The Clan of Outcasts (Seasons 1 and 2)

SERIES FINALE, Part 3

Azelie found it difficult to focus on soothing the crowd when she felt such agitation to be standing next to one so volatile, who had behaved so unpredictably in the entire time of their acquaintance.

"Azelie," Zayra grunted. "Those four in the back are causing trouble!"

Azelie squinted at the burly group of rabble-rousers still shouting and keeping the ones in front of them sufficiently scared and distracted. "I'm working on it," she muttered, trying to focus her thoughts on theirs, to calm their aggression.

Abruptly, she felt her mind surge and fill with the loud shouts of four minds talking at the same time, at full volume. She clapped her hands to her head and winced. The suddenness of the noise caused her to lose concentration on the other ones in front of her.

"Argh!"

"Oh!" the woman in front of her gasped and staggered forward, arms stretched toward her. "Let me help you."

Azelie raised her head and found herself staring right in the woman's eyes. She felt it happen—the familiar pull that she experienced in her early days as a Paragon, the one that was the reason she had been chosen for the palace in the first place.

The woman smiled, clinging to Azelie's hand as she stood.

"You're perfect," she gushed.

Azelie winced at the word, but the smile slowly spread to other faces, and suddenly the obstinate shouters at the back didn't matter. All attention focused intently on her, and a hush fell over the crowd as they shuffled forward, pressing closer to lay reverent hands upon Azelie.

"Zayra!" the young girl shrieked. "Help!"

"It's not fair!" Zayra's voice regained some of the old high-pitched whine. "You're getting all the attention, when you're hardly doing anything! I'm doing most of the work! Everyone should be gathering around me!"

Azelie recognized the overtones, but it was too late. The intensity of emotion surged through the crowd, but instead of turning to Zayra, the crowd latched even tighter to Azelie.

"She's perfect! We want her! My turn! Mine!" the whispers rippled through, and Azelie could only stare in horror as the crowd pressed tighter, practically choking one another to lay a hand on her. Someone's finger caught in the seam of her sleeve, and it ripped. The sound of tearing cloth seemed to galvanize others, and instead of crushing, Azelie felt them pulling on her clothes and her hair. Hands pushed on her ankles, raising her up above the crowd so that even more people could grab hold of her.

"Zayra! Help me!" Azelie shrieked, though her voice barely cut through the gushing praises of the crowd. Azelie began pushing and kicking to free herself, wantonly flailing to escape before the grabbing hands stripped her naked. On the steps above her, Zayra clutched her head and wailed.

"Noooo! It's happening again! It won't stop! Make it stop!"

A black shape emerged from the shadows in the doorway, and Troy surveyed his work with pride.

"It's good to be back, isn't it?" he called to the frantic Paragon.

Azelie shoved and pushed her way to a nearby statue, hauling herself up onto the pedestal, beyond the reach of the people. From that vantage point, she could see one side of the courtyard, where Damaris, Erlis, and Lizeth struggled to revive the newly-thawed Beren; the other side, where Edri and Velora battled each other within a root-cage, while Kaidan scrambled through the maze of roots to reach his sister; Jade hovered around the windows of the tower, unable to reach the pair inside, yet torn against abandoning them to assist any of her other friends.