Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The room was silent.

A stillness so deep it seemed to swallow the world beyond its walls, as if the air itself had thickened, holding everything in a suspended moment of quiet anticipation. Time, it seemed, held its breath... waiting... waiting... waiting.

Then, a soft shuffle of cards broke the spell – a sound so faint it was barely more than a whisper. Gloved hands moved slowly, reverently, as if the cards themselves were fragile secrets. The flickering candlelight painted long shadows across the room, its soft glow reflecting off the golden bracelets on those hands, twinkling like distant stars in the dim. Beyond the fragile circle of light, darkness stretched endlessly, wrapping the room in its quiet, velvety embrace.

To predict the future with certainty? An impossibility, a fool’s errand. How could anyone hope to chart the exact ripple patterns left by raindrops in an ever-shifting, roaring sea? Every thought, every breath, every passing second held infinite potential. From the drifting of a single mote of dust caught in the candle's glow to the imperceptible motions of stars wheeling across the heavens far above the roof of this house – each choice mattered, spinning threads of possibility into the vast, unseen tapestry of existence.

The universe, balanced on the tip of a pin, swayed with every nudge, every decision. And yet, wasn't that the magic of it? The beauty lay not in knowing, but in the mystery – the unpredictability, the thrill of standing at the edge of possibility, never knowing where the next step might lead. The stars might trace their eternal paths, but the future? The future was a living, breathing puzzle – forever in motion, forever out of reach, not to be solved, but to be danced with. And in that dance, anything was possi–

“...Uh, did she do it yet?”

“Shh, we have to let her focus, Knuckles. I read once that these things take time and a lot of concentration…” 

“Oh, right… Sorry Amy…”

…

Amy couldn’t help but giggle, despite her exhaustion.

The day had been an absolute disaster. Sonic had completely botched the interview, his frustration spilling over before he bolted, leaving the rest of them to pick up the pieces. The pink hedgehog had been worried ever since – not even because Shadow had given chase, cackling with red Chaos energy, but because of how outright scary Sonic looked… 

Tails, always the calm voice of reason, assured her they hadn't gone far. Using his tech, he’d tracked Shadow’s Chaos energy, showing her that the Ultimate Lifeform had stopped in the nearby forest for a long while before heading toward the coast.

“And these days," Tails had muttered with a frown, his twin tails swishing slowly behind him as his eyes narrowed in thought, "wherever Shadow goes, Sonic is close behind.”

…Amy had felt a pit grow in her stomach at those words.

And now here they were, trying to make sense of it all. Amy, kneeling on the floor in front of the coffee table, had her cards, candles, and a bowl of water spread out in front of her, attempting something – anything – to bring clarity to the chaos. Knuckles and Tails sat on the couch, a bowl of grapes nestled between them that the echidna munched on cheerfully, despite the circumstances. Tails had his tablet on his lap, its glow the only other light source that illuminated the young fox’s face in an almost eerie fashion. They had spent the entire day dealing with the fallout – removing paparazzi from the Resistance's headquarters and assisting poor Jewel, who had been on the verge of a breakdown, in restoring order to the place. Eggman’s involvement, coupled with Sonic’s erratic behavior, had pushed everyone to their limits in worry…

She had almost cried. 

The stress over the past few days had nearly gotten to her, and she had to seclude herself momentarily to collect herself once Blaze ordered the three of them to take a break. It wasn’t her finest moment, but she was feeling stretched thin, torn between her loyalty and love for Sonic and his strange, unsettling changes lately. 

She didn’t know what to think anymore. This wasn’t like him. She knew that. The words he’d said in Jewel’s office when he had woken up, so cold and uncaring, couldn’t have come from the Sonic she’d known all these years. He would never talk about hurting Shadow like he did after the sparring match, and the way he had stared at her and Surge when he left the interview… She had chills just thinking about it. Sonic was kind. He was caring. Maybe he wasn’t always patient, but his heart had always been in the right place. He meant well – he always had. The hedgehog of her affections had never been altered, always a source of comfort. So why, now, did she doubt him…?

Amy's gaze wandered back to the flickering candles in front of her, their flames dancing with a soft, almost hypnotic crackle. The dim room felt heavier with each passing second, weighed down by her unanswered questions and the uncertainty that gnawed at her. She carefully picked up one of the candles by its base, tilting it just enough for the molten wax to drip into the water bowl before her. The hot liquid hissed slightly as it hit the cool surface, solidifying in delicate, abstract shapes that shimmered in the faint candlelight.

"This is called ceromancy," Amy explained tenderly, her voice barely more than a whisper as she watched the candle wax drift into the water, solidifying in delicate, unearthly shapes. Her ears twitched, her gaze intent on the swirling forms as if they might unlock some hidden truth. "There are a few different ways to read wax like this. It depends on the kind of candles you use or how you choose to interpret the shapes. But with this method, you focus on a question, something that’s been weighing on your mind... and whatever the wax looks like once it settles in the water..." She trailed off, tilting her head slightly as she traced the delicate lines with her gaze, the tiny spirals and pools forming something mysterious and otherworldly. "...It might just give us clues to the answer."

“I see… Can you tell us the question?” Knuckles cocked his head to the side slowly, his deep voice once more breaking the silence like a gentle breeze in its earnestness. Amy smiled sadly in response, her gaze lowering to the bowl in barely contained sorrow.

“A-Ah, well… It’s about Sonic…” Her expression softened, eyes clouding with a mix of worry and hope. “I just… I wanted to understand more about what was happening to him. To know if he’s still… um… Y’know…” 

Such doubts in her Hero made Amy deflate in shame. She continued regardless, her fingers tightening around the candleholder. 

“I believe in Sonic. I know something’s… wrong, and it’s not his fault! But… there have been so many little things he’s said and done. So many offhand comments, so many strange looks he’s given, moments where he feels like… a stranger… ” Setting the candleholder down with a shake of her head, Amy’s quills swayed softly as she looked between Knuckles and Tails carefully. “I guess I just needed a little… reassurance, you know…?”

"Well, you came to the wrong place for that.”

Without missing a beat, Knuckles’ response made the pink hedgehog pause in surprise. Stretching his legs out, the echidna cocked his head to the side before shrugging at her casually. Tails seemed equally intrigued by the behavior, his blue eyes leaving his screen to look at the Guardian in confusion by his bluntness.

“Hate to break it to you Amy, but I think we’re gonna need more than candles and cards to figure out what’s going on with Sonic,” Knuckles made a gesture towards the water bowl, as though challenging it to divulge in the mysteries it held. “The guy’s a terrible liar, at least when it comes to not making us worry, but he’s more stubborn than me. So unless you can hex him into sharing what’s on his mind, I don’t think this will help. He’s a moron.”

Amy gave a soft laugh at that, feeling some of her tension ease from Knuckles’ blunt honesty. She moved the water bowl to settle before her carefully, observing the way the movement altered the surface of the water. “That is true, but that’s why I’m doing this. These practices don’t actually give away answers, but they’re meditative. I think clearing our minds can help us approach Sonic on this topic in a way that won’t scare him into running away. When we all first met him, I thought he was someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, but that’s more you and me, Knuckles…”

“...That is true,” Tails murmured, sighing as he looked off to the side of the room with an unreadable expression on his face, his namesakes wrapped around him like a blanket. “Even now, when something is clearly wrong, and he knows that we know that, he skirts away from any real confrontation. He’s too used to being the one whose shoulder we lean on for support, and he doesn’t know how to accept support for himself. I keep letting him know that he can talk to me if he needs to, but it's just not working…”

Knuckles snickered, leaning against the couch’s arm with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Pfft, that’s Sonic, alright. If it doesn’t involve a fight or a race, he’d rather run circles around the problem until it takes care of itself. ‘Needing help’ might as well be a foreign concept to him.”

“He’s built a wall around himself…” Amy added with a small, sad smile on her face. “For someone who tells us all to ‘open our hearts’, I guess he’s just a hypocrite… But that’s why we love him, right? Warts and all. And none of that is even mentioning…”

She trailed off then, biting her lip as her ears flattened against her head slightly. Knuckles and Tails exchanged a look, and the atmosphere grew a bit darker as a certain dark hedgehog came to mind.

Shadow.

…

Amy couldn’t keep ignoring the concern she had for him.

Her poor friend, who since Sonic's recent behavior shift, seemed trapped in a haze that only those who truly knew him might detect. To most, Shadow's demeanor was as stoic as ever, but to Amy, his unease was clear as day. Every barbed remark Sonic made – whether cuttingly direct or subtly laced with aggression – seemed designed to chip away at Shadow’s defenses. Sonic’s taunts, his digs at G.U.N.’s dark history, and his increasingly pointed comments toward Shadow left Amy with a tight knot of worry deep in her stomach, twisting every time she saw her friend struggle to brush it off.

Shadow had come so far. In the beginning, his arrogance and biting snark hid a wounded sadness, a haunted loneliness that had struck Amy with a compassion that lingered long after their first encounter. When he was still burdened with confusion and rage, grappling with his own past, he’d nonetheless chosen to defend their world against the Black Arms. In doing so, it felt like a part of his anguish had been left behind in the ashes of that battle. Over the years, that shadowed armor seemed to soften, and little by little, he began to open up. To see him now – to see him smile, maybe even laugh, to join her for tea, to enjoy concerts, to spend afternoons at Cream and Vanilla's house, to share his own interests of coffee, reading, writing, and fascination with life on Earth – was a joy she had once thought impossible.

Beneath that steely exterior was a quirky, thoughtful soul, a side of Shadow she cherished deeply. Gaining his trust had been a quiet victory, one she valued more than words could express.

Her poor, very dear friend.

The past week, something had shifted.

Sonic and Shadow clearly had a romantic interest in each other. The kiss, Sonic’s bashfulness about gift-giving, Tails telling her they spent the night together, the looks and words she’d overheard at so many social gatherings… It was all very sweet. Whatever hurdle they’d overcome recently, however, did not bring them closer. Instead, Sonic’s new demeanor seemed to push Shadow into a guarded, almost skittish place that she hadn’t seen in years. 

A frown tugged at Amy’s lips as she pondered this. She hadn’t yet had a chance to ask Rouge about her thoughts on Shadow’s behavior, but the bat’s frustration was made known during Tails’ test just yesterday. In only a few days, what was troubling Shadow had worn down even Rouge’s usual calm exterior…

…

Did Rouge know something Amy didn’t–?

