it's just a burning memory ( all that follows is true )

by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz, paintdrinker4000

Summary:

Excerpt : Chapter Sixty - Seven

 

Her touches could bruise the skin on their hands. She hoped it did. A ring of purple and blooming green over their fingers. Far more permanent than a wedding band.

Moments could pass into hours, time flowing like thick syrup in the sweet air of the garden. The couple was deaf and blind to the concept of such things. They only existed in the concept of the passing beat of a heart and the steady thrum of a pulse. Blood rushing beneath the surface, warming skin once cold.

The words never stopped spilling from mouths, filling their minds. An endless river of truths and confessions. A desire to be left barren before each other, seen in every possible way. Vacante’s lips snagged against the skin of Bela’s brow as she pried back.

Chapter 1: Have You Dreamed This Woman?

Bela tugged for the umpteenth time at Johnny’s arm, still his form did not move from where he was clutching to the metal desk of his new laboratory.

“Cmon,” She grunted, leaning into her next tug and still achieving no movement from the man. Letting go of his arm she stumbled back, her heels clicking on the floor, and her arms windmilling as she tried to maintain her precarious balance. Johnny watched her and made no movements to run forward and help, after all they both knew she would catch herself if she fell.

After a short struggle with gravity Bela reoriented herself and planted both her hands on her hips, looking for all the world like a disappointed mother.

“Johnny,” she said warningly, Johnny watched her impassively, “c'mon it won't be like the 80’s world I showed you, I promise.” She held her fingers up like a scout swearing their honor, Bela had never been a scout.

Johnny glared slightly at the mention of the 80’s world, they both agreed that what happened in that world would stay in that world, but it softened at her attempt to make him laugh. Sighing, he stood from where he had perched himself, seated at his metal desk and carefully walked the short distance to Bela.

‘Are you sure?’ Bela nodded encouragingly at his thoughts. Smiling brightly, she reached out and grabbed both his hands with her own and leaned in close enough to make their noses touch.

“Yep! I promise that you'll enjoy this world, I've already scouted some of it and I just had to show it to you!”

Sighing he looked off to the side, ‘If you say so, let me grab my notes and tell Ian first though.’ Bela smiled, leaned back and skipped out the door of the lab giggling manically all the while. Pausing at the doorway she leaned back far enough that her long curls brushed the tiled floors.

“Meet me in the meeting hall of the temples!” Then she shot back up and ran off to Gods know where, Johnny watched her go with a slight smile. Moving through his lab he grabbed for his notebook and journal, the metal of the lock placed on it clinked against his notebook. He remembered the day Ian had given it to him, a few months after they had arrived in this alternate world, he smiled at the memory.

Casting his gaze around his lab, he began to walk out the door, discarding his lab coat for his usual blue silk cloak as he did. Tucking the journal and notebook into a secret pocket Bela had mended into the fabric for him he began to prepare himself for the conversation he would have to have with Ian. Neither of them liked when they had to leave each other, but Ian especially hated it, even more so when he was going to other worlds. The only reason he was allowed to leave without Ian himself following along was because of Bela’s influence. To this day he still hasn't found a time to ask her how she convinced the stubborn man.

—

The duo landed gracefully on the trodden dirt path, sparkles of blue light and magic drifted around them and flowers blossomed from where they hit the ground. The area around them was desolate and quiet, clearly many people didn't come this way.

Johnny pulled his notebook out from its hidden pocket and held out a hand, on instinct Bela magicked him a pen filled with golden ink. She said the color looked nicest to write with, he thinks she just liked it cause it matched Thea’s hair.

Crouching down, Johnny began to write notes about the various plants that grew from Bela’s magic. He had never seen them before, not on his or Bela’s world. So they must be native to this world. As he went about his frantic notetaking Bela found herself growing increasingly bored. Looking around she saw nobody nearby and she deflated a little, that meant nobody to play with until Johnny was finished with his notes.

Sighing she cast her gaze around again as the minutes ticked by, she didn't dare move from Johnny's side knowing if she did she'd likely lose him as he usually got too invested in his notes and would wander off to write and the trees and their fruits or something of the like.

A brief flit of movement caught her eye, she whipped her head around eyes wide and glowing. Involved as he was in his research Johnny still noticed the change in his friend and looked up at her from where he crouched.

‘Notice something?’

“Yeah.” She kept her response short, and she wasn't smiling anymore. That was never any good, so Jhonny slipped his notebook and pen away and quickly stood up, readying himself for a possible fight.

