This is a spin-off to The Haunting of Sunshine Girl. This story follows Nolan's attempt to renounce his loyalty to the Markons and give up his Groundling title.

Takes place between parts 6 and 7 of HOSG, though is not required to be read. Violence and dark themes up ahead, but there will be your usual fair share of humor, don't worry! No Sunshine, Kat, or Uncle Tommy in this story except for flashbacks, sorry!

Now, let me stop blabbering. Enjoy the fic!

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Kat sighs. "Nolan, I think it's time for you to go."

"Look, if I go," he says desperately, "I don't know what's gonna happen to me, Kat. Sunshine keeps me safe!"

"Okay, and that's our problem how...?" Kat asks.

He looks betrayed.

"Nolan, we've tried to help you, we've tried to be your friend, and all you've done is lie to us."

"Not everything is a lie!" Nolan promises. "Okay? This isn't a lie." He reaches forward and grabs Sunshine's hand, closing the gap between them. "Sunshine."

"What are you doing?" Kat asks, eyes wide.

He stares at her eyes, green on brown, and his mouth opens and closes. Sunshine's heart thunders. "I...." Nolan hesitates and drops her hand, stepping back. "I'm sorry. Uh." He clears his throat. "I'm gonna...go. Uh. See you on the flip side." Nolan backs up to the door and opens it, quickly walking out.

________

Nolan cannot believe what just happened in there.

Every step he takes feels heavy, like his feet are thick weights only here to drag him down. Nolan can't focus, not really — everything inside of him is screaming for him to go back, to take Sunshine in his arms and explain his entire life to her, explain why he turned over to the Markons, but he can't. He's a coward.

His lips twitch angrily as he thinks about his actions. Attempting to kiss Sunshine? What was he thinking? A hollow scream rips from his throat as he walks down the sidewalk. He kicks pebbles out of his way and threads fingers through his ashen-gray hair, tears brimming in his eyes.

He's done for. He's absolutely done for. He's going to return to the Markons empty-handed, bringing no good news or ideas at all. He'll surely be killed the moment he steps foot into the castle.

"And that's our problem how...?"

He hisses as Kat's voice thrums around his head, pressure pulsing against his temple. He blinks heavy eyelids several times, attempting to keep himself awake, but agony and guilt is wearing down on him. Still, Nolan knows that if he falls asleep, he'll return back to the underworld immediately — Markons aren't exactly known for their great deal of patience, and if he's called, he's required to attend.

Oh, the perks of being a Groundling, he remarks bitterly, swishing his head around to look at Sunshine's house. Nolan allows his heart to constrict, lets himself have one peaceful moment of grief. He'll probably never be able to return, which he does understand, but certainly doesn't feel happy about. Why did you tell them? Why did you lose your head? Why did you give yourself up like that?

Nolan isn't exactly upset he's letting himself convert to the good side— no, he's been on Sunshine's side practically since they met (which was on September 9, 2011), since Sunshine saved him from Frank Loren— no, he's upset that he let this all happen in the first place. He could've been stronger, he could've pushed back against the Markons and found another way to renounce his Groundling title, but... he didn't. He didn't, because he's weak.

"Weak," his father bellows, gray eyes narrowed, "weak, just like your goddamn mom."

"But— dad-"

"Shut up!" Tom snaps, lifting his hand. Nolan flinches under the weight of the threat— his brown gaze is blown, wide and full of fear. Tom begins to laugh, a cackle stirring against his throat. "What? Are you scared, boy?"

Nolan truly hates those thoughts. Being around Sunshine, he hadn't lingered on them so long, had let them blow in the wind like crackled leaves. But now, well, now Nolan has no one but himself to rely on. He's afraid to go back home, afraid to see the concern and disgust in his mother's eyes. He's afraid, just like he's always been, just like his father always said. And now he has nothing to distract from his thoughts— not that he'll be living for much longer, anyway.

He grits his teeth as he continues walking, breathing heavily, attempting to calm his erratic heartbeat. Every step he takes farther from Sunshine's house is one step closer to death. Nolan knows the Markons won't be forgiving — why should they be? They never are, after all. And, even if Nolan has been a Groundling for years, it doesn't matter. They may be even harsher just because of the gravity of his mistake.