“--my? Hello?” 

Oh. Right. 

Suddenly, her thoughts scattered as the lights overhead flickered on, casting away the darkness as she blinked rapidly to adjust her vision. She hadn’t noticed that Tails had stood up to stand near the switch, a neutral expression on his face as his ears twitched. 

“I just got a message from Rouge,” the fox spoke firmly as he clutched his tablet to his chest. “She managed to get her hands on a Chaos Emerald. She should be back here the day after tomorrow.” 

“Tch, knowing her she had one stored away in her closet at her house,” Knuckles huffed, a wry look in his eyes that contrasted with the hopeful way he spoke. “That’s good, though. If anything can reverse the effects of that serum, it’s the Emeralds. They’ve pulled us through bigger messes before.”

Amy clasped her hands together joyfully, looking at the inventor happily. “So… it’d be like setting his Chaos energy back to neutral, right? So we won’t see this behavior again?”

…

Tails straightened up, one eye twitching slightly, an involuntary response Amy caught in an instant. She blinked slowly, observing the subtle tension etched into his frame.

"Yes. This will be the end of this mess. Sonic hasn't done anything rash that can't be fixed. Eggman’s plans will, as always, come to nothing, and we'll finally get a chance to breathe... at least until his next ridiculous scheme."

…

Amy almost regretted her attentiveness, her knack for picking up on the little tells in her friends’ voices and movements. Though Tails sounded calm, his words came out stiffly, each one measured. His tails flicked with barely restrained restlessness, giving him away; his grip on the tablet had tightened until his knuckles blanched, and his smile was stretched just a bit too thin.

She held her breath, the sense of unease settling deeper. Sonic and Tails were brothers, sharing a bond forged through shared adventures and near-impossible challenges. But they also shared the tendency to shoulder burdens alone, pushing down their struggles until they frayed at the edges. And in this moment, Amy could see it – a strain running through Tails' usual composure.

…

…

…

Enough. She was done with ignoring the truth beneath the surface.

“Knuckles, Tails, there’s something I need to ask both of you…”

From his spot on the couch, Knuckles lifted an eyebrow, his posture shifting slightly. Tails’ forced smile wavered, and his shoulders slumped, a flicker of weariness showing through his carefully neutral mask. “Is this… urgent?” he asked, his voice steady, but his eyes held a cautious glint, betraying the slightest hint of apprehension. Amy stood up slowly, patting down her signature dress before a determined look made her green eyes sparkle. When neither of her friends spoke, she took it as the opportunity she needed to continue. 

Redirecting her focus to the fox entirely, she nodded quickly.

“We’ve all been feeling it, haven’t we? How things have changed... how Sonic has changed.” Amy's voice softened, yet her words cut through the silence with unmistakable clarity. She looked at Tails, eyes filled with understanding. “And yes, I know it’s Eggman’s serum. But, Tails... there’s clearly something weighing on you that you haven’t shared with us.”

Knuckles shifted, his gaze moving thoughtfully between his friends as the weight of Amy's statement settled in the room. Tails’ ears flicked back, and his eyes dropped, a faint twitch betraying the conflict hidden beneath his usual stoic expression.

“...I’m just worried. Tired.” His voice was almost a whisper, but it carried a weariness that felt heavier than his years. “Aren’t we all…?”

Amy nodded gently, stepping around the coffee table to stand by his side. She kept her stance open, not wanting him to feel trapped but needing him to know he wasn’t alone in this. “But this feels like more than just worry, Tails, doesn’t it?” she pressed, her tone gentle yet resolute. “You’ve been leading us through this whole thing, figuring out everything about the serum, guiding us, helping us understand what we’re up against. We trust you, Tails. Always have, always will.”

Tails looked up at her, a glimmer of vulnerability flickering in his eyes before he looked away, jaw set with stubborn resolve. But Amy could see through the facade, the strain that weighed on him more heavily than he’d ever let on.

“It’s alright if you’re scared,” she murmured, her voice soft yet unyielding. “You don’t have to carry this on your own. We’re here to help you, however you need us…”

Her words seemed to reach him in a way nothing else had. Tails took a step back, wide eyes meeting hers, searching, his expression wavering between relief and a fear he could no longer hide. Realizing he’d let his guard slip, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. Unlike his brother, he couldn’t maintain a facade when prodded enough…

“I… Silver mentioned something that’s been on my mind.” His voice was a whisper, tinged with frustration and doubt. “I don’t think he’s right, and I don’t even want to consider it…” His fingers tightened around the tablet until his knuckles turned white, his head bowing as if to shield himself from the weight of his own thoughts.

“But… what if the Chaos Emerald doesn’t do the trick?” he whispered, barely audible, the words filled with a raw, aching vulnerability. “What if… I’m just wasting time, and he only gets worse? And if I fail… then it’s on me. It’s all on me…”

Amy’s heart twisted at his admission, every word revealing the weight he bore alone. But before she could offer her reassurances, Knuckles’ chuckle cut through the tension.

“You know what, Tails?” Knuckles said, smirking. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it won’t work, and maybe everything you’ve done so far has just been delaying the inevitable.”

“Knuckles!” Amy gasped, her eyes narrowing in shock as she saw Tails flinch, his face paling. For a second, she felt the familiar impulse to summon her hammer, ready to teach Knuckles a lesson on tact. But the echidna raised a hand, still smiling, and continued in a gentler tone.

“Just because that might be true,” he said, his gaze softening, “doesn’t make it your fault, bro.”

Tails looked up, confused, as Knuckles stood and crossed his arms over his chest, a surprising calm radiating from him as he glanced between them. “The one thing I know how to do is punch things, and that won’t snap Sonic out of the mess he’s in. You’re the one who gets machines, and that serum isn’t exactly Chaos energy, so of course, finding a cure is going to be hard. But you’ve done more than any of us have.”

In his own way, the Guardian was just trying to help.

…

Those tears that had been fought off early were threatening to grow again.

Amy’s anger ebbed away, replaced by a gentle warmth as she rested her hand on Knuckles’ arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Knuckles… you being here, leaving your home and the Master Emerald, that’s enough,” she murmured, her tone soft.

The echidna shifted uncomfortably, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged. Even after all these years, accepting open affection still made him fidget. “Yeah, well… Tails, you’re not the only one worried. Sonic’s my friend, Amy’s friends, Silver and Blaze and Vector’s and just… everyone else’s friend too. And maybe I can’t fix this, but I can stay here and help you guys out however I can.”

“I… you guys…”

Tails stood there, shoulders shaking as his wide blue eyes watered visibly, shocking Amy and Knuckles into stunned silence. The inventor quickly rubbed his face as he stepped closer, a genuine smile of gratitude forming on his muzzle. 

In moments of uncertainty, perhaps all Tails needed was reassurance.

“Thank you… both of you,” he whispered, his resolve slipping as he let himself feel the weight of their support. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys. It… means the world to me.”

Knuckles reached over, giving Tails a firm, reassuring pat on the head, ruffling his bangs in a way that made the younger one giggle. “Hey, you’re not alone in this,” he said with a gruff sincerity that softened his tone. “We’re in it together, alright? And you’re doing great, Tails. Better than you know.”

Amy smiled at them both, her cheeks warming as anticipation and adoration blossomed in her chest. Before anyone could react, she giggled and threw her arms around them, pulling them into a tight group hug that nearly knocked the three over. “C’mere, you two!”

Tails laughed, the sound bubbling up with relief as he squeezed them back, while Knuckles instantly flushed, sputtering as he awkwardly put his large hands on their backs. “Alright, alright… no need to get all mushy,” he mumbled, but he didn’t pull away. Amy giggled and squeezed the two tighter, blinking away her sad tears as they swayed.

“We all know Sonic. Like you said, Knuckles, he’s more stubborn than you!” Amy laughed, her voice warm and unwavering. “And that means he won’t accept our help right away, but it also means he won’t let any of Eggman’s schemes change who he is.”

Tails’ ears twitched at her words, a hint of his unease fading as he nodded in agreement. One conversation couldn’t banish his fears, but their unity gave him a strength he hadn’t felt in weeks. “Then we’ll keep going, no matter what. We’ll be there for him – not because we know how this ends, but because he’d do no different for us.”

“Exactly.” Knuckles smirked, his arm wrapping firmly around Tails and Amy’s shoulders as he steadied them with a reassuring huff. “And if I have to knock some sense into him, so be it! We’re not losing anyone to this… especially not Sonic of all people.”

The three friends stood close, bound by shared determination, their words lifting the heavy air around them. They clung to that hope, letting the warmth of their friendship drown out the creeping uncertainty. Together, they knew they could face anything

Nestled in the arms of her closest friends, Amy felt relieved…

…

…

…

The form the wax had taken – a subtle clue gifted by the universe that would guide Amy toward a deeper understanding of Sonic and his circumstances – would later puzzle the pink hedgehog deeply as she went to clean up her candles, water, and wax…

The moon.

The shape was of the moon.

—

In the digital chamber, clarity should be her constant companion.

Rows and rows of data floated and refracted in a radiant spectrum, fading in and out in complex patterns, with the colors casting glimmers across the vast, seamless expanse. Each file, every fragment of information, was a mere thought away, available at her whim. A single command could summon blueprints dating back decades, a labyrinth of old, scrapped machines that had never seen the light beyond her Father’s vaults. A mere desire would bring forth thousands of perspectives as her Father’s machines patrolled Eggman’s fortress ship and hidden factories across the world.

This treasure trove of knowledge, her playground and sanctuary, felt both tangible and dreamlike, a home within a home that left her floating in an odd stasis of understanding and confusion. The colors of her form cycled softly – black and red, white and blue – her data shifting subtly as a frown appeared on her face.

Her Father’s latest plan gnawed at her with an unsettling ambiguity. She knew he and Metal Sonic had left for a field test, to trap the so-called Hero of Earth, but the method, the pace, and the purpose of the operation left her questioning. She had watched the footage from G.U.N. a million times over, examining it through every analytic lens she possessed down to the fraction of a millisecond. She had met Sonic on opposing sides countless times at this point, and he was a hedgehog who could be driven to the brink, yet would never lose his center. Enduring countless battles and emerging unscathed in spirit, if not always in body. That was the Sonic the Hedgehog Sage knew.