The movement came again, Bela turned, raised her hand, and suddenly something was flying their way. Covered in blue magic lay a man, at least, Bela thought it was a man. Whatever he was, he was rather short. She let her magic keep him floating before the two, the man didn't struggle at all and dead vines hung from his arms and legs. Peeking through his ruined and burnt sweater as well.

Briars worked their way around his feet, which were without shoes. Berla cocked her head at the figure before her, then her smile returned. Johnny looked at her and then back to the man.

‘Do you know him?’

She laughed at the question, let her magic drop the man in an unceremonious heap, and grabbed Johnny at the shoulders, turning him around to face her.

“How would you feel about making our duo a trio?” She asked, eyes manic and smile twitching with excitement.

The man groaned from where he lay, Johnny cast his gaze back at him and noted that it seemed like the vines were growing from him instead of simply being wound around him.

‘Can I study him?’ He looked at Bela and watched as she smiled wider, eyes closed in glee.

“Of course! Think of it like your introduction to me all over again, besides,” She paused and let go of Johnny, placing a finger on her chin, “I think I know a way to convince him to let you examine him.”

She walked gracefully over to the heap of a man, and gently nudged him with her pristine and shiny heels.

“Wakey, wakey!” She cheered, the heap groaned, she frowned and kicked him.

“Wake up, don't you want Jasper to come back?” The heap jolted and shot up, grasping at her skirt with dirtied hands.

“How do you know his name?!” The man yelled, voice hoarse. Johnny studied the man, did he have a mushroom hat or was that part of his actual head? So many questions to ask, so little time. He itched to bring the man back to his lab so he could properly study him, after all, he seemed like a rather intact specimen. Physically of course, but then again, it never mattered to Johnny if his specimens remained intact mentally.

Bela reached down and grabbed the man's hands gently, bending down to his height so he wouldn't have to look up at her.

“I read your mind silly!” She stated, almost as though it should have been obvious. The man deflated clearly hoping for a different answer, and sat back down on the ground. The dirt floor further messing up and sullying his black pants. The mushroom on his head seemed to react to his emotions as well, the slight spots and designs on it disappearing and being replaced by a rusty red.

Bela pursed her lips and used a gloved hand to tilt the man's head up.

“Rowan,” she said gently, a large smile appearing on her painted mouth,”I can bring him back if you'd like.”

The man, Rowan, Johnny's mind supplied, seemed unconvinced.

“How would you do it?” The briars continued to trail over his sweater and ears, which were covered with matted and brown hair. For some reason Johnny was reminded of himself, before he met Bela, back when he stayed stuck in his lab all day. Back before she gave him Ian again.

“I’m a reality warper, honey. Surely you've heard of those before.” Rowan it seemed, had not heard of them, but Johnny could see a light return to his eyes. Hope? Desperation? one of the two of course.

“Could you really bring him back?” Bela smiled again, manic and wide. And swept her arm over to Jhonny who stood by and watched the whole interaction.

“Of course, after all, I got his lover back, right Johnny?” Johnny stared unblinking at the mushroomed man, but nodded, at Bela’s question. Afterall, if they could get whoever this Jasper was back, then surely the man would be agreeable to having just a few tests ran on him. Even better if he could convince whoever Bela was promising to return to allow him to run tests of them too.

Rowan considered the two, the man in his blue glittering outfit with a hollow expression and the smiling woman with far too much energy. If they could help him get Jasper back, if it was really true what she was saying…

Rowan could hear whispers, something that sounded like Jasper, telling him not to trust them. But what did he have to lose by agreeing to her plans? Afterall, Jasper was gone, all that remained was his hallucinations, and soon maybe those would leave too. Rowan would do anything for a chance to see Jasper again. To hold him, to kiss him. He could see the woman's smile grow wider, her eyes narrow and piercing. She already knew his choice.

“Okay.” He said and shakily he stood, the woman cheered, hopping on her heeled feet. Magic swirled around them, warm like a summer's day. The floor dropped from under them. Rowan could hear Jasper’s voice again, screaming. He ignored it, it was all in his head after all. When the magic cleared, a field of flowers remained. The trio was gone.

Chapter 2: This Would Be Really Funny, If It Weren't Happening To Me.

Meanwhile…in the middle of nowhere

 

“WHERE THE FUCK AM I?!” Jasper’s shout echoed in the empty white space around him, filled with mostly shapes of different colors and random patterns in the air floating.

He couldn’t remember much on the account of him almost being killed…well that was the thing, almost.
See he remembers his life flashing before his eyes as the slash of the beast’s claws severed his waist and boom, he landed here.

