out with one webbed hand, and she slapped it upon the open book, covering the letters and making Ostarra snap to glare at her with those ink-black, night-black, obsidian-black eyes.
Before those eyes only settled on annoyance.
“Perhaps you’ll get your prophecy today,” snapped Ostarra, “and you’ll be able to leave me alone forever.”
She yawned as if she did not care.
Ocellia may have been stupid.
And she knew she was stupid.
Knew and did not care that she was stupid.
But she knew that Ostarra did care.
Or Ostarra wouldn’t still be here.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting for a prophecy that should be coming any day now!
Ocellia sat up, clapping her hands together. “I wanna kill a big, scary dragon! I wanna grab its neck and squeeze it with my pointy, pointy, pointy fingers until it pops! What do you wanna do, Avi?”
Avi beamed, their purple buns bouncing. “I wan to join a group of heroes, and we’ll fight evil together, all while wearing the prettiest and the sparkliest of outfits! Like my best dress, you know?”
Ocellia nodded eagerly.
That made sense.
Lots of sense.
She then turned to Ostarra, still grinning. “What do you want to do with your prophecy, Star?” she asked.
A moment passed.
Two. Three.
And Ostarra shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m fine with just…”
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Ostarra was fine with just waiting, she always-always-always claimed, like the silly little liar that she was. She was just fine with waiting. She was just fine with waiting. She was just fine with waiting. She was just fine with waiting. She was just fine with waiting. She was just fine with waiting. She was just fine with waiting.
But that was a lie.
A lying lie.
A big and bad and evil lying-lie.
Ocellia pursed her lips.
Ocellia furrowed her brow.
And then Ocellia huffed, flopping back down to lay across her best friends’ laps, her head upon Ostarra’s knee and her finned calves across Avi’s. The couch squelched beneath them, from the too-many-times that Ocellia had thrown herself across it without drying her tail.
A pillow slipped and hit the floor with a wet thump, joining the scattering of clothes and books and toys and sticks.
Little weapons.
Not real weapons, but the kinds made of ceramic and wood.
“Whatever, Star-Star!” said Ocellia. “You’ll get something eventually, just like me and Avi. We won’t be waiting forever!”
Waiting forever.
Forever and ever and ever.
How silly of a thought!
They definitely wouldn’t be waiting forever.
Yes, there was some waiting.
But only some waiting.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Until—
“Kids and kiddos!” called their house-mother, Chrysanthemum, with her dark curls in one puff and her grin permanently affixed to her warm-and-loving face. She stood at the very top of the staircase near the couch, making Ocellia and Ostarra and Avi all sit upwards suddenly, their eyes as wide-wide-wide and bright-bright-bright as could be.
They exchanged looks.
Quick looks.
“Come to the attic!” called Chrysanthemum. “It’s almost time!”
A moment passed.
A single moment alone.
And then Ocellia leapt over the back of the couch, her foot whacking into Ostarra’s face in her eagerness. She landed flat on her face on the floor, but she had done that very many times.
She would live forever!
The floor couldn’t kill her!
Her slam into the floor did not deter her, and she quickly leapt to her feet, racing up the staircase, then clambered up the ladder to the attic.
All without giving their laughing house-mother much of a glance.
Ocellia hurried and hurried and hurried.
Ostarra and Avi were right behind her, the former grumbling and the latter squealing like some piglet.
The rest of their fellow orphans ascended quickly, too.
And soon, they were all in the attic.
Packed closely together like fish in a tin.
Dust sparkled in the light from the locked stained-glass window, turning it into a spectacle of great colour and delight. And that meant one thing, and one thing alone: the prophecy was near.
There was only one thing left to do.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting—
And the glass of the window shifted.
The stained-glass patterns unfurled.
And the butterflies burst right through, sending a rain of glass shards and a scattering of iridescent wings in every direction imaginable.
They were beautiful, like the fractured pieces of the stained-glass window, and Ocellia couldn’t help but gawk and watch and watch and watch and watch and watch and watch and watch.
Until Ostarra knocked her elbow into Ocellia’s ribcage.
In a voice of awe, Ostarra said, “I see ours.”
A moment passed.
Two. Three.