But what she saw that day in Central City was… something else. No data she accessed could match it; even the files regarding the “Werehog” incident from the Dark Gaia event didn’t align. That transformation had held no sign of the instability or raw unpredictability she observed now. She felt like she was piecing together a puzzle with missing fragments, with data she couldn’t quite touch or fully understand. For once, the meticulous logic of data couldn’t provide her with clarity.

A sigh – an entirely unnecessary act, yet one that conveyed her frustration – escaped her. In a flash of light, she dove through the endless streams of data, sailing past cascading codes and image feeds of the facility as she searched for the one person who could answer her questions…

…

…

…

There.

With a sweep of her hand, Sage closed her eyes and focused, sending a command through the room’s circuitry to project herself. She pressed her will into the machines surrounding her Father’s workspace, taking form as a hologram with ease. He’d designed nearly every inch of the facility to accommodate her presence, allowing her to appear in any room without hindrance. In a steady glow of light, she materialized, her dress flowing gently in a breeze that didn’t exist, her luminous eyes blinking open to take in her surroundings.

Her Father was at his workbench, completely absorbed in the delicate adjustments he was making to Metal Sonic’s arm, using a thin laser that flickered and hissed with precision. The room was dim, lit only by scattered control panels and the faint gleam of Metal Sonic’s crimson eyes. He sat motionless, obediently awaiting Eggman’s next move, but his gaze flickered to her the moment her form solidified. There was no change in his expression, as expected, yet she sensed a familiar acknowledgment in his silent, unwavering stare.

A subtle smile touched her face as she took in the familiar sight.

“Father,” she spoke softly, hovering just above the floor. Her voice was calm, measured, with a hint of warmth as she inclined her head in a respectful bow. “Apologies for the interruption…”

Eggman paused his work, barely glancing over his shoulder, but his eyes sparked with curiosity as he registered her presence. “Sage,” he replied with his usual gruff tone, his hands still busy fine-tuning Metal’s circuitry, though she caught the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “You’re never interrupting, my dear. You know that!”

Sage tilted her head, observing him with a watchful gaze. “...You should take a break, Father. If you maintain that posture for another seven minutes, I predict you’ll experience back pain when you awaken tomorrow. You’re not as young as the day you made me. You should take care of yourself.”

Eggman’s smile slipped, his brow furrowing as he let out a grumble, finally tossing his wrench onto the worktable with a huff. Sage giggled softly as he groaned, begrudgingly straightening up. The gray hairs at his temples and the lines etched across his face had grown more pronounced, signs of the years and the unyielding pace he kept, despite his age. Sage respected his relentless drive for invention and his unending battle with Sonic, but that didn’t mean he could ignore the value of a well-timed break. As she watched, Metal Sonic flexed his newly repaired arm experimentally, his crimson eyes turning to Eggman, awaiting approval. The Doctor nodded after a beat, and Metal dutifully settled himself back onto the bench, his gaze following Eggman with silent vigilance.

Eggman finally turned to Sage, stretching his back with a dramatic huff before twirling a hand through his mustache absentmindedly. “Enough about my posture! Surely you’re not here just to remind me to stretch, are you? You’ve been looking at me expectantly for days…”

Sage’s expression softened, though her gaze stayed sharp, analyzing her father’s reactions as if each microexpression held a clue. She clasped her hands together, the faint hum of machinery filling the room as she took a steadying breath. Her gaze flickered, catching her reflection in Eggman’s eyes – something both familiar and distant.

“Yes... Tomorrow, at precisely 8 AM, in Station Square… One of your favorite places to attack, it seems…” Her voice held a thoughtful weight. “I’ve analyzed the timing, location, and every layer of your objectives, Father. After running through the projected outcomes, I predict…” She paused, data rushing through her mind, colors flashing across her vision in intricate, intricate webs. “A ninety-nine point nine percent chance of success. The strategy is... nearly flawless.”

The Doctor leaned back in his seat, clearly relishing her words, a self-satisfied grin lighting up his face. But even in his smugness, he noticed the lingering hesitation in her voice, the slight furrow of her brow as she finished her assessment. His eyes narrowed behind his gleaming glasses as he tilted his head, clearly intrigued. “Something else on your mind, my dear?”

Sage turned slightly, hovering closer to Metal Sonic, who sat silent and still, a shadow of the hero he was built to mirror. She ran a hand thoughtfully through her pale hair in a gesture that almost mirrored the way Eggman played with his mustache. “I’m... confused, Father.”

“Confused?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. With a small, beckoning motion of his hand, he encouraged her to go on. She exhaled, her hands finding purchase on the table, her gaze sharpening as she studied Metal’s impassive features.

“Your plan for tomorrow feels… almost small, compared to your previous designs. You’ve orchestrated planetary takeovers, built entire armies of machines with devastating potential, each scheme bigger than the last. Yet this... this approach is subtle. A set of building blocks in order to make a whole I can’t quite see.” Sage’s eyes narrowed as she sifted through file after file, memories of grand invasions and towering fortresses flashing in her mind, each more direct than the quiet intentions he’d outlined. “You mentioned seeing something similar to Sonic’s current… affliction before, but I’ve combed through every archived file, Father. Nothing quite like the change we’ve seen in Sonic is in your records–”

Eggman let out a low, knowing chuckle, and Sage’s thoughts stilled, her attention snapping back to him. The chuckle grew into a boisterous laugh, his frame shaking with a joy she couldn’t fully understand. Startled, she blinked, taking in his wide, delighted grin as he leaned eagerly over the bench.

“Aha, ohohoho! Sage, my dear, this isn’t about mere size or spectacle!” His eyes sparkled with something almost conspiratorial. “This is about legacy. A good legacy needs the right kind of stain… something that seeps in slowly, inescapably, without needing to announce itself.” He adjusted his gloves with a flourish, clearly savoring the mystery of his words, as if the thrill of imparting a deeper lesson held more power than any direct answer.

Sage shook her head, brow furrowed in thought. “...Legacy?” She wasn’t quite seeing it, the pieces were still out of place. “But… does Sonic even care about that sort of thing, Father? Isn’t he more focused on just... doing good? Regardless of what anyone thinks?”

Eggman laughed louder, the sound bouncing off the metallic walls, a wave of both pride and mockery in his voice. Mockery she knew was not directed towards her, but instead towards the person of her Father’s loathing.

“Oh, Sage, whether or not he cares is hardly the point.”

Eggman stood up abruptly, looming over the bench with gleeful energy, waving off Sage’s unspoken question. Already absorbed in his work, he moved to a box in the corner, rummaging through it with renewed enthusiasm. “Now, enough of that. I have a few final adjustments to make to Metal’s armor! And don’t worry, I won’t be up for much longer. As they say – the early bird kills the worm! Ohohohoho!”

“...R-Right…” Sage lingered, watching him perplexedly before her gaze shifted to Metal. The robotic doppelgänger stared back with his familiar, unchanging red eyes, his expression as steely and unreadable as ever. She felt her determination waver, her Father’s words still puzzling her. As much as she tried to understand him, Eggman’s mind remained an enigma, his love of theatrics kept her in suspense. Resigned, she readied herself to disappear, to dive into the files again, seeking some semblance of clarity.

But then, Metal moved in a way that made her pause.

Slowly, he raised a clawed hand to his face, rubbing just below his nose in a gesture that was all too familiar – one that mirrored Sonic himself. It was subtle but unmistakable, a mannerism Sage had seen in countless records of the blue hedgehog. The robot before her rarely did it, and yet the emotion it conveyed was unmistakable.

Metal was amused.

…

She could not read the fighting robot’s mind the way she could every other machine her Father created. It was open to her access, of course, but it wasn’t as simple as the common Egg Pawn or Egg Warrior. One night, upon self-reflection, she had found her own mind to be something similar, unable to be read so mundanely. Sage liked to categorize Metal as a kindred spirit in that regard, one who reflected more of Sonic than most anticipated. 

And despite their allegiances, she was fond of Sonic. Organic or machine, it made her smile. 

…

A ninety-nine point nine percent chance of success.

…

Her red and black shifted to white and blue as a frown of concern settled on her young face. Even if she did not require sleep, time was against her now, and she’d have very little time to contemplate that point one percent of failure…

—

The landscape stretched out with a disquieting stillness.

It was a place balanced between beauty and decay. 

The edge of the forest, where towering trees surrendered to a steep, rocky slope that descended sharply away from the river of black, winding downhill like a ribbon of silver and obsidian. The water coursed forward in swift, silent movements, carrying whispers of forgotten foliage to the vast ocean to which it connected. Below the slope, a jagged cliff jutted defiantly over the boundless sea, raised high in the air, its edges chipped and crumbling. It, too, was on the verge of surrendering to the endless depths.

Above, the moon loomed in surreal prominence, casting a ghostly shimmer over the land below. It hung in the sky like a wounded pearl, its surface marred by the destruction is bored so many years ago at the hands of man. Its pale luminescence bathed the ocean, turning each ripple into a glimmer of quiet sorrow, an eternal vigil of its eternal wound. The only sound was the faint lap of waves against the rocks far below, accompanied by the occasional rustle of leaves from the surrounding nature. No wind stirred the air; even the trees seemed to hold their breath, frozen in reverence. It was as though the Earth herself bore witness to something unspeakable, mourning for her celestial sister…

…

…

…

Such dramatic thoughts…

Am I dying?

Hunched over the riverbank, the hero grit his teeth as he forced his arm beneath the icy surface, his shakey breaths visible with each and every exhale that tore its way out of him. The shock of the cold shot up his spine, shredding his nerves, and he couldn’t hold back the hiss in his dry throat as his muscles tensed against the bite of the water. His fur clung damply to his skin, slick and dark under the cover of twilight, and, despite the chill, he was sweating. Beads gathered on his brow, slipping down his temples as he fought to steady his breathing, to steady the pulse hammering in his ears.

The makeshift bandage he had haphazardly slapped together in desperation, made from strips of bark and leaves and mud, was barely holding beneath the river’s onslaught. The dull, gnawing ache refused to quiet down, and he feared what the wound looked like. Being squeamish about injuries wasn’t exactly a feeling he was used to… But the idea of looking made his nausea deepen. Every throb seemed to sap his strength his vision flickering at the edges as fatigue weighed heavily again. His reflection stared up at him from the dark, rippling surface – a haunted, pale face, much like the moon above. Sonic felt like his entire being balanced between the steady ache of the injury and the frozen numbness the river offered. When was the last time he felt such fatigue down to his very bones…?