Of course, it's possible they'll smile, pat him on the back and forgive him, but, well. That's never been very likely, has it?

The sun is still a thick ball of light on the horizon by the time Nolan stumbles upon an abandoned house. His feet ache, harsh and sore, and he longs to fall asleep and get his punishment — or death — over with. No use dragging it out. I have to sleep eventually.

He purses his lips and slides toward the house, fingers curling against his sides. Nolan eyes the decrepit building, wood rotting from the sides, oak shingles sliding off the roof. A tree sprouts at the edge of the house, branches webbing across planks and windows, leaves spilling through open cracks. Nolan scrutinizes it carefully, frowning.

What a wonderful place to squat.

With a sigh, Nolan traipses through the overgrown grass, weeds slinging against his feet as he pushes forward. Nolan hisses when they tickle his ankles and leaps on the first step, adjusting his black shirt, wishing for a moment that he had his usual leather jacket. At least then I'd die with style.

A frustrated growl curls on his expression when he tries the door and it doesn't immediately open. He pushes his palm against the frame, using some of his pathetic body weight to slam it forward. Nolan stumbles slightly into the house, nearly choking on the dust that coats the air, dirt particles flying around like tiny gnats. He whooshes his hand in an attempt to wave the grime away, but of course, he doesn't end up achieving all that much.

Wonderful. I'll be killed by the Markons if this damn dust doesn't get to me first—! Nolan scrunches his nose and closes the door shut behind him, eyeing the broken glass windows and stepping over wooden pieces on the floor. Spray painted murals cling to the wall— Nolan's favorite is the colorful lizard decorated with money signs.

He picks his way through the rest of the house, slightly thankful about the lack of an upstairs— or downstairs. There also aren't any homeless people living here, so, double thanks. Another harsh breath pushes through Nolan's teeth as he pokes his head into the back bedroom, brows furrowing. There's a mattress pushed into the corner of the room, stained gray and black from years of wear.

Nolan feels disgusted with himself for a moment, recognizing that he's really no better than a bum if he sleeps here. Still, where else can he go? His mother's? Absolutely not.

Turning his chin, Nolan gazes out of the window, letting himself drop to the ground as he stares out against the sky. The most beautiful sunset he's ever seen plasters over the sky, a myriad of colors brimming over the horizon. Pinks, oranges, blues, and yellows blaze against thinly veiled clouds, streaking the last glimmer of sunlight with soft pastels. Nolan allows himself to close his eyes and the tension in his muscles loosens.

A whimper draws from his throat and he claws at his face, feeling the guilt weigh down as he reminisces about days of old — days spent with Sunshine, investigating his 'grandma's' house, delving deeper into the world of Black-Eyed Kids, laughs shared between both teenagers as they sat and talked in Sunshine's room. He even enjoyed spending time with Kat, and sometimes Uncle Tommy, at least when he wasn't playing the role of a mother hen.

Those thoughts bring a bittersweet smile to his chapped lips. Sunshine was possibly the first person that ever made him feel special — ever made him feel like he had a true purpose in life. With the Markons he was strung around the country, forced to go undercover and lure people out — people less powerful than a Luiseach, of course — for the Markons to snatch up and, well, probably torture, exorcise, then kill.

How much blood stains Nolan's hands? He cranes his chin down, inspecting his skin as if he'll find the answer he's looking for right there. No, the blood is practically invisible, drenched under a mask of lies and broken promises. Sunshine is the first person who's ever held me accountable for my actions. He hates himself for it, hates himself for letting it go this far, but some part of Nolan admires Sunshine for her strength. Would I have been able to do that, had the roles been reversed? Somehow, he doesn't think so. Then again, Nolan isn't widely known for his mental strength.

By the time he manages to pull himself out of his self-deprecating thoughts, the colors on the horizon have vanished, leaving behind a blanket of navy to coat the twilight sky. Nolan stares at the moon for a moment, hoping to use his last ounce of strength for his upcoming encounter with the Markons — it's a conversation he simply can't avoid. And now that I'm away from Sunshine, now that she feels so strongly against me, I have no choice but to heed to the Markons' calls. Usually, Nolan would be able to resist against their constant pushing, but he's no longer protected by Sunshine.