And then Ocellia straightened, suddenly, knowing exactly what Ostarra was referring to, because there it was.
A butterfly with blue mermaid-scales.
Ocellia.
A butterfly that glimmered with purple sparkles upon its wings.
Avi.
A butterfly made of black and pink swirls, resembling eyes.
Ostarra.
And the butterflies fluttered close together, a trio just like the trio who had always secretly wished to have their prophecies together… or, at least, Ocellia and Avi had always wished for it. Ostarra never said it aloud, but Ocellia was sure and sure and sure.
Very sure.
Ocellia was good with these things.
And so, she knew.
Ocellia made a squeal of a sound, clapping her fishy hands together.
Avi matched it.
And the two of them leapt forward, hands outstretched, practically begging to grab their butterflies and finally find their fates.
And the butterflies dodged.
“Dammit!” exclaimed Ocellia, grabbing the wrong butterfly and tossing it back over her shoulder, to the obvious complaint of whichever fellow-orphan had been saddled with those lemon-yellow wings. “Get over here, baby-butterfly-bitch! You’re mine!”
Avi was far less foul-mouthed, instead repeating the same word again and again and again. “Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!”
And the three butterflies dodged every time.
And the three butterflies darted past them, down the trapdoor beside the bewildered-but-not-alarmed Chrysanthemum.
And the three butterflies disappeared into the house.
Ocellia, Avi, and Ostarra dove to follow.
Down the ladder.
Leap. Leap. Leap.
Descending the staircase.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Through the house.
Quick. Quick. Quick.
Out an open window.
Of course, Ocellia and Avi and Ostarra dove through that window, too, knocking their shoulders as they tried to move all at once.
They rolled down the grassy hill that their mansion stood upon, right in the middle of the vastest of forests, leaves coming in every colour a girl like Ocellia could imagine. And, right beside the hill, still nestled in the forest, was Ocellia’s favourite place in the whole, wide world.
The lake.
Giant.
Infinite. Almost.
A sheen of mist sat upon the sapphire waves.
Several islands sat in the very centre.
And Ocellia and Avi and Ostarra watched as the butterflies disappeared over the lake – too high to swim after, and too quick to follow from the beach around the lake – leaving the three of them alone together, on the shoreline, unsure of what it was they were even meant to do about this… this… whatever this was.
A moment passed.
Two. Three.
“Fuck,” said Ocellia.
Though silent, it seemed Avi and Ostarra agreed with that sentiment.
***
“We can help take you across the lake,” said their house-mother, Chrysanthemum, her voice merry and unperturbed by what had just happened, though few things tended to dampen her spirit.
Her yellow cat-eyes glinted with a thousand ideas.
She had been a hero in her youth, she claimed.
Ocellia thought she was one of the coolest people in the world.
The other house-mother, the wife of Chrysanthemum, Kaydah, nodded. “We should have the supplies to build a new raft, and we’ll be able to take you to the lake’s main island! You don’t need to worry, honeys,” she soothed. “We can help—”
“Nope!” said Ocellia, climbing onto the table and planting her hands on her hips. “Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope!”
Everything went quiet, for a moment.
A long moment.
And then Ocellia snapped to Ostarra and Avi, who looked about as bewildered as could be, one with a furrowed brow and the other with a head cocked to the side, lips pursed with puzzlement.
“We,” said Ocellia, as if reciting a great monologue in the middle of a boring play, “are going to do this ourselves.”
Another moment passed.
Another two. Another three.
And then Avi puffed out their chest. “Yes!”
All eyes went to Ostarra…
…who rolled her eyes, before shrugging. “Whatever.”
***
Ocellia packed her favourite seaweeds, raw fishes, and the kinds of fruit that only bloomed at the bottom of their garden’s pond. She also packed her three favourite knives, as jagged as fishbones, and the potion she would need to use to set a fire underwater.
Just in case.
She hoped she would get to use them.
That would be very, very, very fun!
Ostarra packed potion bottles filled with various teas, enough dried crackers to feed a whole army, and berries in the shapes of her favourite constellations. She also packed her throwing-stars, and a pack of oracle cards that seemed like they had never, never, never, never, never, never, never failed her. Not even once.
Which was very cool.
