An Icy Heart

by Räv (Belial_Aphroditus)

Summary:

A rash of disappearances catches Myotismon's attention and when he finds a small village that shouldn't exist he chooses to get to the bottom of this mystery. Even if his Servants want to go home.

Chapter 1: The village that shouldn't be

Notes:

1/16/2020 - Cleaned up this chapter a little, nothing plot wise changed.

Autumn was an old and dying man. His last warm breaths pushed through the trees as the bitter cold of winter grew stronger. The tree's bare branches clawed out in all directions. No longer in their glory days of spring and summer. The dirt path winding through the woods was in plain view from above. 

Devidramon ducked as it pulled a carriage down the path. Still branches scraped at and broke on Devidramon’s massive, leather clad body. Behind Devidramon, two Bakemon shuddered in their carriage seats. The pair of ghost Digimon weren’t sure what frightened them more; whatever was in the woods or who was in the carriage. 

 “Do you think what the guys say is true?” One Bakemon whispered to the other. 

“Keep quiet or he’ll hear you.” The other hissed. 

“But if they’re right. If this hunting trip isn’t real—” The first started before being cut off. 

“Then we’re fucked.” The other spat. “And if not, you’re giving him an idea and an excuse.” 

The two sat in silence for some time. 

The wind scraped dry, rotting leaves across earth. Their sound kept drawing the attention of the Bakemon. 

Even long before the dirt trail wore into the ground, Digimon whispered about these woods. Though back then only five or six digimon a year would vanish. Skeptical minds would blame those disappearances on the mundane. But two months ago their master, Myotismon, ordered the path widened. He thought little of the rumors until all the workers quit. Not that anyone, save Myotismon, blamed them. When fifteen of your co-workers disappear in the woods, why not just leave? 

Myotismon himself was the prime suspect as far as the castle servants were concerned. Many of the others thought his trip was cover. The only thing for him to hunt was his own attendants. After seeing his public cruelty over the years, they all shuddered to guess what he did away from others. 

“Do-do you think he will give us a head start?” The frightened Bakemon asked. 

“Shut. up.” 

Thunder rumbled from the North. Devidramon’s four red eyes looked up at the murky sky. It sped up before a sharp stop. 

The faster rocking did not stir Myotismon, who slept in his seat. He left the blinds up. Overcast days were a treat for him. Still being a nocturnal creature, he often ended up dozing off by the window or in his carriage. This foolish confidence could have become a deadly folly for many reasons. Lucky for him, today he would only get a skinned knee and a bruised ego. 

Stunned at his awakening from the throw forward, it took a moment for his usual behavior to kick in. When it did, he kicked open the door. “Why have we stopped?” Myotismon bellowed. 

One of the Bakemon pointed ahead. The storm to the North had drifted. Dumping enough water to turn the quiet creek into a raging river of muddy water and branches. The bridge was likely far down stream.

“Why didn’t you fly over it?” Myotismon raged, his attention now focused on Devidramon. 

This time Devidramon’s stomach growled its reply. 

“We didn’t get to eat before we left, sir,” the frightened Bakemon said. 

“So what are we supposed to do for food?” Myotismon asked. He attempted to pinch the bridge of his nose before remembering he wore a metal mask. “I doubt we have enough to feed a Devidramon.” 

Myotismon looked for something for him to dine. But all he found were bare trees. For a second he thought he saw a glint of light in the woods, but a breeze blew his bangs in front of his face. He tried to spot the glint again. Whatever it was, if anything, was gone now. 

“Yakitori,” Devidramon said, sniffing the air. 

“I don’t have any.” Myotismon said, looking at the Bakemon. 

They both shrugged. 

“Ya-ki-to-ri.” Devidramon said and began following its nose, taking the carriage with it. 

“Wait,” the others shouted and ran after Devidramon. 

Myotismon hovered fast enough to catch the open door. The Bakemon weren’t as lucky and had to cling to the back of the carriage. 

Crashing through the brush, Devidramon found another old trail hidden in the trees. The carriage bucked, sending Myotismon swinging as he clung to the door. Both Bakemon fell off as Myotismon watched. He inhaled to shout at Devidramon, but only yelped as a branch hit the door, knocking it shut. Trapped in the runaway carriage and tossed about, Myotismon tried to find something to hold on to. 

