Charlotte stared at the newspaper. The story couldn't be true. It just couldn't. She read it again and again, a third time and a fourth, but she still refused to believe the words printed on the page.

Asta, the anti-magic kid Yami had picked up not even a year ago, was being blamed for everything which had befallen the kingdom. The article said he had conspired with demons to upset the balance of power in the kingdom.

Charlotte could not believe a word, because none of it was true.

"They are making that little shrimp take the fall for everything?" Sol asked from the chair next to the bed. Charlotte had been confined to the hospital since the incident, recovering from the aftereffects of possession.

"The house of Kira and the Magic Parliament have their own view on events, Sol. As Magic Knights, it is not our place to question them."

The answer was canned, basic, rhetoric spouted out of habit.

"Even if those views are wrong." Charlotte gripped the paper tightly as she read over the article one more time. She folded the paper and laid it on the table beside the bed.

She could see what was happening. She didn't become a Magic Knight Captain by being stupid. Asta was being set up. She could feel it in her bones, even if she had no proof of it.

Of course, no one would believe her without proof.

But everything in her being pointed to the entire farce of a trial bein a set-up, a sham.

Would her own trial be such a farce?

Charlotte sighed though her insides boiled with rage. The Magic Parliament was planning to sacrifice the boy for the good of the kingdom. They planned to use him as a scapegoat, vilifying him to provide innocence to the magic knights who had turned.

'What did it matter? He was a peasant with no magic.' they would say. She could hear her father's voice spouting the words himself.

Charlotte gripped the skirt of her nightgown in tightly balled fists.

What mattered was the injustice of it. The boy was too young; he should not have to take responsibility for the actions of others. His head should not be the one on the chopping block.

But no one else was there, no one had seen, not anyone the Parliament would believe anyway. Her own account of events would be called into question as she was under the influence of the possession. She would not be trusted. Neither would they trust Yami-a foreigner whose mere presence in the Magic Knights had caused quite the stir in the first place. Even though they had both seen first hand what had happened.

"Sis? Are you alright?"

"Call me Captain, Sol," Charlotte replied automatically, but her voice broke.

She could no longer contain it-the anger, the rage, the guilt.

"I'm sorry, Sol." Tears fell onto her balled fists and her face twisted up in pain.

"Sorry for what, Sis?"

"I was too weak; I couldn't stop it, the possession."

"You weren't weak, Sis."

Charlotte shook her head, knowing Sol's words to be filled with lies.

"I should have been able to stop her. But I couldn't. And I hurt people. Friends."

"I was weak too, Sis. I should have been able to..." Sol started to protest, but Charlotte wanted to hear none of it. She raised her hand and the young woman fell silent.

"I'm tired, Sol. Thank you for visiting, but I think I need some rest now." She forced a weak smile. The smile felt as thin as her resolve had been once the other woman had forced her way into her body and mind. One more reminder of the weakness within.

"If you say so, Sis. I'll come to visit again tomorrow." She stood and walked toward the door. "I wonder if Puli wants a visitor."

Charlotte smiled in spite of herself, but the warm feeling she had for her squad members faded quickly. Her body, though uninjured, could not handle the stress of the magic she had used, of the spell which had silenced her spirit and supplanted another. She lay back against the soft pillow as the dark thoughts crept through her mind again.

Weak.

Unworthy.

Disappointment.

Incompetent.

As she drifted to sleep-a fitful experience given the darkness threatening to consume her-Charlotte saw dream-like memories racing through her mind, memories of the recent events, memories which weren't her own.