He placed a shaky hand towards his abdomen and felt the force of it but no blood? This was too much for him, especially leaving his soon to be husband alone. The guilt left him breathless and left him wandering the white void, slumping his back thinking about Rowan.

Jasper could recall his mother telling him about an emergency spell she placed on him if there was ever a moment he was in danger. The notion was stupid enough to make him laugh…she didn’t care about him not until-

A sudden flash of bright light catches Jasper off his traumatic backstory and he slowly walks to where it was flashing.

A star twinkling in front of him spins clockwise as it brightens even more. ‘What is this?’ He thought, reaching a hand to touch and suddenly the whole room was encased in the light blinding him.

…

Jasper slowly creaks his eyes open to see…

“ROWAN?!!”

he couldn’t believe his eyes. He knelt down as tears fell down his face. He could see his lover again, but it wasn’t in person, no, it was a camera viewing of some sort. He could see Rowan’s town was a bit desolate for his taste and saw the state Rowan was in…

His hair was matted and a darker oak brown, his eyes were sullen and reddish from crying he presumed and… he was wearing one of Jasper's shirts under his sweater. His heart never felt so heavy and burden filled. He didn’t know Rowan would take it so hard but he would be the same way too, heck maybe destroy the universe with it too.

He couldn’t stand seeing him this way and the fact he found his engagement ring and tied it to a necklace made him breakdown. He didn’t mean for this to happen, he wanted to protect his mush’s smile, his touch, his entire being and now he’s in the middle of GOD WHO KNOWS WHERE!

Jasper stood up and kicked violently in the air, frustrated at who put him here while his partner was decaying mentally in front of him when suddenly…

“Wakey, wakey!”

A woman's voice? He glanced back to see a tall dark woman dressed in housewife clothing talking to Rowan while he was on the ground. Something about her made him feel uneasy, sensing there was a great power inside her.

He stood more closely to the screen, observing what was happening next. He noticed she got quite upset and kicked Rowan in retaliation.

“D-did…she fucking kick my man?!” WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH HER ARGH! Jasper was boiling with rage, wanting to come down there and give her a piece of his mind. His hair flowed fiercely, spots of inky black blobs came off his body as he tried to listen in more.

“That other man…he…something is off with them” Jasper rambled on why he looked like that. There was manic over there while the mute one was eyeing Rowan like a hamster. The fuck was happening…what the hell is with their energy.

“Could you really bring him back?”

No…Jasper saw the way she smiled. Her corners of her mouth weren’t normal as she kept promising to bring him back. He tried yelling to say no and run away from them but it was no use. He saw Rowan look up for a second but returned to his sad expression and eventually agreed.

Jasper fell to the ground, he had to get him out of there but how? He was technically a shell of a body and had to figure out that part too. He looked to see Rowan being carried by that…thing and disappear. The camera glitched as it was trying to reroute their position.

Jasper sighed from the stress and held his hand up trying to imagine if this never happened. If he tries to close his eyes, he imagines Rowan smiling with beads of tears in his eyes while they walk down the flower covered aisle. Jasper doesn’t sleep anymore because of this.

“I miss him… I’ll get you back, even if I have to sacrifice myself and die again in the process.”

Time flows but Jasper can’t feel it as his eyes are focused on where his lover is on the screen. All Jasper is hoping is that he’ll see through their ruse…

 

Those beings have done awful things…

Chapter 3: found this old, old picture of you.

Johnny wasn’t particularly fond of this mushroom’s gripes.

He kept squirming, saying obscenities and shoving Johnny away. And the questioning, why all the questions?

Johnny tried to at least use a stethoscope on Rowan, but he slapped it. Johnny’s ears rang from the impact, and he groaned, partially in frustration and mostly in pain.

“He’s not too happy,” Bela chirped, kicking her legs. She sat pressed against Rowan on the examination table, bubbly as ever. “You should probably stay still.”

“What, so the guy can probe me? Absolutely not.”

Johnny glared at Rowan, the first actual facial expression Rowan witnessed from him. It was somehow less offputting than his usual shocked look.

“He’s not gonna probe you, Rowan.”

“You see how he looked at me? He’s for sure gonna do something to me.”

Johnny grunted, placing the stethoscope aside and jotting down things on the clipboard. Believes I’ll invade unnecessary orifices, it read. Rowan wasn’t so sure why that was needed.

“You really should cooperate. I kinda promised you would do this.”