Tree limbs scratched and scraped at Devidramon and the carriage. Soon the branches that wove together gave up, and the carriage tore into a clearing. 

Once more, the carriage came to an abrupt stop, this time skinning Myotismon’s other knee. He threw open the door to the sound of gasps. Devidramon froze, mouth open, about to bite down on the yakitori still being held by a stunned Lilimon. Around them, about thirty Digimon of varied stages and types gawked. Stands advertising food and games lined up in front of them. Behind that was a small village.

Yet, Myotismon thought, there shouldn’t be anyone here.   

Even stranger was the flora. Unlike the path they were on, the trees still bore yellow, red, and orange leaves. This fiery display would have been visible through the trees. But he was certain he had seen nothing. It was as if he stepped into the height of autumn.

Myotismon cleared his throat and straightened up. “Good afternoon,” he said.

A Swanmon approached and spread its wings. “Welcome, my brother. Hungry? We will feed you? Tired? There’s always a bed here.” He said, cutting the tension like a knife through concrete. 

Myotismon didn’t bother to respond right away. He scanned the surrounding crowd. They were shocked but not afraid, at least not as much as they should be. 

They didn’t know who he was.

“We could use both. I will reimburse you.” Myotismon said.

“No need! No need!” the Swanmon honked. “There is noooo need here. We are all family here. And you don’t charge family stay.” 

Myotismon’s icy glare didn’t warm. “That’s fine.”

“Excellent, we can set your friend up in a barn outside of town and we will give you the best room in our inn.”

“I’ll stay in the barn as well.”

“What! Well, you see, the barn is…” Swanmon said, losing a few feathers as he jumped. “That’s—ah hah ha—fine, but the barn’s not in the best of shape. The bottom’s nice. Good for your friend, but there’s no bed.” Swanmon yammered on as Myotismon walked past him.

“I don’t need a bed and I’d rather not be separated from my attendants.”

“Attendants?” Swanmon asked with heavy emphasis on the ‘s.’

Myotismon looked back to the woods where the Bakemon had finally caught up. The leaves and twigs that dusted them fell as they straightened to attention. 

“Ah, I see.” Swanmon said and pointed with his wing. “If you would, please follow me.” Swanmon waddled away to a path on the other side of the field, away from the village. 

The leaves above them remained ablaze with warm colour until they turned a corner. Then the woods returned to an ashy, sober appearance. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed our peculiarity. The spells of the area are unique. Turn a corner and it’s summer, turn another, and it’s spring, turn again and-well you get it.” Swanmon said, calling back to them. 

“What happens if you leave the path?” Myotismon asked over the groan of the carriage. An axel and maybe some other important parts were breaking. Lovely, he thought.

Swanmon turned and walked backwards as he said, "Y’all will just keep walking into the trees. Once you lose sight of the trail, that is. These woods would just go on and on. Until you walk back to the trail, that is."

Myotismon nodded, and Swanmon turned back around. 

It was a good eight-minute walk to the barn. The trees were coming closer to reclaiming the barn. In a few more years, the wood barn would reunite with the woods. All that was left of the clearing were weeds and straw. Patches of lingering foxtail reached up to the top of his shins. Swanmon nattered about the hole in the roof, how it was drafty and so on. He kept insisting on just Devidramon staying here.

Myotismon spotted a puff of smoke coming from the back of the barn. He walked it and saw Magna Kidmon propped up against the barn. That wasn’t someone he was expecting to see here.

“You know, if we’re listening to Swanmon, leaning on that wall can be dangerous.” Myotismon said.

“If the wall falls, there’s plenty of soft hay to land on.” Magna Kidmon said and returned to his cigarette. 

Myotismon scoffed. “Ah, but then your cigarette will set the hay on fire. Then the roof will collapse on you and a sinkhole will open up. And as you fall to your death, you’ll think ‘oh, I should have stayed at the obvious trap inn.’”