Green eyes flickered to the reflection of the moon on the water…

…

A reminder of past promises…

A reminder of death.

…

…

…

“...Man… I’m so, ugh, dramatic… ” 

The hero’s lips twisted into a grimace, lingering a beat too long on his muzzle. With a slow, deliberate shake of his head, Sonic rose from the riverbank slowly. His usually speedy perception was making him dizzy as he felt each droplet of water fall painfully slow down his injured arm, his senses overstimulated as adrenaline refused to let him relax. He had been like this for hours, teetering on the edge of consciousness…

Sonic looked over his shoulder toward the cliffside, swaying. 

Shadow the Hedgehog was sitting there. Had the moon not been there, offering her brilliant light, the Ultimate Lifeform would’ve been lost against the backdrop of a starless sky. His head was tilted toward the fractured moon, and his fur and quills were cast in a beautiful white, one that reminded of Sonic of the other’s Super form. One of Shadow’s hands was outstretched, as though wishing to hold the moon in his palm… Instead, black Chaos energy engulfed his hand, the energy cracking and pulsing along his body, barely contained. The appendage and connecting shoulder shook, as if something within him strained for release… 

Or for restraint. 

Shadow sat there, shaking beneath the broken celestial glow above and the ocean’s pull below.

Sonic watched him, green eyes unblinking as a peculiar, creeping smile stretched across his muzzle. His boyfriend had been sitting there, unmoving and shivering, since they arrived hours ago, leaving Sonic to tend to his injury and fight unconsciousness all on his own. Even if the hero felt like a simple shove would knock him out, he longed for the agent’s company, already so bored of the solitude and tension radiating off of the Ultimate Lifeform forcibly. 

He longed to close their distance, to take in every detail of the other’s expression. Even now, with the edges of his vision wavering, with the landscape blurring enough to make his head spin, he missed Shadow. Only a few paces away, and he missed him so much. 

Watching him from afar would not satisfy Sonic the Hedgehog any longer.

With a careful, almost languid step forward, the hero moved. Despite the unsteady sway that betrayed his aching body and blurred focus, his approach held a predatory quality, the gleam in his eyes sharp enough to cut through the sickness twisting in his stomach. Red sneakers fell soundlessly over the grass, and as he drew closer, his smile deepened. The weight of Shadow’s silence, the palpable rage radiating off of him, only fed the blue hedgehog’s fascination. 

Finally, he closed the distance, positioning himself close to Shadow, just behind and slightly to the side. His rival didn’t make any sort of acknowledgment, the dark Chaos still dancing around his shaking hand, and Sonic took a moment to watch the black flames closely. The pressure that lingered in the air was heavy, but the hero couldn’t help but savor it. He was so bored, though, so with a voice that was so unsettlingly soft given the circumstances, he broke that fragile silence with a murmur. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ah… how cliche… 

He couldn’t help the mirth that nearly bubbled out of him in the form of a laugh when he saw the way Shadow’s shoulders tensed, the way the Chaos only intensified in its ferocity. Unfazed, the hero rested his uninjured hand on his hip with an air of feigned ease, as if the hostility was as natural as the breeze.

It was feigned, nonetheless. 

Sonic’s unsteady gaze drifted to the ocean’s dark expanse, where the horizon blurred seamlessly into the night sky and the waves churned below. The world seemed to sway beneath him, his vision tilting as exhaustion clawed at his mind. He swallowed against the sickness rising in his throat, his arm throbbing painfully, but still forced a crooked smile to stretch wider across his face – a strange mask of defiance against… nothing. 

Maybe it was the sheer stubbornness that kept him standing. Or maybe it was curiosity. 

“...You know,” he began, voice almost casual as he fought to steady it, “when I said I’d take you on a seaside date, I pictured it being a bit more… romantic… Heh…” He chuckled, despite the sweat slicking his palms beneath his gloves, feeling every heartbeat in his aching arm.

He knew Shadow could hear him. As much as Shadow would deny it, Sonic had come to understand even the smallest signals his boyfriend gave away – the barely-there twitch of those ears, the subtle shift of his posture, things that spoke volumes to Sonic now. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing; what he’d give to reach out and stroke those twitching ears, feel the way they softened against his touch… But the lingering silence made him raise an eyebrow, intrigue simmering as he tried to catch any sign from the other. His smile wavered slightly, giving way to a softer tone laced with just a touch of concern.

“…If you’re still hung up on what happened earlier, don’t be,” Sonic insisted, forcing a lightheartedness to his voice, though it wavered with raw and sincere energy. “Water under the bridge, right? It’s all in the past now. And hey, look at me – I’m still here! Like Tails said after Station Square got thrown into a watery Hell, ‘All’s well that ends well! ’ Am I right?” He chuckled, though it faded into a more thoughtful sound. “I kinda miss when he was more like that… silly and optimistic!”

“...Why did you make me lie to him?”

Sonic’s laughter died instantly, the words catching him off guard. Shadow’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet so harshly it almost physically jolted him. His stance faltered.

“I… wha…?” The blue hedgehog stumbled stupidly on his words, blinking rapidly when Shadow finally turned his head to glare at him coldly. 

“The other day, when you snuck into my room, after the meeting we had in the Restoration leader’s office,” the striped hedgehog’s voice was hoarse from the strain. Sonic's supposed frantic screaming would cause that, even for Ultimate Lifeform. “You begged me to lie to him. To your brother. That you had this under control… That you weren’t hearing things…” 

…

The hero made a face, one he couldn’t describe with how the cold was making his face numb. It was enough of an expression to make Shadow pause though, the Ultimate Lifeform’s glare widening into an odd look in and of itself,  and that alone made pleasure swell in his gut. 

“What are you talking about?” He lifted his good hand to rub beneath his nose, glancing towards the moon with a hum of thought. “I seem to recall you telling me to only tell Tails what he needed to know. How is that lying when I followed your advice?” 

“...After that. Before we went to see him. You begged me to tell him that you were no longer hearing voices. You wanted to make him feel better and relax, to not worry…” Shadow broke eye contact slowly, looking off toward the obscured horizon, his hands clasped together on his lap as his legs hung over the side of the cliff. “Doing what you told me to, and everything else, has been one huge mistake...” 

Before Sonic could even reply, jaw already slack with unworded protest, Shadow cut him off again, his words like a knife.

“Once I finish burning up this artificial Chaos, you’re on your own,” he growled, each word laced like poison as he refused to look at the hero again. “I’m leaving.”

…

…

…

The world steadied itself for but a moment. 

Sonic’s leer hardened, a frown twisting his pale muzzle deeply as sweat continued to build on his knitted brow. 

“Leave?” He echoed gently, though his face gave way to darker intentions that Shadow could not see. “You want to leave? Why?”

It was difficult to see Shadow’s expression from this angle, coupled with the gloom that hugged them tightly, but those ears flattened against the other’s skull readily as he turned his head away more. It looked as though Shadow might crumble under the weight of his own words, unable to face his boyfriend like this…

Shadow didn’t believe in that statement.

He didn’t know what he wanted.

Show him what he wants.

…

Sonic licked his lips. 

“Shadow,” Sonic drawled as he carefully crouched down on his heels, eyes bulging as he swayed a bit toward the cliff’s edge. He was aware enough to maintain balance, at least for now, and he knew he needed to get into his rival’s space. He didn’t know why. He didn’t care. “Since when has anything you’ve ever done been enough to keep me down?” He folded his good arm over his knees as he sat on his heels, tail wagging weakly behind him as he observed the other’s quills flex unconsciously. 

“You’re acting like the world’s ending, and yet you’re thinking about such boring things…” Sonic’s green eyes glided between the arch of Shadow’s quills, down the tense line of his back, lingering on his tail for just a beat too long. He was tired – achingly so – but he couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop from being pulled into the small details that defined Shadow’s silhouette. “Yeah, what happened hurt. And yeah, maybe I’m not exactly at my best right now.” Sonic’s words rolled out lazily, a stark contrast to the turmoil painted across Shadow’s frame. “But I’m fine. A little sleep, and all of this… it’s nothing. By morning, we’ll put it behind us.”

Shadow’s shoulders lifted, fur bristling defensively as his fists clenched against his thighs. His entire form trembled, unable to contain the tension boiling beneath his skin. Slowly, he turned his head just enough to catch Sonic in his gaze, his voice breaking in harsh disbelief. “How can you talk like that? I… I almost…” His voice faltered, the words lingering painfully in the air. “How do you not care?”

Sonic shrugged, as casually as his weary body would allow, his eyes still fixed on Shadow with an almost uncanny calm. “You almost did, sure. But you didn’t. You stopped when it mattered, and that’s what counts.”

“...You’re lucky to even be here right now, hedgehog,” the hybrid snarled weakly in response, and Sonic could not help but laugh.

What a crazy thought. Sonic? Not being here?

Please.

“Me and Luck are like… best friends, Shads.” Sonic waved his hand airily, his grin widening. “She follows me around. Kinda sweet on me, y’know? I water her plants on Sundays, and in turn, she lets me stick around and pester you. Pretty sweet gig, if you ask me! So don’t get your hopes up.”

Shadow stared at him, dumbfounded, mouth slightly open as he searched Sonic’s face for any hint of seriousness. This only made the hero cackle some more, and his eye twitched when his companion muttered something about ‘blood loss’ under his breath with a wrinkled muzzle.

It didn’t matter. 

Shadow couldn’t leave. 

Sonic had to prevent that. 

He needed Shadow to stay – he couldn’t let him slip away, not now. Not after so much progress. But with his body weakened, any real force was out of the question. All his rival had to do was shove him aside and he’d be unable to stop him… No, he’d need a different approach. Less overt. A way to keep Shadow close without giving him a reason to push away…

…Before things took a turn earlier, they both had been in a state of… ecstasy… 

Smile softening, the blue blur leaned in casually, bringing his face close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off Shadow’s cheek. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly along the edge of Shadow’s shoulder, his fingers tracing a line down his arm. The touch was gentle, almost too soft, like a whisper that lingered a bit too long. “Look, all I’m saying is… it’s a shame you’re so quick to run off over something like this. I really don’t hold it against you, y’know,” he murmured, his voice light but holding an undercurrent that made his words cling to the air. Gloved fingers drifted back up, reaching the edge of Shadow’s neck, where his thumb brushed along the sleek fur there, almost absentmindedly. 