“Why are you promising things on my behalf?!”

“Because! You wouldn’t wake up!”

Rowan huffed, eyeing Johnny intensely. That crazed mad scientist look did not seem very reassuring.

“If I let you do your tests, are you gonna do some weird shit? Like, invade my orifices or something?”

“You can read upside down? Neat,” Bela chimed. She took a look at Johnny, then turned back to Rowan with wild eyes. “He says he won’t probe you. Promise.”

Johnny extended his hand towards Rowan, almost as an offer, and he reluctantly reached for it. Johnny just about snatched it out of impatience, putting some weird band on his arm. He started to click around on the keyboard, and a bunch of numbers started to pop up on the screen beside them while Johnny wrote them down at a pace that nearly matched the computer. It scared Rowan. That, and made him feel quite stupid.

“You afraid of needles?” Bela turned to Rowan, leaning in more. Rowan’s body tilted from the pressure against him.

Rowan shrugged, turning back towards Johnny to see him hold up a pretty large syringe.

“What the fuck is that?”

“The needle!”

Johnny yanked Rowan’s arm forward, jabbing the needle into his forearm with skilled ease. He watched the blood slowly fill the syringe, confused at the sheer amount Johnny was drawing from him.

He took a pen in his left hand, jotting down something about his blood. Maybe a description?

Wasn’t he writing with his right hand earlier?

“Johnny’s ambidextrous,” Bela whispered loudly. “It’s super cool, right?”

If anything, Rowan was getting more and more scared of Johnny. What kind of witchcraft allowed him to write the same with both hands? And with that same speed? Freaky.

Johnny set the syringe aside, immediately picking a new empty one and grabbing Rowan’s other arm, shoving his sleeve up to expose the skin.

“You’re aggressive,” Rowan sneered. Johnny didn’t reply, stabbing the new needle into Rowan.

“So like, why do you need so much blood, bro?”

Johnny wasn’t sure how to explain what would soon be a month’s worth of possible experiments concisely enough for this mini mushroom man to understand. The possibility of cloning him, seeing what poisons and toxins would affect the cells, what he could potentially produce…

“Stuff,” Bela smiled. “Lotsa stuff.”

Johnny heard a small whisper. Something faint, something foreign, yet so close to being familiar. It almost sounded like Ian.

His head shot up, and just above Rowan seemed to be a dark silhouette staring right back at him. Its form looked almost inklike, dripping slowly, yet not losing mass.

How fascinating.

Johnny stared at it a moment longer, but its eyes widened in what appeared to be a realization before fading entirely from view.

Perhaps this mushroom species was able to summon spirits? It did look an awful lot like the Phantoms of his world.

Did a Phantom decide to control this mushroom? Hopefully he wouldn’t turn out anything like Damien. Oh, how he hated that man.

“What’s caught your eye?” Bela asked, tilting her head at an almost odd angle. “Something good, I hope?”

Johnny only shrugged, turning his focus back to drawing enough blood. His lack of focus on the creature, the fleeting way he reacted, made Bela disregard the concept she saw in his mind. If it was of no importance to Johnny, who was fascinated by just about anything, it was of no importance to her.

“Is he, like, hallucinating?”

“No, Rowan. I think that’s my job.” :3

Rowan so wanted to disregard that comment, but he couldn’t help the pure look of horror that was plastered across his face. Bela only smiled widely at him.

Johnny was soon satisfied by the amount of blood he’d drawn from Rowan, and Rowan was relieved that he was finally free.

“No you’re not.”

“What?”

“He’s coming back. The blood’s only the first part, trust me.”

“Shiiiiiiit.”

Johnny was quite curious. Maybe Rowan didn’t like him because he was actually being a vessel for a Phantom.

But what if there was no Phantom? His blood didn’t seem to appear smokey like someone possessed by one.

But he was from another world. Maybe things worked differently there.

Johnny began placing a few vials of blood into a centrifuge, and Rowan thought he was cloning him right before his eyes. He’d never seen something like that.

Bela stopped swinging her legs, Johnny noted. She must be bored.
Without looking, Johnny simply waved his hand to shoo her away. She sprung to life, happy to be freed from the confines of the lab. For whatever reason, Johnny didn’t care to know. He was more hung up on the amount of possibilities that the mush posed for his experiments and species documentation.

An odd silence filled the room when he returned to Rowan’s side. He’d been used to those.

Rowan, it seemed, either was not, or absolutely could not handle them. What a pain.

“So, like,” Rowan began slowly. “You and her know each other long?”