At this point Magna Kidmon was holding back laughter, making him shake too much to smoke. He had taken the cigarette from his lips and was using his other hand to hide a smile. “He is terrible at this.” He said, his voice muffled by his hand. 

The two of them chuckled until Myotismon changed the subject. “You know, the last time I ran into your brother, he was still looking for you.” 

Magna Kidmon stiffened at the mention of his brother. “He’ll live.” 

Myotismon nodded. “What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“I’m the sheriff,” Magna Kidmon replied. 

“Out-law to sheriff,” Myotismon said, “that’s some career jump.” 

“It’s not as different as you think.” 

Myotismon hummed his response. 

Magna Kidmon finished his smoke and flicked the cigarette butt before speaking again. “Listen, you seem like a good guy. You should forget this place. Leave, but before you go stop by the bar for a drink. I’m there most nights. It’s next to the Obvious Trap Inn.” Finished conversing, he walked away.

Swanmon honked a surprised “Sheriff!” The thick-headed bird had been trying to convince the Bakemon to stay at the inn. Myotismon glared at the two leaving townspeople. “Just forget this place?” Myotismon said and turned his glare to the still lit cigarette butt. “Like hell I am.” He growled and stamped out the cigarette butt.

Chapter 2: Sunflowers

Myotismon walked out again under the cloudy sky. Somewhere beyond the clouds, the sun meandered down its evening course. Not wanting to wait, he occupied his mind with the mystery of this place. A tempting puzzle for the vampire digimon.

Now would be as good a time as any. It was only two hours until night at the most. 

With a Snap of his fingers, his familiar bats flew around him, scattering into the woods. As they traveled away from him, Myotismon saw through their eyes. Swanmon was right. What Swanmon didn’t tell him was what happened the further one went into the timbers. The grey trees gained a grimmer contrast as the pixels of the dirt and trees became obvious. It looked as if the environment’s programming was coming undone around them. The moment they turn around, the trail would be just behind them and everything would be back to normal. 

Then he heard the crunching of gravel and the groan of old wood. Myotismon tensed, ready to fight, even if he was weaker in the daylight. 

A wagon loaded with food rode up the path to the barn. The townspeople had made them a small feast. Myotismon curled his lip at the kind sight, but still relaxed a bit. 

With only a whiff of the meal, both Bakemon and Devidramon spilled from the barn. They bolted towards the cart. Bumping into one another, they only stopped for Myotismon’s glare. 

His back to the three stooges, Myotismon spoke to the delivery men. “Thank you for this generous offering. My men will be sure to unload the wagon so you can return home.” 

One spoke up. “Nah, not a problem at all. We can handle this.” Then the two took their time unloading the wagon. Eventually, the table in the barn creaked under the weight. The villagers left, dragging their wagon down the trail. 

Myotismon watched to make sure they were out of sight when he shut the barn door. Myotismon rolled his eyes at the fools. They kept ogling the food. 

Myotismon said, “Let me check first before you poison yourselves.” 

He sent out his bats as poison checkers. Everything was clear. Myotismon waved for them to eat, and the others pounced. Myotismon turned from the disgusting display. His bats move around the gorging digimon for their master’s fill. 

Walking outside, a cool breeze brushed his face as he looked down the empty path. He felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. That feeling of being watched pervaded. Yet, he only heard rustling leaves, scraping, scratching branches, and the creaking old wood of the barn.

Muttering curse words to himself for a moment, he went back to his experiments. He sent his bats out again. This time he sent them upward. He jerked his head up when he saw through their eyes. He could see them fluttering above him. Myotismon took his chance. He flew upward and over the trees towards the overcast sky. Looking down, he confirmed what he had seen through his bats. He looked down, and there was only forest. No barn below him and no town ahead of him. He flew back down, but the barn and clearing did not reappear.

If someone flies above the forest, they are removed from the pocket dimension entirely. He mused as he flew back to the road (giving a wide berth where the village would be) and found Devidramon’s wreckage to get back inside.

At least he had an escape plan now.

Back at the field, the tents and booths of the fair were gone. The quick work was impressive. He might have given credit to Swanmon, but he felt Magnum Kidmon was in control. 