Not that she cares, anyway...

Frowning deeply and with worry, Nolan crawls over to the disgusting mattress, scrunching his nose at the vile smell — he swears he feels the ghost of bed bugs crawling over his pale skin. A tremor runs through his body and he forces himself to curl up into a ball, wrapping his long arms around his thin legs. Nolan pushes his face into the crook of his arms, attempting to stay warm while avoiding the terrible stench of the mattress. Not that it'll matter much longer, anyway. I'll be dead before the cold even starts getting to me...

Despite having such dark thoughts in mind, Nolan is able to relax fairly quickly. His eyes squeeze shut and his breath evens out, pushing air through to his chest. Darkness swamps his vision before a trail of mist slides over his gaze, warping shape and color into his mind. Nolan's eyes snap open and he jerks, slightly caught off guard at the speed and efficiency of his departure to the underworld.

He wakes in his bed. Looking around, Nolan sighs, dropping his feet to the ground and slowly standing to his aching feet. Unfortunately, any injuries from the overworld hurt just as much down here — and, of course, vice versa. Wonderful. Gritting his teeth, Nolan stumbles out of his bedroom and into the living room. His underworld house looks the exact same as his childhood home, save for Marcie and Colin. Nolan walks past the kitchen and fumbles with the door, sucking in oxygen. He's fine. He's absolutely, positively fine.

With that reassurance, Nolan opens the door and finds himself on the porch of his house. He looks up towards the sky, watching the never-ending gray storm brew above his head. It's never sunny down here — another wonderful thing about the underworld, probably just behind only being able to access it while unconscious. At least I'll look slightly peaceful while the Markons murder me.

He scratches a hand through his hair, shutting the door behind him. Nolan walks down the sidewalk and offers a cursory glance toward the grass, which is stained in a slight red tint. Because, of course, foliage here can't just be green — the Markons need to show off their evilness.

As Nolan continues walking he looks ahead in the distance toward a looming castle. Red-bricked and seemingly ancient, Nolan shivers at the idea of having to enter again. If I'm lucky, I'll be locked in the dungeon before they kill me... It's a huge castle and there's certainly more than enough space for the Markon council, but they are quite dramatic — much more than even Nolan is.

As his trek goes on, Nolan spots a few other Groundlings milling about, trimming their gardens or talking in the street. Funny, how they take their underworld homes so seriously — Nolan certainly doesn't give a shit about the state of his house. Not that he's there much, anyway, but he does at least enjoy waking up on a warm bed in a home filled with questionable food. Nonetheless, Nolan walks by them and doesn't even glance towards them, ignoring their greetings and queries. He's so close, just a few more steps and he'll be awaiting his doom at the hands of the Markons...

He eventually makes it to the entrance of the castle, not even acknowledging the guards as he enters. Nolan walks through hallways and corridors, controlling his labored breathing. The area suddenly opens up at the end of the hallway, revealing a red-and-black marble council room. Up ahead, Nolan can see the four Markons sitting in their chairs, watching Nolan carefully as he approaches his superiors.

"Ahh, Nolan," one of the Markons— Kaius— says, a wide smirk on his face. He closely resembles a demon, red and charcoal scales protruding from his dark skin, with an elongated neck and sharp claws scoring the leather chair below him. His tail whips back and forth, paws crossed over one another as he raises a brow down at Nolan. "Have you brought good news?"

Nolan swallows, trying not to let his nervous tics take over. "Um— well, I do bring news—"

"We don't have all day," Wulfa snaps, fangs poking out of his mouth. He looks nothing like a human and everything like the typical Markon. "Spit it out, Nolan."

"Yes, I am very curious," Ealda says, squinting her beady black eyes, "it is unlike you to prioritize yourself above weekly reports."

"Perhaps we should teach him a lesson!" Vyncis quips, gaze shining much too bright.

"Now, now," Kaius hushes, waiving his hand toward the other Markons, "I'm sure Nolan has a perfectly reasonable explanation for his lack of communication... right?" he almost purrs.