And, finally, Avi packed an assortment of snacks, some potion-bottles that nobody really knew the effects of, and enough outfits for a month of battle-trainings and ballrooms.
Because they liked to be prepared for everything.
And so, they were ready.
***
And so, they could begin their quest.
Waving goodbye to the other orphans, stood beyond the crowded front door, Ocellia shouted louder than she had to. “Next time you see me, I’ll be covered in the blood of my enemies!”
Some people cheered.
Some people looked like she was insane.
Avi waved goodbye, too. “Next time you see me, I’ll be in my battle-dress, after the coolest fight in the world!”
Ostarra did not wave. “Yes,” she said.
Chrysanthemum leapt eagerly at the three of them, holding them close, squeezing them tightly. “Come home soon, all right? You have to come home and tell us all about your wonderful prophecies when you find them.” She leant back, poking them each on the nose one by one by one. “Understood, my no-longer-kiddos?”
Ostarra nudged her aside, but didn’t seem particularly perturbed, even when she rolled her pitch-black eyes.
“Understood!” said Avi, puffing out their chest.
With one hand, they saluted.
Kaydah offered her own well-wishes.
And the three of them turned away from the orphanage.
Towards the lake.
And so… they began their quest.
***
Their first hurdle.
The three of them stood at the very edge of the late, shoes and toes caked in sand, as they stared in the direction the butterflies had fled in, without a raft that worked, and without having agreed to Kaydah’s offer to give them a hand with that part.
Their first hurdle…
First of many…
“We could go… around the lake?” offered Avi.
Ostarra shook her head. “It went over the lake, into that island.”
Ocellia furrowed her brow.
She pondered… and pondered… and pondered… and she discovered the she really wasn’t that good at pondering. But she probably should have already known about that, given everything.
Turning to Ostarra, Avi blinked and blinked and blinked with innocence in their big, purple eyes. “How do you know that, like, for sure? They could’ve crossed into the forest! Did you have a vision about it, Star? That would be so cool, if you had a vision!”
A pause.
A short pause.
A long pause.
“I guessed,” admitted Ostarra.
Ocellia bounced from one foot to the other, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, trying again to ponder.
If the butterflies…
If the lake…
If the island…
If… if… if…
Oh.
Oh!
Ocellia clapped her hands together like a sealion with its flippers. “I have an idea!” She turned back to Ostarra and Avi. “Use your cards, Star! You brought them, didn’t you? Check! Check! Check!”
“I mean, I did, but…”
All of a sudden, Ostarra straightened on the spot.
A gasp of breath.
A freeze in place.
An entire freeze in place.
Dark eyes widened enough to expose the flecks of pink in the irises, like rose-stars in a black-night, flashing and twirling and twisting and speckling and dancing and dancing and dancing.
Until Ostarra was released from her vision.
When she collapsed, Avi caught her, and asked, excitedly, “what did you see? Star! Oh, Star, what did you see?”
Ostarra took a few moments to breathe.
Ostarra took a few moments to pant like a pup.
And then she raised her head, though it seemed to take some effort, just as visions usually did to her. “They’re on the island. They’re definitely on the island. We have to get to them.”
Another moment passed.
Another two.
Another three.
And then Ocellia giggled, pumping her fist in the air. “I knew it!”
Their first hurdle… had become clear.
A first hurdle, but a known hurdle.
They knew exactly what they were doing.
Ocellia clapped her hands together, like she was yet another sealion bouncing a ball on the tip of her nose. “Step one, one, one is done, done, done! We’re so, so, so, so, so, so, so good at this!”
Giggling with agreement, Avi seemed to be filled with just as much glee, though that was hardly a surprise, really. They kicked up a cloud of sand, happily letting speckles bounce into the waves, painting crystalline water with little dots of gold.
“What next?” cooed Ocellia.
Instinctively, she and Avi both turned to Ostarra…
…who blinked and blinked and blinked.
And then turned to Ocellia.
“Ocellia,” said Ostarra, “can you get us across the lake?”
This time, Ocellia was the one who blinked and blinked and blinked at her two friends. “Do you wanna drown?” she asked plainly. “Because, um, I think I’m the only one who can breathe water just as well as I breathe air. I’m a special girl, you know.”