Johnny shrugged. In truth, he knew her well, but long? What was long to Rowan?

Another pause. And more of Rowan’s voice to stop it.

“What about you? Why do you do this stuff?”

No answer. Just that horribly off putting stare. Rowan was kind of scared of how light Johnny’s eyes were. The dude needed darker eyes or something. Maybe that would stop them from boring holes into his brain.

“Uhh…” Rowan didn’t know what would make him talk. He did have a voice, he heard him grunt and basically complain about his existence earlier, so what was the deal?

“Bela mentioned some dude named Ian? What’s up with that?”

Johnny’s eyes met Rowan’s in a new light, gleaming with life. Rowan wasn’t sure if that scared him any less.

“He’s not just some dude, he’s my life,” Johnny spoke, frantic. His voice was much different from what Rowan was expecting, more high pitched and raspy. At least he didn’t sound like a killer or something.

“Ian’s everything to me. He fought the war for me. He didn’t want me on the front lines. He stood with me through everything. I mean it. We were homeless together as children. No parents, not a soul around except for us. He could’ve easily killed me but he stood by my side for the rest of our lives and he was so nice to me he’s so handsome too you should see him he’s gorgeous I love him so much-”

“THAT’S GREAT,” Rowan interjected. How could someone so silent talk so damn fast?

“Isn’t it?!” Johnny clearly did not catch the hint. “He’s amazing. Like, super amazing. And he’s a soul eater, did you know that? Well, you probably don’t because you aren’t from here, but soul eaters are just the most exquisite species! They’re so majestic, Ian’s so majestic, his eyes are yellow, but like gold, you know? And gosh, he’s so tall, he easily towers over you and I both. He’s so gentle, though, I promise. You’d love him, but not too much okay? He’s mine, like we had to go all this way to find another Ian, but I didn’t replace him I swear, he just falls in love with me all the time. Isn’t that amazing? It’s like we’re meant for each other!”

Johnny was inching awfully close to Rowan, much like Bela did. He was unwillingly starting to see the similarities between them.

“Promise.”

“Promise what?!”

“That you won’t try,” Johnny said, face dropping. “Ian probably wouldn’t look your way, anyway, but promise.”

“I don’t want your man!” Rowan began to gently shove Johnny away. “I’m after mine, remember?! That’s the whole reason I’m here!”

“What are you trying to say?!”

“Fuck you mean?!”

“You trying to say he’s ugly?”

“What?!”

“Why wouldn’t you want him?! Not even a little?!”

 

“I’ve never seen this man! How the fuck should I know?!” Rowan grunted. “And why aren’t you saying that to Bela?!”

“Because she doesn’t care about men, she hates them! I don’t have to worry about that!”

Fuck. Rowan couldn’t argue with that.

“Promise.”

“I, uh, I promise. There.”

“Like you mean it,” Johnny spat. “Promise.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, lifting his hands in a pledging motion. “I ever so truthfully promise that I will not take your, uh, Ian. Okay? Will you like, be quiet now?”

Johnny stepped back with a smile, satisfied. He returned to his work, seemingly done with his assault on Rowan’s ears.

Do not ask about Ian, Rowan noted. He actually wished that the unhinged crazy magic woman would come back. Translate the insane looks. Anything to spare him the pain of enduring any more of that.

Chapter 4: ill meet you here

Bela skipped and spun through the winding halls of the palace. The guards watched her, smiling, they were used to her antics after all. And she knew a great many of them from her time before they even became guards, so they cherished her dearly. Besides, who wouldn't smile at the joy of the Queen’s wife. Her lovely consort.

Reminding herself of her new status made Bela blush like a schoolgirl, if she could, well if she wanted to she could. But anyway, if she would go back in time she knew that her past self would have never imagined finding another Thea and being able to marry that one. She thumbed the wedding band on her hand and smiled even wider. She probably looked crazed, but that's the effect her wife had on her after all.

Eventually she found herself shocked from her musings as her feet led her straight to the bathhouse. Her wife must be here. She smiled, waved cheerfully at the guards, and entered the bathhouse. Immediately she was hit with a wall of flower scented steam. She sighed and felt the unknown tension seep from her body.

Snapping her fingers she found herself without her white housewife attire, now clad in a thin and short robe. She made her way past the tubs and pools and towards the large and hidden basin near the back of the bathhouse. The basin was deep and ringed with flowers of all kinds, sprouted from Bela’s magic. The floor changed from smooth marble to rough stone. She relished the feel on her feet as she padded across the pathway and towards her wife who was lounging in the pool.