"Um... right," Nolan nods, trying to puff out his chest. He really, really doesn't want to admit to these creatures that he's completely and utterly failed his mission, but what choice does he have? "Things have actually been... quite chaotic, these past few weeks."

Wulfa rolls his eyes, looking away, clearly impatient.

"Explain," Ealda says calmly.

Vyncis munches on a human head, twilight-speckled eyes wide and juvenile.

Kaius leans forward, listening closely.

"Um— well, you know that Sunshine's been training, but something happened that none of us really expected. Uh." Nolan looks down and kicks at a stray rock, gritting his teeth. "Sunshine was possessed."

Every inch of air seems to leave the room that instant. He hesitantly looks up, watching the Markons' eyes — they're all equally filled with shock and disbelief.

"Not possible," Wulfa finally snarls, pointed tail lashing. "We did not give the blessing to any Groundling!"

"It wasn't exactly a— Groundling—?" Nolan says.

"Well, it wasn't a demon," Ealda frowns. "They simply are not capable of possessing a Luiseach. In fact, most full-grown Markons cannot influence a Luiseach."

"Well," Vyncis smirks, "I can."

Kaius is frowning deeply, his usual psychotic charm masked by something much more deadly. "Elaborate, Nolan. If it wasn't a demon and it wasn't a Groundling, what was it?"

Nolan swallows thickly. "Uh. It was— it was a hybrid."

Quiet.

"A hybrid?!" Wulfa eventually splutters, practically frothing at the mouth. "That is impossible! We have set up laws to prevent this kind of— this kind of mingling! I was there when the rule was put in place!"

"Wulfa," Ealda soothes, draping one leg over the other, "calm down. No one questions your loyalty to the code or the Markons."

Wulfa scrunches his nose angrily.

Ealda swivels her onyx gaze to Nolan, tilting her head. "Do you know who this hybrid was? I assume it was part demon, part Groundling?"

"Yes," he nods in affirmation, wringing his hands together. Nolan can't remember the last time he was this nervous. "Um— I mean, it was cast out then killed, so I don't think you have to worry about finding it."

"The parents?" Kaius asks, as if it's obvious. "They certainly need to be found and... dealt with accordingly."

"I volunteer punishing them!" Vyncis says eagerly, raising the human's dismembered hand into the air.

"We're all surprised there," Wulfa mumbles bitterly.

Kaius narrows his eyes. "I hope that is not all you've come to tell us, Nolan?"

His throat suddenly feels dry, almost like he's licked a thick pile of sand. "Erm, no, it's not, um." Nolan clears his throat. "Other things... have happened."

"Oh, just spit it out already!" Vyncis suddenly snarls, his usual childish behavior replaced by something much more malevolent. He slams his fists on the armrests of his chair, ruby tail whipping behind him. "Hurry up so I can punish those stupid rule-breakers!"

Nolan forces himself not to flinch, swallowing down bile. "Okay. Then I'll lay it all out straight. Sunshine's mentor was killed during the exorcism, along with the demon. Something... happened to me, after. I don't know if some part of the demon came into me, but I didn't feel like myself. I attacked Sunshine's uncle, and..." He feels sick. "Well, when I later returned, I... I admitted my position as a Groundling."

The silence that follows is absolutely horrible.

Nolan squeezes his eyes shut, terrified of seeing their faces, terrified of hearing what they'll say, but forces himself to not be a coward for once in his life. His doe-colored eyes slowly crack open and he takes in the councils' expressions.

Kaius looks infuriated while Ealda vibrates with silent rage. If Wulfa's looks could kill, Nolan would certainly be dead. Vyncis only now comes to the realization of Nolan's words and his eyes widen in disbelief, betrayal written all over his face.

"You what?" Kaius snarls, voice low and deadly.

This time, Nolan does flinch. "I..." He's at a complete loss for words. "Look, my, my situation was compromised! I had to tell them! Otherwise they were just going to become more suspicious and trust me even less—"

He doesn't even register the movement for a moment, doesn't see the staff curled tight in Kaius's hand until it slams into his face. Nolan grunts, pain skyrocketing through his skin as his body flings through the air and smacks to the dark marble ground. Stars dance in his vision, threatening to pull him back into the overworld.

