Wilson slowly woke, his head spinning. Where... where am I? He thought, his eyes adjusting to the area. Red and white marble pillars, crimson rugs and unbearably bright torchlight. Willow's Temple.

Sitting up, Wilson noticed blood-red blankets fall from his chest. They were trimmed with golden thread, the corners laced beautifully. Talk about fancy, he thought, mildly disgusted at how the Gods pampered themselves so.

The room he was in had tall ceilings, a glass dome letting sunlight shine through. Pillars connected the ground and ceiling, details so sharp in their surface they could cut someone. A red carpet led from his bed to a door on the opposite side of the room.

This is a little much, Willow, Wilson thought bitterly. Standing, still a little groggy and shying away from the heat of the torches, he made his way to the door.

The door had a similar appearance to the pillars. The wood was carved with no mistakes, the golden handles shining in the light. Scoffing, jealousy now starting to build, Wilson shoved the doors open, unprepared for the weight that slammed into him as soon as he did so.

That weight happened to be Willow. She was wearing her normal fire red dress with orange and yellow flame designs at the edges. "Wilson! I've been so worried we all thought you died!" She wailed, which wasn't usually how she'd react. But Wilson didn't care, because her touch was burning him alive.

"W-Willow! G-get off! That hurts!" He screeched, frantically trying to pull the woman off him. He felt like he was on fire.

Realization hit Willow, and she reeled back, taking a few steps back. She gave him an apologetic look, which she has never done to anyone. What is up with her??? Wilson asked himself, confusion building.

"Sorry, I forgot you're pretty much made of ice," she said, fiddling with her hands nervously.

Wilson narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what was causing this strange behavior. Maxwell had appeared at the meeting, telling us what he was doing... He was still trying to piece it together, making him oblivious to the blush rising on Willow's cheeks.

"Well, you have to be careful. I'm not exactly the most fireproof god," Wilson scoffed, his annoyance with Willow remaining strong.

"R-right," she replied, interlocking her hands tighter. Why is she acting like this??? Wilson yelled in his mind.

"What's wrong?" He finally asked, making her flinch. She looked away for a moment before she replied.

"It's just... I'm worried. About Wendy and Abigail. What if they did disappear?" Willow looked up at Wilson, her brown eyes now noticeably bloodshot.

Wilson was taken aback. She's been crying, He observed, realizing that if this situation could make the highest tempered of them cry, it was more than many of them could handle.