She stood beside her wife, Thea’s eyes were closed and she wore nothing which was obvious from the clear and blue water. She let her eyes roam over her wife, who had definitely heard her coming earlier, what with her advanced senses and all. Bela then freed herself of her robe and let it fall silently to the floor. As it did Thea’s green eyes snapped open, her hair was loose for once; no longer in its usual braided bun. Bela liked this look of Thea best, carefree and radiant.

Thea reached out and wrapped a hand loosely around her wifes ankle, her hand wrapped firmly around the dark flesh. Bela smiled at her, her heart fluttered uselessly in her chest. How she adored this woman.

Thea smiled back at her, tilted her head in the direction of the water and asked her in rather simple terms.

“Join me?”

Bela laughed, low and gentle, and carefully climbed into the steaming water. Her wife busied herself with procuring vials of soaps and oils from one of the nearby stations of the bathhouse. Bela lounged in the water and leaned against the rocky walls that made up the basin, she closed her eyes and allowed her body to fully relax.

When she opened them Thea was standing before her, looming over Bela's much smaller form. And holding a few vials of oils; vanilla and eucalyptus. Bela held out her arms and leaned forward, Thea smiled much like the cat who caught the canary and began to pour the oils over her, rubbing them gently into her skin. The scent of vanilla flooded her nose. Eucalyptus soon followed. Bela found it a struggle to not fall asleep as her wife carefully washed her body and hair.

When she was done, Bela smiled mischievously and ducked under the water, beckoning Thea to follow her. When she did, Bela cast a quick spell, one to let them breathe underwater, and pulled Thea in for a deep kiss.

Hands began to wander, as they usually do when the two found any time alone, and soon enough Bela found herself writhing in Thea’s strong grasp, drowning in pleasure.

—

It was late by the time the two finally left the bathhouse. Bela had magiced herself into her usual casual getup. A white dress with a button up top and a black belt, with a golden diamond buckle. Bela examined the matching golden buckles on Thea’s outfit and smiled. Her white heels clicked on the floor, her hair was in a ponytail once more but her silk bow had been traded for a lace one at Thea’s demand.

Thea herself wore a lightly armored breastplate, with an ornate toga pinned together by golden buckles underneath. Her sword was strapped at her waist and her hair was back in its usual braided bun, pinned into place by her haloed headpiece that signified her status as Queen. Not that she needed it, after all, her presence was more than enough.

Thea glanced down at Bela and saw her already looking at her.

“What are you gazing at my love?”

“You.”

“And why is that?”

“Just thinking about you, like always, after all it's been a few days since we've been able to have time together.”

Thea sighed at her words, it was true, they hadn't been able to spend much time together for the past week. Bela had been needed for different magical duties as court witch meanwhile Thea was needed for all her royal and court business which was steadily building up as they approached the summer solstice. Each solstice the Gods would gather in the Heavenly Temple and hold council, select mortals were allowed to visit them and Thea’s court was among this selected group.

Because of this Thea was needed to prepare many gifts and organize the whole parade that would lead them to the temple, even though she had been doing this for years it would be the first time she got to do it with Bela, and it made her stress over its perfection even more than usual.

Bela threaded their hands together to comfort the taller woman, after all, she knew that soon the solstice would pass. Hopefully uneventfully, and the two would be free to catch up on lost time once more. The thought made her smile, genuine and small.

Thea squeezed their hands together as they continued their walk back to their shared quarters. Behind them a small entourage of guards followed, their own personal defense. Even though both Bela and Thea were more than qualified to defend themselves it was simply protocol that they must have at least five guards near them at all times. Bela usually snuck away from her guards and led them through goose chases more often than not though.

As they walked Bela could sense a familiar presence nearby.

Johnny.

What was he doing out here already? She wondered, she skimmed his thoughts briefly and-

Oh, of course.

She smiled, and called out to Johnny.

“Johnny! Bring Rowan over here, I want him to meet Thea!”

Just as the words left her mouth, Johnny rounded the corner, Rowan being dragged unwillingly at his side. He had bandages peeking out from under his burnt sweater, Bela considered getting him a new one. After all, she had fixed Johnny's sense of fashion, kinda, and she refused to be seen with someone in such an ugly outfit. She just had to get him new clothes. And shoes. He desperately needed shoes.
Johnny waved at Bela, mentally at least. She waved excitedly back at him. Thea watched the whole interaction with a small and affectionate smile. She loved her wife so much.