Claws thread through Nolan's hair and jerk his head upward. He pries his heavy eyelids open, squinting at the Markon towering above him. Kaius's lips are curled into a deadly snarl, fangs angled forward. "I should kill you where you stand, you dirty Awaken."

Nolan chokes on his breath, head spinning. "N-no, please," he begs lamely, "I'll... how can I fix th-this?"

"You can't," Kaius hisses, smoke billowing from his nostrils. He almost looks like an angered dragon. "I have known you for a decade, Nolan, and I must say that I never expected this betrayal from you." His eyes narrow. "You were such a fine Groundling, too... what changed, Nolan? Why did you tell them?"

The pain is so harsh Nolan isn't entirely sure he can speak. He tries to open his mouth but nothing comes out.

"SPEAK!" Kaius snarls, slamming Nolan's head into the ground.

He whines softly, body aching with the impact of the blow. "Please... please, stop, I can't..."

Kaius scoffs. "Pathetic. I should've known... you are an Awaken, after all." He tugs Nolan by the hair and drags him out of the room and into a wide corridor, lashing his tail against Nolan's face, creating two deep lacerations in his cheek and above his brow. Blood dribbles into Nolan's eyes and he begins to panic, bucking his limbs.

"Wh-where are we going?" Nolan whimpers, voice rough. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Not yet. I must discuss your fate with the entire council. I certainly have no problem torturing you, though."

Nolan's head jerks against each step they descend down, and as he blinks open his eyes, he sees the lights pulse until he's swamped in shadows. He adjusts to the darkness and suddenly realizes where they are — the dungeons.

Kaius brings him to the end of the hallway, slamming open a cell and pushing Nolan to his aching feet. He harshly slaps a hand across the teen's face, watching blood flow down his bruised face. Kaius reaches forward and clasps shackles around Nolan's wrists and ankles, leaning back to observe his work.

It must be satisfactory, because the next thing Nolan knows, a whip is slashing into his back. A guttural scream rips from his mouth, vibrating through his entire body. His head hangs forward and his knees buckle, but the chains are lifting him up in the middle of the cell. Nolan begins to sob, desperately pleading with Kaius to leave him alone, but his whimpers only seem to spur the Markon further.

One, two, three, four, he tries to count, but loses his train of thought when more lashes cut into his back. Nolan continues sobbing, tears dribbling down his cheeks, wondering what Sunshine would think seeing him in this situation. Weak... weak, you're just weak...

The whipping continues until silence fills the room. A shadow crosses in front of his vision and his head is jerked forward by Kaius's hand. "Open your eyes."

Nolan does as he is told, hardly able to see the outline of Kaius through his daze. "K...aius..." he slurs.

The Markon curls his lip. "If you're lucky, you'll live. You'd best hope the others vote for your safety. If not, then I'll certainly relish in flaying you limb from limb."

He shakes his head, nearly passing out from the whiplash. "N...noooo..."

"Goodbye, Nolan." Kaius pauses, smiling jaggedly. "Oh... and don't even think of going to the overworld. Your privilege of traveling back and forth has officially been revoked."

Kaius drops Nolan's head and whisks out of the cage, locking the cell door behind him. Nolan can feel exhaustion dripping around his vision, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness. His fingers clench and he drops the entirety of his body weight, letting the shackles hold him up.

I'm sorry, Sunshine, he thinks pathetically, wishing he could wipe the tears away from his face. I'm sorry that I couldn't save you... that I can't protect you... I'm sorry that I let you down.

Those thoughts are the last things running through Nolan's mind before he passes out from pain, exhaustion, and a seemingly endless stream of grief.

~
Hi everyone reading! Just wanted to note that this is all completely original and made up by me, but should align well enough with my slight alteration of HOSG as well as its original content. This will definitely be an angsty book, but I think we're all used to Nolan getting the blunt of torture, so... here's me adding a little more!

I expect this to be around 10 chapters, and I'll be writing it as I continue part 7. Feel free to tell me what you think and leave some comments! They always make my day, hehe.

Next up, there's a light at the end of the tunnel for Nolan, and he makes an unusual connection with another Groundling.

Thanks for tuning in, boys and girls, and I hope you enjoyed! Have a wonderful day!