“You really think I’d let a little… bite push me away? You’re not scary, Shadow…”

He could see Shadow’s jaw tighten, but he didn’t pull away – maybe it was the exhaustion that kept him rooted in place, his breaths shallow as Sonic’s hand lingered near his pulse. This close, any mask the other tried to wear was useless, his red eyes wide in such a way that they looked wet with tears in the moonlight. Sonic’s voice dropped, his words slipping through the dark, a faint glint in his eye. “Y’know… You might be dangerous, and you might now trust yourself, but…” His thumb brushed again, more firmly this time. “I’ve never been more sure that I know everything about you.”

“...S-Sonic,” Shadow managed barely more than a whimper, and he was clearly puzzled .  

Sonic wasn’t making the most sense and he knew it. There wasn’t much thought behind his words now, his mouth just running off on its own, leaving him in the dust… But he didn’t mind it. When one’s reality felt like it was on the cusp of collapse, then one’s true colors would be shown.

Unable to stifle the purr rumbling low in his chest, Sonic’s quills swayed slightly, casting long shadows across his face as he turned his gaze to the moon above them. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Shadow’s reaction, a hint of satisfaction in the slight flinch that ran through him.

Sonic leaned even closer, letting his gaze drift back, each word laced with a mocking familiarity, eyes focused on the moon above. Such a marvel, how those broken pieces didn’t come crashing to the Earth below. “I think I’ve survived worse things from you, Faker. And despite today, or whatever could happen tomorrow, my offer’s still standing… freedom. Waking up, as you put it. Wherever we want, away from it all… We can travel to every corner of the planet, and see everything she has to offer. Together… We’ll save some people here and there, but nothing else will hold us back…” He tilted his head as he looked back to his rival, their noses brushing in a gesture both tender and unnervingly close, and he felt Shadow’s sharp, startled intake of breath – a sound that filled him with a thrill greater than any victory or thrill-seeking rush. He couldn’t help the smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned in, closer still.

“Let’s just rest tonight,” he whispered, his voice barely a murmur, but thick with intent. “Then tomorrow, let’s run. Together. Just you and me, and we’ll never look back. Doesn’t that sound… nice?”

Shadow’s gaze wavered, his breath hitching as Sonic’s fingers grazed his lips, lingering there like a soft threat. His teeth clenched, jaw taut against the gentleness of the touch, something in his eyes flickering dangerously between resistance and resignation. Panic was rising in his chest again, and his ears flattened against his skull harshly. “Sonic, you’re… you’re acting like none of it matters,” he protested again, his voice low, rough, as if the words themselves cost him. “Like our duties, our purpose… we can’t just walk away from it all. You know that. You do. I don’t know why you’re so hung up on this, but we can’t just change our lives in an instant…” 

Red eyes lowered to Sonic’s bad arm.

D̸̢̢̧̛̺̗̠͖̟̳̰̜̠̙̜͍̱̳͈͆͊̿̃͋̒ơ̵̢͙̘̥̬̬̰̫̮̜̥̬͕̺͉̰̜̂̎́̀͂͑̂͑́̄͆̂̈́͛̇̆̋̊̏̂̕ͅň̵̛̗̑̏̔ț̴̨̯̱͐͋̒͗͐͐l̶̢̢̨̺̣̭̗̘̭̳̮͈̈́̒̋̔̊̎͗̉͗̎́̽̀̐̿̐͋̓̍̌͋̄̀͘̕͠ơ̵̧̻̜̙̝̯̲͚͍̻͈̭̇̂͛́̑͒͂͂̒̾̍͐̅̿̊̒̿͂̚̕͘ơ̸̬̦͍̹͚̝̥͓̼̰͓̮̖̟̥̯͈̗͒́͆̎̓̓̊͋̍̐͊͒͑͒̚͝͠ͅk̷̢̛̥͔̦͉͈̯͔̖͉̹̝̠͔͈̘̻̙̗͈̲̄̈́̃̀͋̌̅͊͌̇͆͒̊̀̏͗̐̀̔̈͘͘͜ͅͅd̵̟̞̻̙̫̜͖̭̻̝̠͖̬̘͙̭̔̌͗͝o̷̡̨̥̩̝͇̯̼͎̮̤̮̫͓̮̫̠̻͍̜͛͛͑͆̇̀̽͌̏̐́̑͆̏̆̀̀̍̑̂̑͆̌̒̚͠ͅn̷̢͖̯̤̙̻̹̣͎̜̲͕̾͐̂̌̇̓͗̂̋̔̄͐̾̕͜͜͝͝͝͠t̸̨̧̧̢͓̯̖̹͓̪̳̝͕̖̂̈́̈́͒̑́͑́̈́͗̐͂̎͂͆̎̏́̇͒̇̄͗̏̚͜l̶̜̝͎̙̤̠̻̅̆̃̽͑͛̈̍̇͑̍̂͛̾̅̾̒͜͝͝͝ȫ̸͕̗̥̬̼͔͑̊̈́̽̀͑̃͒̿̀̕͜͜͠͝͝͝ớ̷͎͕̩̙̘̘̰̹̻͇̟̻̟̗̟̋̀̾̍̎͂͛̿́͋̋̈́̀̈́̈́̃̈́̋͆̃̓̔͝k̷̖̤͇̠̯͕̞̲͈̝̓̅͐͐͂́̔̊̅̑̓̾̏͘d̶̡͇͚̠̫̩̣͎̳͎̄̂͊͆̌͂̒̇̆̏̎͊͊̔̓̄̽̉̅̃̓͐͝͠͝͝ö̸̢͍͚͖͚͎͙̟̦͚̩̝͍̯͖͕̭̭́̆̃̎̈͆͗̈́̿̇̇͒̎͜ṇ̶̨͙͉̮̩̟͚͎̪͇̹̫̫͚͖̜̫̖̩̝͍̻̟̌͋͋̀̍͌̏͐́̉̋̐̔t̷̡̡̛̜̲͉̝͕̟̖͔͚͕͓̳̤̙͙̲͕̹̋̽̓̓̓͛́̌̇̅͊̽̐̿̈́̈́̏͆͜͝͠ͅl̶̤̞̬̼̺̦̭͓͚̪̼̗̿͛̈́̂̇͊̽̌̌͌̀̋̐̅̽͋͂͘͠ͅǫ̵̪̝̪̜̟̤͓̹͌͆̇̅̀̓̎͐͑̇̂̌̚̚͝ǫ̷̧̧̛̹̰͈̼͚͙̫̪̥̫̫̼̦̬̫̭͇͍̙̖̔̔̃̔̄̈́̀̓́͛͐̚ͅk̴͙̟͍̘̝̦͈͓̭̖̮̗͉̭̩̫͈̜̬̬̿́̓̒̓̀̿̐̿͊̽̆̃͌̐́͌̚͠͠ͅd̴̪̠͖̰̦̠̘̤́͊̓̂͝ͅó̴̙̞͇̫̪͒̋̃̍n̵̢̢̟̤͔̱̯̠͉̪̹̘̦̄̅̄̏̋̉̕ͅļ̷̛̠̬͍̓̃͋́̀͋͑̆̈̅̎̓͊̆̔͌̈͌̚͠͝ợ̷̧̡̫͇̥͎̯̖̬̰̬͍̗͓̯̲̫͖̻̗̜̪̩̇̇̇͋͆̍͗̂̒́͛͌́̎͂̃̽̇̋͘͜͝ǫ̸̹͈̗͎̰̤̱̲̺͓̻̠̞̹̻͔̺̩̭̭̩̗̖́̈́̈̀̆̓̆̍̐͜͝ͅk̷̨̭̣̞̟̝̰̥̻̜̭͐̔̉̀̾͗̀̆̀͐̎̿͆͐́̋̋̄̏̆̈͠d̴̼͚͍̙̻͔̖͚̩̖͌͌̈́̋͊͑̑̓̑̀̏͂͒́̔́͌̿́͆̚̕͝͝ỏ̷̢̹͔͍̼̲͖̳̱̺͓͚͕̰̤̤͔͎͇̯̬̪͓̈̎̈́͜͜͝͝ͅņ̶̨̨̬̰͈̖̼̻̦͓̼͔̩̥͙̭̭̥̯̆̋́͒̆́̇͘ͅt̴̨̮̻̹̜̺̪̞͙̞̊̔̆͛͑͌͐͊̇̉͆̅̎̉̾̚͠͠ͅl̵̩̠͈̀͑̀̃̅͛̿̈́̑̈́͊͛̿̿̔͐̏̓̔́̌̃̊̓͘ö̶͍͎̬̙̮̪͎̟̟̻͈̀̿͝ȯ̶̢̜͍͙̘̥̰̯͔̀̉̔̍̇͂̉̈́͆̓̈͒̎́̏̌̐̂̅̏̈́̚͝k̴̡̛̤͙͖̻͇̻̦̻̟͉͊́̐́̇̂͐͗͒ḑ̵̡̢͎̩̹͔̝̩̙͖̟̖͙͎̹̠͓̲̘̬̼͈̑͑̊̈́̂͘͠͝o̸̲̝̝͒̇͌̍ņ̵̧̛̛͖̗̬̱̻͓͇̙̙̺͓͚͗̇̈̂͊̊̅̎̉̽t̷̨͖̺̠̹͕̰̰̲͕͐̐̿̄̓̊̈́̍̆͑̈́͜l̵̙̱̦̬͇͇̳̹̩̳̰͓̪͋̆͊͛̆̓̄̏̿̂͛͐̎́͗̾͑̚̚͠͠ͅǫ̸̡͓͉̳͓̪̜͕̰̤̯̿͗̈́͗͋̓͊̅͂̽̈̌͐́̓̑̄̃̽͘̕ͅȏ̷̡̡̡͎̱̬̟͈̹͇̮̬͔̼͔͚̗͍̱̜̹̗͚̘̮̊͊͌̌͗͂͑̇̾̽̑̑̐̔̍̂̌̕͝͝͠k̴͚͇̹̰͓̺̥̉̇̿̐͗̅̏̿̊̏̏́̓͛̒̈̍͘̚̚͝͝d̵͎̈͒̓̈́̑̈̐̈́͆̓̽̏̐̐̂̇́͐̂͋̈́͆͛̿͠ǫ̸̨̦̠̙̺̬͖̦̩̖̯̞͓̖̺̣̞̞̬̗̠̜̻͑̍̐ͅn̴̢̛̥̠̺̪͌́̈́̐́̌̂̿̈́̈̈́̇̅̄͋̌̈̿͒͘͠͝t̷̢̤̱̦͈̟͕̘̫̫̝̙̥̝̤̘͙̼̙͉͍̤̓͑̾͋́͐̈́͂̓̐́̿̓̿͘̕͠͝͝ͅl̸͔̀̓̊ơ̴̫͓̩̘͍̭̣̞̌̈́̓̍̿̂̿̅̆͑̿̃̅́͘͜͝͝͝o̴̢̢̼̱̥̱̤͖̱̣̾̎̈̉́̈́͂͠k̵̛̛͓̬̥̜̳̫̲̲̩̼̄͗͛̍̓́̔̋̽̊̌̽͐̓̍̋̃̽̕͘̚͜͠͝͠d̴͇̦͍͍̘͕̞̟̯͇͉̰̙̮͊̊̌̽́̈́̏̇̑̃́͜͠ǫ̵̡̧̛̤̤͍̼̪̩̼̘̣͋̿̔̔̀̋̅̑̒̚̚͠n̷̛̙̹̦͍͔̰̬̲̮̱̟̥̺͗̽̄͐̈́̍̽̍͛̑̇̔̉̈̔͐̎̽́͋͐͜͜͝͠l̸̡̛͇̬̖̝̈́̃̆̇̀̈́̾̀̃͂̓̏̎̀͆̎̈́͌̚̕ơ̸̢̘̙̦͇͋͛̈́̈̀̄̈́̏̅̇̃͌͋͌̀̋̄͆̊̃̾̎̚̚͝ò̵̡̢̧̟͖͚̰̰̪̫̬̬̖̞͈̭̜̙͇̥͎͍̝̣͇̇̏̂̒̑͂̓̏̅̄͂̑̀̋̍̇̈́͗͑͒́̚k̵̗̝̼̓̑̅̍̇̌̚͠͝