Her eyes landed on who she assumed to be Rowan, he was short. Much shorter than she had ever seen. And that was saying something considering how tall she was. Rowan locked eyes with her, and seemed to panic as he stopped fighting against Johnny's grip and instead tried to hide behind the scientist.

Johnny glazed at him briefly before tugging him the rest of the way towards the couple, ignoring his whispered pleas to leave him alone. After all, Bela wanted him to meet Thea and Johnny wanted a break to go see Ian. Two birds, one stone.

‘Bela.’

“Yeah Johnny?”

‘Can you watch him for me so I can go ahead and see Ian. He’s very.. annoying, yes that's a good word to describe him.’

“Yeah, of course, go get your man!” Bela cheered, throwing her free hand into the air in a gesture of excitement. Johnny smiled at her, and practically threw Rowan forward. As though he was meat for the wolves. Bela let go of Thea’s hand and rushed up to Rowan, grabbing him by the arms.

“We're gonna have so much fun together!” She sang, Rowan stared at her, she could hear his jumbled thoughts practically screaming. Ranging from don't trust her to Maia is she crazy and for a brief second she could hear a single thought detailing something of hallucinations.

Thea walked forward and crossed her arms over her chest, satisfied with the current predicament, Johnny practically ran off further into the palace towards Ian’s bedchambers. His cloak fluttered in the wind behind him.

Thea examined the small man her wife was holding, she didn't like the look he had on when he gazed at Bela. It was almost as though he thought of her as some maniac. And she had always hated the use of that word near Bela. She’s just happy, not maniacal.

Rowan looked up at Thea, and considered her before narrowing his eyes at the taller woman. Bela looked up at thea from where she had crouched slightly and smiled sweetly.

“Darling, why don't you head off to the bedroom and I’ll join you in a bit. I wanna talk with him for a bit first.” Thea hesitated but faced with Bela’s sweet smile she found her will crumbling and she sighed before motioning to the patrol behind them to leave the two in the hall.

Now alone, Bela straightened up and held out a hand for Rowan.

“Let me show you the gardens, I think you'll like them.”

—

Jasper frowned and looked around from where he sat in the middle of nowhere. He had spent the past few hours watching that crazed scientist, whose name was Johnny, run experiments on his beloved mush. And along with that he now had to watch as Rowan was stuck with that crazed woman, Bela. Something was off about those two, aside from their seemingly unhealthy obsessions with their lovers. And Jasper was beginning to put it all together.

During his speech about that man, Ian, Johnny had told his mush that he had found ‘another’ Ian. Did that mean that the first one rejected him or something, maybe the first one died. Either way, something happened that led him to find another and as far as Jasper could tell he was sure that Ian did not know about the betrayal.

He kept it pinned in the back of his mind, something to hold over the albino man so he could get Rowan away from him safely. But how does he get Rowan away from her safely? He had nothing to hold over her and he could tell just from her aura that he was no match for her in a battle. So how was he supposed to rescue his mush from those two insane maniacs?

Even worse, how was he supposed to escape from this place? He stood up and cast a glance at the screen- was it a screen or a portal- in front of him. He stood up and approached the screen, his mush was sitting on a stone bench surrounded by glowing and marvelous flora and fauna.

How he longed to be there with him, it was a wonderful sight, and she ruined it beyond belief.

She said nothing, simply staring at his mush with wide and unblinking eyes. Either Rowan didn't notice or he didn't care. It was likely he didn't care. Too far gone into his depression and self destruction to notice much of the world around him, much less muster any emotion towards it. The garden that she led them too likely reminded him far too much of home- of Jasper.

He reached a hand out and felt it hit an invisible wall, he cursed under his breath and watched as Rowan seemed to catch his eye before looking away. He sighed and looked back up at the woman, only to find her staring at him.

“Jasper was it?” She muttered, Jasper’s eyes widened. Could she see him? Maia above what would she do to Rowan now that she knew Jasper wasn't really dead?! He could feel a cold sweat break out across his nape. Rowan spun his head around to the woman. She grinned, sharp like a shark, and locked eyes with Rowan.

“The man you want to save, his name is Jasper, correct?” Rowan nodded and gazed around at the garden.

“He’s the love of my life, the best man I could know, even if he was a bit arrogant at times. And he saved me, sacrificed his life for me. I can never repay that.” His tone was desolate and full of self loathing. Bela noticed that and she pounced like a cat who caught its prey. At least Jasper assumed so, after all, why else would she what she said next.