The environment had also changed again. The field and village now sat in the middle of spring. Small multicolored wildflowers flecked the verdant clearing. That the change in climate could be so drastic, stunned Myotismon. Looking around for any sign of fall, he saw nothing lacking in vibrancy. 

Well, except for one tree. It sat on the other end of the field, without blossoms or leaves, just a few apples. The apples were very nice looking. The tree itself grew twisted and dark unnaturally, but other than that, it was fine. 

Myotismon reached out for an apple when someone spoke to him. 

“You shouldn’t take that.” A meek feminine voice said. 

Myotismon peaked around the tree to see who had spoken to him. 

The Lilimon from the fair hid behind the tree. “They d-don’t taste good.” She whimpered. Slinking away, she seemed to shrink in size. 

She tried to keep some distance between them, but Myotismon loomed down and pursued her around the tree. 

It became clear she wasn’t getting away. 

 “Hello, I-I’m Lilimon.” She said. 

Myotismon folded his arms. “I’m aware of who you are,” He said. 

Lilimon giggled and leaned her back against the tree. Tilting her chin to her shoulder, she tried to look friendly. It might have been cute in a girl next door kind of way, except for the ‘I’m-about-to-vomit’ pallor of her skin and the shaking. She asked, “Do you travel often? You must have seen so much.” 

 “Yes, but I don’t believe I’ve ever experienced this sort of magic? The set up is impressive. Do you know how it was made?”

Lilimon shrunk away as she shook her head. “Um, how far did you travel from?” She asked as she kept looking between him and the Devidramon made path. 

Myotismon’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a long walk. Far too long for someone to go alone.” He said and leaned close to the blushing digimon.

“O-oh.” She stammered. She turned away, and Myotismon took an apple from the tree. 

“Need a lift?” Myotismon asked as he slipped the apple into his clothes. 

Still trembling and looking away, she stammered out, “I-I don’t know.” 

“I could use a friend.” 

“Uh, what?” She asked and turned back to him. 

“A Friend,” Myotismon repeated. “Friends help one another. They help one find out about a place and give lifts far, far away from said places.” He said, walking closer. He closed the gap and touched her face. “Understand?” He whispered.

Lilimon bit her lip as more color flooded her cheeks. Her hands played with and tugged with each other as she looked at him in quick glances.

Lilimon nodded. “I can take you through town. I’ll tell anyone who asks, "I'm taking you to the sunflower field." She said and looked around nervously. "I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I can point out parts of town you may be interested in."

Myotismon nodded and held out his arm for her to take.

Waking down the village’s only road, Everything seemed normal. The folks seemed tired but kept working. Then they came upon the collection of jeeps outside the sheriff’s office filed with thugs glaring at them.

Lilimon clutched his arm tighter. “They’re here to keep everyone in line.” She whispered.

Counting them, he felt his throat dry. Ten enforcers were what he had expected. Twenty, he could handle easily. But there were well over thirty! That was a third of the village population. Looking around, he saw that the others all kept their heads down, looking away from the sheriff and his Digimon. 

They looked away from him, too. 

“You should still be at work, Lilimon.” Magna Kidmon said as he walked over.

“I asked her to be my guide. Show me around a bit. I hope that’s not a problem?” Myotismon responded and stepped forward to meet Magna Kidmon. 

The two only gave an inch of space to the other. 

Lilimon backed away. She looked at Myotismon while holding her hands to her face. 

The villagers slowed down to watch, but kept trying to look busy. Not that it mattered. Magna Kidmon’s goons were just as interested.

Myotismon’s eyes narrowed.

Magna Kidmon’s hand twitched just inches from his gun.

“A problem! No, no, no!” Swanmon honked, ruining the mood for the two’s pissing contest. The gigantic bird flapped around the two before stopping to grab Lilimon and pull her close to Myotismon. “Why, we are always here to help guests. Just where were you going to take him?” He said, barely hiding a hiss in his voice by the end. 

“She mentioned a sunflower field. I’ve always found unnecessarily large flowers interesting.” Myotismon said. 

“Uh… huh, I mean yes, I say I was just thinking that the other day. Silly things. So large.” Swanmon said and went to Magna Kidmon’s side. “I need to speak to you.” 

