“Go on, Painter. Try it!” 

Trembling, Ozzy followed the direction of the pointed red claw. Vira’s grin was wide, excited, almost manic as she pointed at the familiar shop—a place that Ozzy had passed by more times than he could count, and whose shopkeeper had never been anything but bright and bubbly.

Unis Clothing.

“Um…” Ozzy held the Acrimonious Paint Brush tighter, hoping that would quell his shaking. It didn’t help much, but something about the grey energy emanating from the brush did manage to soothe something inside him. That made sense, though. The brush was made for him, after all…

…Right?

“Oh, come on. Don’t be such a wimp,” Vira chastised, rolling her eyes. “You heard what our patron said, right? With that, you can make everyone feel the way you’ve felt your whole life. Then they’ll get it! We won’t be freaks and outcasts anymore!”

Vira had a point. It was true; Ozzy did feel like a freak and an outcast. He didn’t have friends other than Vira—Anymore, he thought bitterly—and the few he’d had before her had all left, never to be seen again. Nyx… Styx…

Nobody loves you when you’re ugly and twisted. 

And Ozzy was more twisted than anyone. He had to be, right? Otherwise, Nyx wouldn’t have left. Styx wouldn’t have left.

Still…

“B-but Ellia is always so nice,” he said, even as he stepped out of the bushes and started walking toward the clothing store. It was dark out, but the lights were still on in the shop—Ellia must have been staying late to take stock or something. It worked out for him and Vira for her to still be there, but…

“Oh, please. It’s all just an act,” Vira said, turning her head away. “Nobody’s nice to people like us unless they want something. That’s just how the world works.”

“But what could she possibly want from someone like me—?”

“I don’t know!” Vira threw her arms into the air. “All I know is that she’s happy all the time and we’re not. Don’t we deserve to be happy too? Shouldn’t she have to experience what we do?” 

Ozzy frowned. He still didn’t like it, but… Vira was right. Ellia was always happy, and she was always shoving that sunshine in everyone’s faces, even when they were grey and gloomy and didn’t want to be around someone so cheerful. When had she ever really thought about how other people might have felt? How Ozzy might have felt? 

Resolve set, Ozzy lifted the brush. He stomped toward Unis Clothing, threw open the door, and…

The trek to Meridell was a difficult one. It was further than Ozzy had ever gone before, let alone hiked, but it was made easier with Vira by his side, crowing about all they had done: how drab and dark things were getting, how nobody bothered them with their stupid smiles anymore, and how sad and pathetic that Mynci in Neopia Central was with his grey hot dogs and watery mustard. 

(Ozzy had felt horrible about that one, with how often he and Nyx and Mr. Hornelius had gone to Hubert’s Hot Dogs for lunch; but it had been almost easy to ignore his guilt once he’d felt the thrum of power warming the brush in his hands.) 

They reached the top of the hill. Vira landed on the ground next to Ozzy, and Ozzy took a deep breath. Shockingly, he wasn’t as winded as he’d expected to be from how steep the hill was. Could he have been getting stronger, or…?

“You think you’re up for it?” Vira asked, crossing her arms and tipping her head towards the castle they could see in the distance. 

“I’ve never greyed out a whole land before, but… I… I think I can do it,” Ozzy said. Surprisingly, he felt more confident than he sounded. No, he didn’t think he could do it—“I know I can.”

“That’s the spirit!” Vira cheered. “Now, on my count: Three… two… one…!”

Ozzy lifted the Acrimonious Paint Brush. A grey glow began to emanate from it, as it always did—but this time, violet bubbles started to form and pop in the air, too. That was new. 

Somehow, it felt right.

He took a deep breath, and with one swing of the brush…

The land around them grew dull and dreary. Grass shrivelled up; healthy soil dried out. Trees began to droop and leaves began to fall from their branches, wrinkled and brittle. Inch by inch the grey spread before them, running over and through everything like a hose flooding a garden, darkening the dirt and seeping into the land beneath.

Emboldened, Ozzy stepped forward. He almost couldn’t hear Vira cackling over the rush of breath and blood in his ears, almost couldn’t feel the breeze dying in the air through the prickle of the fur on his cheeks. He swung the Acrimonious Paint Brush again, and again, each swipe of it stronger and faster than the last, more enthusiastic; he was a conductor leading an orchestra, filling the world with a symphony of his patron’s design. The spread of the grey quickened, and with it so did his heartbeat; colour and vibrance couldn’t jump from the land fast enough, nor could they dampen Ozzy’s spirits in the least. And with every little bit of vibrance gone, the brush grew warmer, and Ozzy’s body lighter…

The Acrimonious Paint Brush is warm in Ozzy’s hands now, humming with stolen power—just as it had all that time ago. It’s very nearly shaking with excitement, as though it has a will of its own—as though it’s trying to suck out the vibrance of this place, too. As though it hungers for it.

He looks over at Iridesia. The brush seems to jump in his hand, pulled toward them like a magnet seeking its polar opposite. Ozzy looks down to it, then back up at them—and then he knows, in his heart, what he has to do.

But will it work?

He shakes his head. There’s no time to doubt himself. Nyx and the others are in trouble, and he might be the only one who can save them! 

“But I can’t do it alone,” he says. “I’ve never been able to do anything on my own before.” 

Next to him, Styx barks. Ozzy startles because he hadn’t realised that his best friend had come back to check up on him, but a smile slowly begins to spread across his face, and he reaches down to pat the little grey Doglefox’s head.

“You’re right, Styx. It’s okay to ask for help. But I can’t depend on other people to do everything for me.” 

“Arf!” 

Ozzy laughs. “Yeah,” he says. Then, resolve set, he calls out to his new friend.

“Iridesia! I need your help!”