…He looked back up again.

But Sonic’s eyes held that same unsettling glimmer, the hint of unhinged joy beneath the surface of his bright, teasing smirk. His thumb dragged along Shadow’s lower lip, just enough to brush the hint of fang that peeked through. One of those fangs had nearly killed him today, but damn, what he’d give to see that spectacle again.

“Why can’t we? We’re Sonic and Shadow the Hedgehogs. We can do whatever we want…”

Before Shadow could respond, could even process the weight of what was left unspoken between them, Sonic leaned back slightly, his expression shifting in a way that was almost playful, but unnervingly offbeat.

 “Hey, Faker,” he began, his voice hushed now, as if he was sharing a secret. “Do you know why the chicken crossed the road?”

Shadow's breath hitched, caught completely off-guard. 

“...What?” He blinked, the confusion on his face painfully evident as he tried to process the question. Exhaustion pulled at him, dragging every raw, tangled emotion to the surface. He’d barely recovered from the surge of artificial Chaos, and his nerves still thrummed with the remnants of panic from earlier. The usual walls he’d keep up without effort felt painfully fragile now, and he found himself staring at Sonic in genuine disbelief. “Sonic,” he managed, voice a rasp that betrayed his exhaustion. “What… are you talking about?”

Sonic’s smile spread, slow and sly, as if he were savoring the reaction he’d coaxed from Shadow. His eyes gleamed with an unsettling kind of playfulness, both coaxing and unreadable. Leaning in closer, he dropped his voice to a murmur, his words dripping with a sweetness that made Shadow’s skin prickle. “Picture it, Shads. A little chicken, restless with where she is now… leaving everything behind to cross the big, bad, dangerous road.” He let the words hang, then shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “Seems like a bad idea, right? So why would she do it? What’s the reason?”

A strange, tight feeling twisted in Shadow’s stomach at the suggestion. The absurdity of Sonic’s words clashed with the severity of their conversation. What did Sonic want him to understand? Was this some stupid joke invoked by the speedster’s idiocy and delirium? Rather than confront it directly, he scoffed, unwilling to yield entirely even if his heart ached. Humoring the other when he was deranged like this might not be the best idea…

But he, Shadow the Hedgehog, the Ultimate Lifeform, was not perfect. Today proved that more than ever. 

Sad. 

“...Because she’s stupid,” he deadpanned with a dismissive wave, though his voice carried a reluctant intrigue. “If she crosses, she risks getting hit by a vehicle. She is just a flicky. Now is not the time for your stupid jokes…”

The hero tilted his head, amusement flickering over his face, though there was something sharper beneath it, something that stilled Shadow’s breath. “Maybe she is just a flicky. Maybe she can’t be anything more than that,” Sonic agreed, almost too easily. “But if she stays where she is, she’ll never know what’s on the other side. She’ll… what’s the word? Stagnate? Always wondering… always wanting… But never changing…”

Sonic’s hand lingered back onto Shadow’s cheek, his touch light but unwavering, a strange warmth pressing into Shadow’s skin. A part of him wanted to melt, to lean into that touch and let himself forget – just for a moment – the weight of all that came before. But Sonic’s words snapped him back, the eerie boldness stirring practically summoning black Chaos at his fingertips again.

“Maybe a little hope is a good thing?” Sonic murmured, almost to himself, his eyes intense and gleaming with a feverish conviction. “So what if she could end up just a forgotten pile of red meat and black feathers? That’s what life’s about, Shadow. Being brave, taking on the unknown, diving in headfirst… just to see what’s on the other side. It’s thrilling…”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed, his instincts flickering with a quiet alarm that settled into his core. “Hope isn’t… everything,” he replied softly, but there was a twinge of defensiveness in his tone, as though he was saying it as much for himself as for Sonic. “Not if the risk is that high. Living recklessly isn’t bravery, it’s…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he searched for words, feeling a pang of frustration that rose unbidden. He could not say he wasn’t grateful for this weird distraction though… “It’s just… foolhardy. She’d be putting herself in danger, just for a chance.”

He pulled back slightly, meeting Sonic’s eyes with a steady, uncertain gaze. “And even if she makes it across, who’s to say what’s on the other side isn’t just as bad… or worse… than what she left?”

Sonic’s smirk softened, yet his expression remained sharp as he continued to hold Shadow’s gaze. He tilted his head, fingers now traveling to Shadow’s chin, lifting it gently. It felt both comforting and unsettling to the dark hedgehog… but he didn’t protest. He forced himself to meet Sonic’s stare.

“But isn’t that the beauty of it?” Sonic leaned in, his voice lowering to a near whisper, each word threaded with an unsettling calm. “She might not know what’s on the other side, but no one really does. Maybe it’s not about what’s waiting, but about wanting more, about knowing there’s more out there and daring to try, no matter what.” His lips quirked up into a tender smile, and yet one too deliberate.

Shadow’s frown deepened, his expression darkened with a quiet tension as he listened, processing Sonic’s words. The meaning behind the chicken’s journey had dawned on him now –  it was painfully clear, enough so he almost rolled his eyes in annoyance.

In Sonic’s mind, the little creature of his ramblings wasn’t just a flicky.

Of course it wasn't.

The hero, even now, managed to act upon his whimsical nature...

And though he wanted to believe in Sonic’s confidence, in the thrill of greater things than he’d ever dared to consider, a gnawing hesitance twisted in his gut. That yearning for freedom could come at a cost, one he wasn’t certain he was willing to pay. A steep price tag that would be coated in blood, just like the blood he had…

“...Not everyone wants to play that kind of game,” he finally murmured, voice steady yet low, as if he was speaking against the rising tide of his own emotions. His gaze drifted somewhere past Sonic’s shoulder, reluctant to meet those bright, unyielding eyes that gleamed with something almost feverish. “Not everyone can… leave things behind so easily. Not everyone can live… like you.”

Sonic’s expression softened, though there was a glimmer in his eyes that didn’t match his gentle touch. With a grin spreading across his face, he practically sang, “That’s true! Not everyone can…” Then, without a hint of hesitation, he leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against Shadow’s cheek, lingering just long enough to make Shadow’s breath hitch. He stayed close, voice dipping into a teasing whisper, his warm breath brushing against Shadow’s fur.

“Are you like everyone else, Shadow?”

The question hung in the air, each word laced with a subtle challenge. Shadow felt a tremor run through him, his mind buzzing as he tried to dismiss the warmth blooming under Sonic’s touch. He could feel his pulse quicken beneath Sonic’s fingers, which were tracing slow, tantalizing circles along his person. Shadow wanted to pull back, to scoff, to dismiss this as another one of Sonic’s reckless ideas…

All infuriating. All infatuating.

…

The Chaos within Shadow was making him sick.

…

…

…

Sonic fell over suddenly, his precarious balance giving way with no warning. He would’ve toppled into the jagged rocks and unforgiving waves below if Shadow hadn’t caught him at the last second, fingers curling tightly around his arm and hauling him back from the edge.

“... Oh, shit…!” Shadow hissed, finally registering the icy chill that radiated from Sonic’s skin. The tremors coursing through the hero’s frame were fierce, each shudder rippling into Shadow’s own as he tightened his grip. Sonic groaned, his head falling against Shadow’s shoulder, his breaths ragged and shallow.

