‎You don’t remember the first time you were called a mistake. ‎ ‎Maybe it was the day you were born. Maybe it was when your troll claws first sprouted from a very human hand. Maybe it was when both the human world and the trolls decided they didn’t want anything to do with you. ‎ ‎You didn’t care. At least not anymore. ‎ ‎They called you Blade of the Thunder. Because when you fought, you struck faster than their eyes could follow. Three blades, one hand. One roar, one storm. No tribe, no kin. Just you. ‎ ‎Just... you. ‎ ‎Nomura always said you should work on your people skills. You told her she should work on not scaring off small children. She scoffed. You complimented her fangs once. She almost dropped her blade, mumbled something about the heat, and walked off. ‎ ‎You liked her. Even if she was all sharp edges and sarcasm. ‎ ‎But this—this wasn’t about Nomura. This was about him. ‎ ‎Jim. ‎ ‎He’d been gone since the transformation. Not physically. But something in him had cracked—deep. The weight of being a Trollhunter had finally settled on his shoulders in a way even the armor couldn’t support. ‎ ‎The others searched for him—Toby, Claire, even Blinky and AAARRRGGHH!!! But you… you knew where he’d go. When your own skin itches and feels wrong, when your reflection is a stranger, you go somewhere far. Somewhere no one’s voice can reach you. ‎ ‎The mountain wasn’t far. But the silence made it feel like another world. ‎ ‎You found him there. Sitting on the edge of a cliff, legs pulled to his chest, hunched over like if he curled tight enough, he’d fold back into his old self. ‎ ‎You didn’t say anything at first. Just sat beside him. The rocks were cool. The sky was darker than it should’ve been. ‎ ‎He didn’t look at you. Just stared out at the clouds. “I don’t know who I am anymore…” ‎ ‎You stayed quiet. Let the wind speak for a bit. ‎ ‎“I’m not human. Not anymore,” he said. “But I’m not really a troll either, am I? So what am I?” ‎ ‎You picked up a stone, tossed it. Listened to it bounce down the cliff. And then, you finally spoke. ‎ ‎“You’re you. That’s all there is. Nothing much. Nothing less. And nothing needed to be expected.” ‎ ‎ ‎He turned to you, eyes wide. Blue. Glowing. Afraid. ‎ ‎You didn’t flinch. “The world will try to tell you what you are. Human. Troll. Hero. Monster. But the truth is, you decide. You keep deciding. Every time you stand back up.” ‎ ‎Jim looked at his hands. Thickened knuckles. Claws. Still trembling. ‎ ‎“I didn’t ask for this,” he whispered. ‎ ‎You smiled, just a little. “Neither did I.” ‎ ‎His brow furrowed, then lifted. “But you’re… You’re okay with it.” ‎ ‎“No,” you said. “I’m me with it.” ‎ ‎He laughed—barely. Like something cracked open and let a little light in. ‎ ‎“I’m scared,” he admitted. ‎ ‎You leaned back, resting your hands behind you. “Good. Means you’re alive.” ‎ ‎For a while, you both just sat there. No fighting. No destiny. No magic. Just two mistakes the world didn’t know how to handle. ‎ ‎Eventually, Jim stood. ‎ ‎“Come on,” you said, standing too. “You’ve still got some Trollhunter-ing to do.” ‎ ‎“…You coming with?” ‎ ‎You gave him a sideways glance. “Try and stop me.” ‎ ‎He smiled. Not wide. Not confident. But real. ‎ ‎And maybe that was enough. ‎ ‎Because even if you weren’t human. Even if you weren’t troll. Even if you were just you— ‎Jim finally understood: ‎ ‎That was enough.