She fluffed her dark curls.
“How quick can you swim?” asked Avi, bouncing on the spot. “I mean, if it only takes a few seconds, I can hold my breath!”
Ocellia’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! We can try that!”
Ocellia then reached out, grabbing Avi by the hand, and her lips parted again, ready to excitedly thank her-very-best-friend-though-tied-with-Ostarra for their amazing, amazing, amazing idea.
And then Ostarra held up her hand. “No,” she said. “We will drown.”
Ocellia pouted.
A silly sort of pout.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really,” said Ostarra.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Ocellia,” said Ostarra flatly, “we’re doing something else, or me and Avi will, in fact, drown. We will really and actually drown. That’s a shitty idea. Don’t drown us, okay? Don’t even try it.”
Both Ocellia and Avi deflated.
But even Ocellia knew that maybe Ostarra was onto something.
“Damn,” said Ocellia, slumping like a ragdoll without bones.
Their first hurdle.
Impossible to overcome.
Their first hurdle.
Terrible to overcome.
Their first hurdle.
Annoying to overcome.
Terrible to overcome.
Evil to overcome.
Until.
Suddenly.
Ocellia remembered something.
She slapped her forehead with both hands at the very same time, though she had once bruised herself somewhat-badly by doing that. She slapped her forehead once again, just for good measure.
“Oh!” she laughed. “I can make you breathe underwater if I make out with you! I forgot about that!”
A moment passed.
A second passed.
A minute passed.
An hour passed.
A day passed.
A week passed.
A month passed.
A year passed.
A decade passed.
A century passed.
A millennium passed.
And Ostarra sighed the heaviest of sighs.
“Idiot,” she said. “Just kiss us both and get on with it.”
And so, their first hurdle had been overcome.
***
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Ocellia was in a small cage. Ocellia was in a small cage. Ocellia was in a small cage. Ocellia was in a small cage. Ocellia was in a small cage. Ocellia was in a small cage. Ocellia was in a small cage.
A cage made by fairies.
Evil fairies.
Terrible.
Horrible.
Evil fairies.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
How the fuck was she going to get out? How the fuck was she going to get out? How the fuck was she going to get out? How the fuck was she going to get out How the fuck was she going to get out? How the fuck was she going to get out How the fuck was she going to get out?
How—
Oh, fuck!
Ocellia straightened, and shouted at Avi and Ostarra through the bars, watching as they fought with the fairies that had attacked Ocellia and put her in that too-small, swinging birdcage.
“The butterflies are next to me!” shouted Ocellia. “They’re in the cage next to me! They’re in the cage next to me! They’re in the cage next to me! They’re in the cage next to me! They’re in the cage next to me! They’re in the cage next to me! They’re in the cage next to me!”
The fairies looked to Ocellia with hatred.
It was a shame, really.
They looked very cool.
With petal-skin and acorn-hats and pointed ears and spears made of seemingly whatever they could find, they made for quite the human-sized threats. Ocellia would interrogate them to find out all their wonderful secrets, if they hadn’t put her in a cage.
They probably wouldn’t give away too much, really.
Mermaids and fairies were sworn enemies, after all.
Some of them… seemed to be building a fire to cook Ocellia over.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Ocellia shook the bars of her cage, btu they didn’t weaken, simply making the cage tremble. “Let me out!”
“No!” laughed one of the fairies, exaggeratedly evil. “No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!”
Rude!
How very rude!
“Yes!” responded Ocellia, just as furious, banging on the wooden arms of the wooden cage, making it swing above Avi and Ostarra’s heads as they danced around and threw stars at the fairies. “You will let me out! You will let me out! You will let me out!”
One of the fairies made a gesture that was, decidedly, very rude.
But Ocellia didn’t have time to laugh…
…as Avi punched that fairy across the face, knocking it to the ground.
“Woo!” called Ocellia, rattling the cage.
Towering over the fairy, Avi panted for breath, before pointing down at the fairy with one pointy finger. “You’re mean! Let my friend go!”
Avi was promptly punched in the face next.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The fighting resumed.
Ostarra and Avi seemed to be losing.
And Ocellia rattled the bars of her cage, again and again and again.