In that brief moment, Shadow felt a sting of guilt pierce through him. He’d been so wrapped up in his own turmoil earlier, too absorbed in his self-loathing and exhaustion, that he hadn’t even noticed the toll the wound had taken on Sonic. Shadow’s focus had been clouded, his thoughts twisted around his own inner demons, failing to see how badly Sonic was struggling. He had been pointedly ignoring the wound on his arm, wrapped terribly in foliage, because the flashes of the blood, the flesh, the bone he had bitten into was too mucẖ̶̱̞̗͓̘̤̪͗ͅ ̴̢̡̭̯̬͙͓̘͍̰̳͍͍̈͐̏̈́̆̀̀͠ḩ̶̨̢͙̟̻͍̭͕͓̼̮̫̭̗̬̽͑͑̀͒͂̍̈̑̊̎̏̐̕ͅe̴̳̦̞͚̖͓̺̼͇̝̦̦̿w̷̱̜̺͊̒̉͒̇͝͝o̷̧̹̭͚͕̻̖̣̗͍̺͒͝ũ̴̡̝͎̝̥͔̺͕̱̱̺̊́͆̐̎̆͊̓̃͋̚̚͝͠͝ͅl̴͉̲͇̻͚̞̣͈̩̮̮̣͔̠̦̻̓͊͊̒̉͘͝͠d̸̡̨̨̘͕̪̮͍͙̹̥͔̝͚̓͗́͒̕ͅg̶̡̪̩̪̬̼͓̗͉̰͍͕̳͉͉̟̒̈́ǫ̸̬͓̰̣̠̝̹̍̈́̍̊̚m̶̢̛͙̩̤̼̭͍͔̙͑͌̆̆͂͆̆̄͜ả̴̧̡̛̛̭̹͚̙̺̣̞̝̄͂̈́̔̍͜͜͜ͅd̷͎͐͛̀̽̉̉̓̃̚͘͠͝ä̴̫͊͛̊̄͂̽͑͠g̵̪̭̦͉͙͖̱͕̩̱̼̈́̎̀̄̈́̃̋͜ã̵̏̂͊̕͜i̴̺̰̐n̸̢͚̠̙̻͚̦̙̲̜̭͓̣̓͜l̴̡̼̯̗̭̬̤̙̓̍̌̾̋̐͜͠͠͠ę̷̛̹̺̘̼͉̓́̈̈́̎t̶̛̥̯͒́̐̓̓̆͜͜i̷̪͓̒̈̑̓̽͒̈́̀̔̈̌́̔͒̉͌̾t̵͇̝̥̰̪̩̜̪̝̎̒͝ǫ̵̧̧̛̘͎̦͓͈̮̼͎̫̜̘͎̿́̋͛͆̈͒̐u̵̗̼̟̎͛̈́̐̿̎̀ţ̸̢̨̢̛͉͚̖̞͙̫͈̯̲͇̜̰̃̂͋̿̀͑͌̕͠l̶̡̘̺͓̝̗̈̏̄͝e̷͖̰͍͚̼̤̠̲̘̦͔̩͕͗͋̀̌̒͝t̶̻͚̗̠͖̥͙͙̮̻̩̻̫̹͉̄͐̈̎͜ͅi̸̛̝̜̐̀̊̍͝͝ţ̷̟̜͔̘͔̞̠̋̑̐̈́̉̔̍̇̏͂̄̉͠Ŏ̶͉̫͔̥̗͓̳͍͔͙̮̟̦̩̪͆̀̉͐̓̌̄̄͛͆̇̌͛̊̈́͝ͅͅƯ̷̢̨̯͕̇̊́̈́͐̉̉̎̚͝͝T̷͉̬͚̪̥̻̩̖͎̃͗̿̎͐͝O̶̢̡͕̘̯͉̤̪̲̪͇͒ͅỤ̷̪̥͇̰͇̈́͐̔̈̾͑̍̊T̸̢̡̛̪̜̗̣̖͔̩̖͎̱̀̽̿̅̇̈́̽͑͒̆O̶͈̞̯̙̼̖̝̲̩̱͓̤͛̈͗̑̆̃̐͛͝͝U̷̘̺̯̐̊̅T̶̨̡͓͔̳͚̪̩̝̹͋̔̀̄̈́͛̾͆̋̌̀͋̑̚̕̕͠Ȯ̸̳͉̦̇̌̈́͘͠͝ͅƯ̷̱̤͈̔̒̚T̷̡̛͖̦̗͇̰͙̖͂͊̄͆̈́̃̀͗̋̾́

"Stop it…" Shadow muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper, raw with urgency. His breath came in short, panicked bursts as he struggled to calm the torrent of thoughts swirling through his mind, his body working on instinct alone as he began to pull Sonic away from the cliff’s deadly edge. He could feel the heat creeping up his face, could feel the weight of shame pressing on his chest, thick and relentless. What would anyone say if they saw this? If they saw him, the Ultimate Lifeform, the feared, untouchable soldier, cradling the Hero of Earth like this… broken and on the verge of collapse? Foe, stranger, and ally alike would surely be horrified. Shadow could imagine the whispers, the looks.

Typically, he wouldn’t care what others thought. But also typically, he didn’t lose himself like that. He didn't forget himself...

He glanced down at the blue hedgehog in his arms, barely holding onto consciousness, and his heart clenched. This was… this was his fault, wasn’t it? He’d been so consumed, so selfishly caught up in his own turmoil, that he hadn’t noticed just how close Sonic was to unraveling. And now, the only one who’d offered him comfort was hanging on by a thread.

“Have you… actually had worse before…? I doubt it…” he muttered, his voice shaking as he lifted Sonic into his arms with trembling hands. His heart raced as he held the hedgehog close, his expression twitching with a hint of something frayed, manic.

'You’re falling apart again,'  he told himself, swallowing hard as he strode toward the river, the roar of rushing water filling his ears. He needed to wash Sonic’s wounds, bandage him, stabilize him with his own blood, give him food, keep him awake, make sure he’s warm, make sure he’s not dead, get this fucking Chaos out of before he fucks up again and shows people just how broken he really is–

But just as Shadow reached the edge of the riverbank, a weak, familiar warmth brushed across his cheek, making him stop. 

Sonic’s good hand lifted, trembling but determined, fingers grazing Shadow’s cheek in a slow, almost languid motion. The touch was so light, yet it made Shadow halt in his tracks, his whole body stiffening as he looked down, unable to mask the surprise that flickered in his wide, crimson eyes. Sonic’s usual bright grin faded into a small curve, just barely there, like a last shard of sunlight breaking through heavy clouds. Even on the edge of consciousness, he wore that same ease as if nothing had changed.

“You look like… the day you fell…” Sonic murmured, voice barely above a whisper, but laced with that familiar, casual confidence. “Relax, man…”

Shadow’s throat tightened, a strange tension clashing against the calm that Sonic always seemed to bring with him, no matter how dire the situation. A pang of resentment rose within him, something he could barely name – a bitterness at the way Sonic could smile through anything, could always manage to keep going, keep that lightness even when everything around them was fractured and broken. When Shadow was fractured and broken.

For a moment, he didn’t understand what Sonic meant, the words tumbling through his mind in its heavy fog. But then it clicked, and Shadow exhaled sharply, forcing a huff past the ache in his chest. “Now you’re the one… talking about boring things,” he muttered, though his voice had lost its usual edge as he pleaded. “Just… stay with me. Don’t fall asleep…”

His hold on Sonic tightened, as if willing to physically anchor the hero to him.

Sonic chuckled weakly, his voice a raspy whisper that still held a spark of that unbreakable cheerfulness. He looked up at Shadow, his green eyes soft and unfocused but shining with a warmth that made the hybrid’s heart clench. “Can’t help it…” he murmured, voice drifting on the edge of a sigh. His head rested heavily against Shadow’s shoulder, purring.

For a moment, as Sonic’s gaze trailed over Shadow, the world seemed to blur, leaving only the dark hedgehog outlined against the vast, brilliant moon. The moonlight draped over Shadow’s face, softening his fierce expression, casting him in a radiant glow that made him look otherworldly. In that ethereal light, Shadow appeared almost surreal, as if he were something greater than just flesh and blood – a figure carved from starlight, mysterious and powerful. In the haze of Sonic’s vision, he was once again reminded of Shadow’s Super form, that blazing power he’d witnessed countless times before. It felt like he was seeing a glimpse of that form now…

“Man…” Sonic’s voice sounded horribly loud in his pounding head, but the hero didn’t care. Not with a sight like this before him. “You’re beautiful…”

Yeah, really cliche today...

…

Sonic’s clawed hand moved to dig into ony̴x fur and tanned flesh.

“...Sonic, stay awake…”

The hero̵ ran his tongu̷e over monstrously sha̶̩͛r̷̦̐͋p teeth.

“Sonic… Fuck, I need to do this now…!”

And maybe̸ his own fur did spark into a brilliant gold…

“Fucking… D̶̡̻̮͕͎̠̲͖͔̹͙̹̗́̈͋͜ó̵̡̦̪͕̝̘̝̹͈̼͖̫͉̄̈́͂̿͆̃͊́̊͌̂̓͐͑͂̕n̸̻̙͓̒̎̽̏͛͂̊͂́̉̈́͝’̴̞̤̞̤̳̦̗̫͐͗̔̀͐̂͆̐͜͠͝t̷̨̝̪̺̜̬̞̭̜͎͖̼͍͎̏̓ ̴̦̬̼̫̒̕ş̶̡̻̣̳̖̘̦͉̩̤͌̋͗̎̾́̾͆͑͋̏̊̒̉̕̚͜͠a̴̡̧̧̖̬̱̲͍̟̣͇̮̞̾y̵̩͖͉̝̤̼̺̳͂̇̽͂̃̊͑͂̚͜ ̸̗̥̙͖̬͚̥̪̘͕͔͍͓̻̩̀̒̓̊͆́̿̈́̎̓̒̇̎̕͘ţ̴̦̗̝̪͙̖̝͑͑͐h̷͎̗̣͂̇̃̄̏̽̒͊̄͠a̵̢̟̥̻̠̤̎̄͌̾̃̆̎̊̔͆̅̃̎̋t̵̖̘̰̬̼̥̾̈́̈́̅͐̇͗̀͂̐̊̍̈…̵̧̧̦͓͍͎̳̣̬̭̈ͅ!̴̳̲͖͈͍̋͂̿͑̅͐̄͒̇̌̅̕͠”̶͕̞̯͓̰͎̋̽͛̆̈́͐͋̎͛̏̉̈̎̀͝

And m̶̙͝aybe his eyes lost their eme̵rald to adopt an empty black.