Myotismon took the hint and left. They waited until they were sure he was out of earshot to go into the sheriff’s office. 

For Myotismon, being out of earshot was a little harder to achieve. The ears on his head weren’t his only ears most of the time. He had many small ears attached to his many bats. Just like he saw through his bats, he could hear through them. So it was easy to eavesdrop by sending a bat into the building’s crawlspace. The floor was thin, so he did not need to risk finding a way into the room. 

“He isn’t upset!” Swanmon said, his voice cracking as he loudly paced.

“Calm down, shouldn’t that be good?” Magna Kidmon said. 

The pacing stopped. “Now listen here, the only thing worse than a man who is angry when he shouldn’t be is a man who isn’t when he should.” Swanmon said. 

“So what do you want to do?” Magna Kidmon asked. 

“I don’t know.” Swanmon sighed. “We got to get rid of those trespassers.” 

“I’ll get them. Should we dump them all at once?” 

“No-That might be dangerous. And the Sun will set soon too.” Swanmon said and sighed again. 

“He will not hold it back?” 

“No, he didn’t give a reason to either.” 

“You offer him money?” 

“You mad?! I need not insult him on top of all this!” Swanmon’s voice was getting loud enough to be overheard outside. 

Magna Kidmon noticed that too. “Keep it down,” He snapped. “Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do. That’s why I’m here, right? Just get everyone to hunker down until this all blows over.” 

“We must kill that Lilimon too.” 

Myotismon looked down at Lilimon. He may have gotten Lilimon killed. That may come to his advantage. It would take time to kill her.

Her grip on his arm tightened, but she still gave him a sweet look back. He didn’t let her in on what he was doing, but she caught on anyhow. She was smart, a trait he was fond of. He could still use her as a guide if he kept her alive.

He supposed he would have to pick when the time came

“That’s… a little extreme.” Magna Kidmon said back in the sheriff’s office.

“Sweet on her, Magna Kidmon?” Swanmon said and paced around again. This time slower. “I should have known. That little dominance display outside…”

“Please, give me some credit. I don’t get all moony eyed over that country girl. I just think the others might get upset. It’s not like she knows anything.”

“Let them get mad as long as they are more afraid. That’s the reason you’re here.” A door slammed shut, marking the end of the conversation.

“The sunflower field is on the trail behind the General store.” Lilimon said, catching his attention. “It doesn’t look it, but it’s got a real big basement.”

Myotismon gave a hum as his response and they turned down the dirt path.

The sunflower field was massive. He had seen diagrams of them and had met a Sunflomon or two, but he had never looked at a sunflower up close. Many of them reached up to Myotismon’s face, and some stretched higher. Giving in to his urge, he pulled off his glove and touched the many flowers that made up the plant’s ‘face.’ He swore it seemed to react to his touch. It was as if the small flowers tried to tickle some secret into his skin. He turned to Lilimon before he started counting them. 

The setting sun lit up her pink petals with fiery orange and red. The wind slipped between the firm stalks and down the well-worn path and softly pushed her skirt, highlighting softer hips. Though even after admiring this, what caught his breath was her back. Specifically, the white blouse she, like all the villagers, wore. It was stark, unblemished white from the collar to the hem tucked into her skirt. No slits, flaps or holes adorned it. There was no bulge or other hint of the fairy Digimon’s wings that should have been there.

One question he failed to ask. Why didn’t Lilimon just fly away? The answer was right in front of him. He walked to her and, as gently as he could, touched her shoulder blades.

She whipped around, giving him a burning glare that made even him step back. He just stared down at her. There was no feeling for her at all, especially not concern. Never be concerned. So it wasn’t seeing some hint of... something in his blue doe eyes that gave her anger pause. There couldn’t be a hint of anything that would pull dueling glints of fear and curiosity into her eyes. That he couldn’t look away from her eyes, black and glittering like beetles crawling from wet soil, meant nothing.

“We should get going,” she said, taking her eyes from him.

“There’s little to fear. No one will try anything this close to sunset,” Myotismon said. Then the sunflower between them exploded into bits as gunfire rang out from the other side of the field.