“You can do it!” she shouted to her friends. “You can do it!”
They were losing. They were losing. They were losing.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
All of a sudden, Ostarra turned, and her throwing stars hit the last three fairies in the face, knocking them down with blood drip-drip-dripping down their heads. Within a few hours, they would be healed enough to pull out the weapons and get up again, but that would be when Ocellia and Ostarra and Avi were already long gone.
Avi yelped, watching the blood with wide, wide eyes.
Before they turned towards the cage that Ocellia hung in, and leapt towards it. They wrapped their hands around the bars… and found out that they could do so, as someone on the outside could do more than simply make the cage tremble, tremble, tremble.
Ocellia grinned at Avi. “Break the bars, Av-Av.”
A moment passed.
Two. Three.
And then Avi nodded firmly, brightness in their eyes.
Before they yanked off two of the bars, allowing Ocellia to easily bounce free and into Avi’s awaiting arms.
Affectionately, Ocellia smacked a sloppy kiss onto Avi’s cheek, before she hopped to the ground, turning to the cage that had hung beside hers: that which held the butterflies.
And the three teenagers stared at it with hands on hips.
As it was cursed with magic that made the bars impossible to touch.
***
“If we can’t open the cage,” said Ostarra, “what are we?”
All three of them stared into the cage.
The cage that needed a key, one that they did not have.
And the bars did not budge like Ocellia’s had.
Not an inch.
Their butterflies flapped pathetically inside.
“Still orphans,” said Ocellia, “but the boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring kind, you know? The most-boring of boring kinds.”
Avi pursed their lips, decidedly unhappy. “I don’t think we’d be boring, really, but… I think… I think we’d be missing out on something we’ve all always really wanted to do.”
A moment passed.
Two. Three.
The pause hung heavily in the air.
A heavy kind of pause that turned Ocellia’s beating heart into a messy bundle of pain and unease, before she straightened on he spot, puffing out her chest. “I don’t care.”
Ostarra and Avi snapped to look at her.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
And Ocellia repeated those words, as if they were some kind of life-changing revelation. “I don’t care. I… I don’t care? Yes. Yeah! No! I don’t care! I don’t actually, really fucking care!”
She laughed.
Like a maniac, she laughed.
“We can be heroes anyway! We can fight bad guys and kill bad guys and punch bad guys in the face! We can find dragons and save princesses and then eat the dragons with the princesses! We can see the whole, whole, whole, whole, whole, whole, whole world!”
Another moment passed.
Another two. Another three.
And then Avi’s eyes lit up, a purple so vibrant that they were like amethyst flames. They punched the air with their fist. “Yes! We can do this! We don’t need prophecies! We can see the world!”
Even Ostarra chuckled softly under her breath. “Yes, I guess we can see the world, if we want to. Who gives a shit about a few little—”
“Oh. My. Gods.”
Not Ocellia. Not Ostarra. Not Avi.
A fairy sat up. “Oh. My. Gods! You three are so annoying!” she hissed, getting to her feet and brushing away the blood on her face like it had never even affected her in the first place. “If I open that freaking cage, will you get out of our hairs?”
Ocellia and Ostarra and Avi gawked at her.
Gawked. Gawked. Gawked.
The fairy fluttered her wings, zoomed over to the birdcage, and tapped on the door in a pattern of three, letting it slowly slide open.
And that was when all the fairies disappeared.
And that was when the butterflies darted out of the cage.
And slammed right into their faces.
***
Fairies and treasure chests and dragons and living snowmen and tinmen and stormsicknesses and mermaids and emeralds and cannibals and gold and incubi and curses and sleeping spells and monsters and werewolves and vampires and diseases and body-snatchers and humans and scars and poisons and shields and hearts and fears and tears and true loves and silencing spells and shapeshifters and shadows and quests and quests and suns and moons and stars and weapons and circuses and dreams and watchers and liars and libraries and crystal balls and truth-tellers and goddesses and death and killers and fates and rotten corpses and souls and souls and time.
And souls.
And magic.
And quests.
And prophecies.
And more.
And more.
And more.
Until.
The.
Very.
End.
Of.
Time.
***
They were to be heroes together forever.
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