“̸̢̡̪̞̺̮̖̠̗͎͖̜͇͕͙͔̳͍̭̭̌̆̈́̄͑͐̏͆̐̅̆͆͐͋̎̃͘͜͜͠͠ͅS̶̢̧̧̧̨̟͚̝̤̱͓̯̙̩̟̮͔͕̠͙̟̖̜̖̭̎̽́̍́̑͂̓̀̍̉͆͗͋͂̋̈̌̅̂̈́͋̋̄̀̆̉̆̔͝͝ͅͅo̶͚̤̎̍͒͑͛̕n̵̢̢̢̨̯̯̮̯̦̞̯̪̭̭͙̦̯͇̻͚͎̻̦̖̓͐͜ͅȋ̴̡̧̡̢̨̹̣͔͓̯͖͕̺͎̤͇̂͂̉͆̈̋͊̃͆̇̂̇͗̈́͗̾̃̽̈̅͗̄̅͒̚̕̕͝͝͝ͅc̵̮̠͓̝̹̻̹̗͕̥̮̲͉͂͂̀͐̕͜͝ͅ…̴̢̧̟̤͙͍̻̳͔̝̱̻̣̟̞̣̘͍̹̻̙̘̰̩͂̈́̽͂͑̒̄͌͛͌́́̈́̐͝?̶̡̠̹͍͚̲̣̹̾̈́͋̍̀̓̉̀͘͘̕͘͝!̴̨̡͚͈̙͕̟͖͚̼̲̯̱̦̪̪̖̰̮̪̬̻͚̜̲̲͔̱̤̔́̏̂̍̇͗̔̕̚͝͠”̸͖͉̭̙̯̮̥̊

A̵̧̱̳̯̝͛͆̿̅̾̃̋̈́͝͠͝n̸̬̾̓̊̀̀̽͗̃̿̽̓̎͒͌̎͜͝ͅͅḓ̴̡̛̮̭̞̦̭͔͉̣͚̞͌̉̈́͌̽̒͑͂͊̽̈́̈́̔̿͘͠ ̶͓̘̠̳͚̳̺̠͈̳̫̘͙͌̒͗̈̈́̉͌̀́́̈́͘̚̚͝m̴̩͉̦͎̀͊͐̕à̶̛̺̙̜̤̜̫̲̦̪̥̆̾͂͆̿̑͠ͅy̸̹̗̟̣̲̱̒͂̈́̊̌̅̇̆̃͠b̶̞̓̌͆͘ͅě̵̛͈̩̞͕͈̰͖̻͕̀͒̍̃͂̂́̓ͅ ̶͕̻͙̘̽̋̃̈́̐́̃͛̈́̀͌̔̿̕͝͝Ș̷̡̛̮̲͓̭̗͔̟̝͙͕̖̠͔̙̏́͗͊͒̅̎̅̀̋͑̈̚͜o̷͎̝̯̓͆͌̔̽̎̔n̷̡̯̠̎̏̀͜͝ĭ̵̡̧̛̞̙̺̻̻̺͙̮̦̼͎̌͌̐̓̓͆͝͠c̴͍̳̃̉͝ ̸̧̰͓̭͎̺̪͇͙̳̽͛̋̄͒͑͒͗͒͛̈́̉̚͜͠ţ̶̮͉̈́̃̔͋̀h̵̨̧̛̘͕̪̰̞̰̠̮̞̜͆̿̄̾̍̓̄̀̑̊̈́̇̉͊͒͠e̸̢̢̯̝̥͕̜̳̦̮͓̤̿͋̊̓̂ͅ ̸̲̩̲͖̼͖̻̙͆̀̄H̶͔͖̓̽̅́͝ͅe̶̡̹̲̱̣̝͚͇̜̻͈̜͛̇̎͂̑͂̉̕d̵̢̢͓̞̱̻̗̥̮̫̼͓̹̭͆̓̓͐̐̅͌̑̏̎̆͊͑͜͝ͅg̸̡̨̢͕̭͇͇̦̭̱̰͇̙͖̗̝̑́̿̉̏͘ē̸̟͊̉̎̐̓͌͊̏̾̅h̵̖͇̞͉͔̣͉͙͇͔̲͎̎͊̃͐o̶̫͈̩̙̬̠̓̊̈̄̄̉̀͑̓͌͛́̅̏̈̈́̽g̵̢̢̧̧̦̙͓͙̩̭͈̻̲͊͆̂͐̐̕ͅ ̷̧̡͉̲̯̩̞͙͙̗͕̇͊̑̓̃̂ͅd̴̖͙̰̠̖̱͓̳̪͎͈̜̫̜͐̐͐̎̔̀̏͗̆̀͂̈́̆͘͘͝į̷̨̛͖̲͔̘̰̗͍̲͔̣̘͓͎̘͌͐̐̽̔̀̓͘͝d̸̩̜̖͚̬̥̖̼̘̊ ̴̝̗̳̙̘̱͓̬̤̮̰͈̻̥̠͆͛̇̈͂̒̐͌̏̓̓̀͜͜͝d̴̡̹͈̞̣͚̱͇̬̺̓͑̾͋̔͌͊̅͊̿̾̍̑͂̾̃̕i̶̟̺̊͗̆̊̔̈́̃͌̃͊é̴̢͕̝̱̝̱̠͖͈̪͓̪̐͒̃̇̒̈́̉̕ͅ.̶̢̦͓͔̤̗̗͍̼̞͔̎̈́͐̎̏ ̵̪̺̃͌̋͊͆̾̍̀̀̂̌̓̚Ǫ̵̧̧̼͉̤̗̤̮̰̝͑̆n̷̨̝͔͑̇̊͗̆́̀̿͆͗͝͝l̴̗͇͓̱̙̻̯̬̻̦̯̫̞͈̮̠̃̏̂̆͂͠y̷̡͕̦͈͈̹̳͈̹͇̯͉̣̹͍̑̾̇̋̊͒̒̉̅͒̓̀͠ͅ ̷̧̢̙̼̺̪̳͔͎̹̘̻͙̦͒̈́̓̀́͋͂̆̈̅̌̆ͅṯ̸̩̉̈́͒̚͝ǫ̶̗̫̥̘̯̹̪̝̠̗̘͒̊̃̐̿̋̈͌̽̓̀̔̈́̄̂̔̄ ̴̨̝͙̺̖̓̋̐̾̓̑̍b̶̧̛̘̫̲̻̝̎̃̒͑̽ͅę̴͂̔ ̴͚̭̼̻̥͍̱̺̣͈͙̀r̴̢̲̥̥̺̪̟̳̮̼̲͙̾̏̌͑͛̏̐̓̀̂̐͒͌̕͘͘ͅè̷̡͚̫̩̭̪͎̞͈͖̳͎̫͆̎͌͑̇͗̒͒̐̃͂́̑͘͘͠b̷̟̭͎̖͙̘̖̟͉͖̞̥̈̑̽̃̾o̶̬͇̰̮͎̣̺̜̦̩̗͌̑͋͒̒͆́̋̏͌͒̕͜͝ȓ̴̡̢̡̢̝̼̲͈̪̥͓̜͙͔̣̽̿̌̈́̿ͅṅ̷̛̫̙̪͕̰͙̺́̀̂̃̃̀̔ ̶̢̛̱̦̼̺͉̖͖̞̼̙͓͗̀̍̌͐̐͑̑̆̿̿́̑͘͘ͅa̸̙͍̣̘̲͈̳̳͚̟̘̣͂̓͐̚ͅğ̷̛̜̥̫̜̀̓͐͒̓̉̉̃̀̏̾͝a̸̢̲͓̘͇̠͇̺͐͠ì̵̢̢̖̟͇̠̊̕n̵͕̳̻͝.̸̨̛̗͇̰̲̜͔͉͕͕͚̪̙̥̓̃̓̈́̍̋͊̿̔͆́̾̈́̀ͅ ̵̪̺̻͉͈̜͈̰̱̳̩̯̳̰̏̃̇̎̌̏͑̅͘͜À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠ À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵̦̼̩̜̳͈̝̟͕̳̳͌̃̏̓͋̅̕͘͜͠À̵̞̥͉̩̽̎͐̿̌͑̇͝͝n̵͍͌̎̌̂̄̐̈̍̆̂͠͝d̵̨̝̥̘͕̣̉͐̈̉͐͛̊̉́̈́́̽̌̕͘̚͝ ̶̨͈͂́̈́̋̊̀́̆͐͊́̚̚ą̸̧̛̺͇͖͓̯̪͌̍́̒̀̈́̂͑̈́̕g̶̛̛̘̘̪̼̣̳̻̊̎̄̀̇͌̐͌͒̓́͘͘ą̶̞̩̤̠̱̦̰̖͍͓̱̗̞̱̻̰͌̇̓̍̾̽̀î̷̡̫̟̙͇̹̯̖̥̙̰͊̋͛̋̈́͒̈́͐͌͆͛͊͝n̴͓̯̝̫͚̫̤̎̄̍̌̂͛̈́̾̾̈́͗̊͂͝.̸̧̨̛̮̭̥̙͙͂́̌̂̈́͒̈́̾͆͋͌͋̕͝͝ ̴̡̩̲̫̥̤̭̝̩̈́͑̍̾͑̎̽̐̀͗̕̚̚͝͠͠͠Ạ̸͎͈͈̣̘͇̬̪̌̆̅͛̑̚͜ͅn̵̨͈̮̪͈̭͈̜͍̼͚̱̗̘̔́̐͒̑̔̽̾͋̉͆͊̔̕̚͜ͅͅd̶̡̛̝̖͙͆̐̀͒͊̊̄̌̂̆̔̀̕̚ͅ ̴̢̧̧̧̡̟͔͖̬̼͈̫͖̙͓̼̺͊̑̈́̍̕͘͝a̴̢̡̭̱̯̳̥͙͔̙͗̇́̋̊̎̈̿̆̌̇̍͘͘͝g̶̻̟̻̱̳̏́̽̂͆̀̓̚͝a̷̢̠͙̝̰̱̩̗̯̳̘̖͉̲̗͚̱͑͐̃̀̈̀̍͂̿͂̈́̐͆͌į̶̙͚͕̱́̔́͆͑͜͠ǹ̷͖͕̰̺͇̎͐̐̾͒̔̀͌̾̓̎͝͝.̵͌̃̏̓͠ 

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The Sun’s rise heralded a profound and irreparable change.

With the dawn came a world brimming with endless possibilities, each ray of light illuminating choices that would transform everything in its wake. The air crackled with potential, electric with the thrill of what lay ahead. Yet amid the excitement, an unsettling truth loomed, heavy and palpable:

Nothing stays the same.

Nothing lasts forever.

As the shadows retreated from the blinding power of the Sun, they revealed not just new beginnings, but the silent promise of inevitable endings. They lurked just beyond the horizon, waiting to reclaim what was once cherished.