I failed to keep myself from putting my fist through the mirror. With a satisfying crunch, the mirror shattered into a million pieces, parts of raining down around me.

I pulled my fist back from where it had indented in the wall behind it, and stared at it, realizing that I had somehow not been injured.

Had the backlash really increased this much? I knew it had increased my strength, agility, etc., but not enough that I had a minor Brute rating of my own.

I flexed my fingers, and my thoughts turned back to the Trio. I could put them in my hospital, even without my true power at this point. I could-

A wave of revulsion shuddered through me as the thought of harming life, in general. It was wrong, I knew in my heart of hearts. Life was sacred, and those who threatened it were the only true threats.

I shook my head, brushed the glass from my body, grabbed my backpack, and headed for the door. I was going home before I did something utterly stupid, like apologizing for being somehow offensive to them.

I ignored the looks and laughter. They were inconsequential, in the wider scheme of things. I was certain now. I was going out tonight. I wanted to experience the power of the Aspect of Life before she took me over completely, and I started on rehabilitating the Slaughterhouse 9.

As the bus drove me home, I considered yet again the curse that is the backlash from holding on to the soul I had pulled. I simultaneously despised, and mourned, both the Slaughterhouse and the Endbringers, I wanted to open a charity, an orphanage, and a thousand other things that would end with happy people, and a very overworked, but satisfied me.

I needed to let her go as soon as possible.

I opened my bag and studied the contents. With some effort from a reasonably powerful mage, I could probably fix everything within. I could do that tomorrow after I got home from school.

A grin widened across my face as I imagined going out tonight. And then I lost it as I remembered that I couldn't brag about it without getting myself targeted. Ah, well. At least I could use it as fuel whenever the Trio bothered me.

Finally, the boss stopped a block away from home. I got off, and walked home, sighing, as I realized that Dad wasn't home. I wanted to apologize to him, confess to everything, and cry into his shoulder. And yet I couldn't let her feelings cloud my judgement. Not now. One day, yes, I would tell him.

I struggled, trying to keep myself from crying. I made my way into the house, dodging the broken stair. I unlocked the door, breathing in the familiar smell of home. I walked upstairs, went into the bathroom and locked the door. A thought occurring to me, I stripped, placing everything in the tub.

I glared at myself in the mirror, before taking a deep breath, and allowing her to take me over fully.

I gazed at my human face in the mirror. The hair was there, the golden eyes, the great horns, the red… What did she think of it as, again? A 'chainmail bikini'? Whatever it was, my host thought it 'inappropriate'. I disagree, but I respect her thoughts on the matter.

I turned toward the bathing tub, eyeing the mess. I sighed, wondering what darkness had tainted Emma Barnes into turning on Taylor. As it was, she was correct in my assumption that I could fix what had been done to her items.

I flexed my claws, magic flowing through them, igniting into tiny whirlwinds of flame that I snuffed out. I chanted, the multiple liquids that had tainted her equipment flowing into the drain. As the last remnants made their way into the sewers below, I pulled her bag out of the tub, and sat on the toilet, confirming that my magic had done its work. I sighed, before closing the bag again, and releasing Taylor's body back to herself. As my soul tried to re-enter the Soulstorm, I apologized to her for what her former friend had done, and gave her my best wishes that she could make up with all of the girls that had been tormenting her.

I also told her that I would not be happy if she ended up killing anyone.

I wasn't planning on it, and I wondered just how much she could read of who I was. How much all of them could. Soulstorm. None of them had referred to it as that before, but I had to admit, it had a flair to it.

I made my way downstairs, into the basement, after grabbing a fresh change of clothes, placing my bag in my room, and throwing my old clothes into the washer. While Alexstraza's Cleanse had likely been better than a normal one, I still liked to keep a semblance that I needed to use it. Shifting was quicker than a shower, but there was always the chance the Arthas Incident could repeat itself.

I shuddered. At least the PRT hadn't found Icecrown Citadel yet.