“I know how you feel, after all, I was the same with Thea. But she’s back now. Just like how I can get him back for you.” Jasper cursed again under his breath and tried to kick at the wall separating him from Rowan. She looked up and smiled at him, waving her lace gloved fingers. Jasper cussed even louder, yelling out terrible explicits at the woman. She ignored him and placed a gentle hand on Rowan’s shoulder.

“You just have to listen to me and you'll get him back.” Rowan sighed a little, seemingly unbelieving of her words but he reluctantly nodded anyway.

“Now, tell me about him, tell me about the man who stole your heart.” With those words she tapped at the engagement ring and Rowan began to talk. Words spilling unbidden from his mouth like water from a fountain.

—

Chapter 5: the sand stuck to your toes.

Jasper fell down on his hands, distraught of what just happened. Tears are felt but soon fade away. He couldn’t let her get away with this, as his voice felt like leather screaming at this devil of a woman. As he slumped down on the white cold floor, he took a moment to think about rowan…how did they meet?

 

2 years ago….

 

Mush children are heard screaming with laughter as the hot summer day keeps them rolling with happiness splashing around in pools and rivers near the village. A man is currently selling ice cold popsicles and ice cream for the villagers, giving them for free since their species wasn’t good with the heat, especially with one man dragging into town.

His stature was higher than most, black curly hair floated and bounced as he walked and wore a blue sweater and tan shorts adorned with black loafers. In his arms were heavy foreign books, a suitcase, and a satchel clinking with potions. His face was plain to see as his dark gray appearance was dripping with sweat and slight groaning coming from.

“I can’t…go on” Jasper was traveling from town to town after being kicked out for being “too weird”. It wasn’t his fault for looking like this, he got fucking cursed. The thought made him pissed but he couldn’t think in this awful heat.

He looked around, feeling the cobblestone below his loafers as he saw the townsfolk stare in awe. It was a mixture of surprise and fear. Nothing he didn’t deal with his entire life. He brushed off their looks as he had more important business to do but…

“Damn I’m lost…” Jasper was currently looking for an abandoned house near here since he heard it from rumors about it being free but all the shops looked the same and there was too many trees…and FUCK THIS BLISTERING SUN

He longingly sighed as he stopped in front of the repair shop, hoping to ask someone for directions. Little bells rattle as he opens the door ducking down as not to bang his head on the roof.

“Heyyy welcome to brutus’s repairstore. You bring it, we fiiii-“

Silence filled the store as both strangers stared at the other

Huh… Jasper noticed this mush man in front of him looked different from the others. Other than the apparent weed smell Coming off from him, his eyes showed a deep blue, containing an insignia of some sort in it. His clothes had holes or had burnt pieces come off of it and messy brown oak hair flicked up. paint and other chemicals were seen on his smock. His aura was chaotic but something about him tickled his fancy.

Rowan’s pov

Call an ambulance, who is this handsome man…oh god keep it together rowan. He had trouble trying to focus on this stranger's face. He was a rich dark gray, black hair flowing down his knees…smelled like lavender and herbs, and talk about that body- rowan had to shut himself up, he just fucking met the person and he wants to go to bone town??? Be cool rowan be cool

Normal pov

“Hmmm! You look interesting~, what’s your name stranger” the mush looked Jasper up and down, processing the height difference immediately.

“Jasper nova…what is yours” Jasper was trying not to stare at the stranger too much but he had a certain cuteness to him

“Rowan cleaver! But you can call me rowan. "Rowan smiled from ear to ear as he raised his hand to shake Jasper's hand.

Jasper returned the favor and had muffle himself from awwing from his small Cute hands grasping his. He slapped himself as punishment. This was very rude of him to think just because he’s smaller than him.

Rowan noticed this weird behavior from Jasper and started chuckling softly.

“Man! I like you ha…so what’s a tall glass of water doing in this stupid town? "Rowan asked while holding his face with both his hands, interested in what this strange man would say next.

Jasper blushed slightly from the remark and started explaining his situation while Rowan listened in intently.

“Ahhh! Yeah it’s actually pretty near here, just down by my house(if you ever wanted to visit) Rowan’s voice trailed off at the end of his statement and went outside to lead Jasper to it.

After a few minutes in this endless heat, they made it to the abandoned house, if you could call it that. It was missing windows, flowers were cut off or wilted, and you could hear the creaking wood starting to break from the walls.

“Sooooo here’s your dream house! Very gorgeous isn’t it?” Rowan teased as Jasper scoffed at his “support”

“Haha very funny, you know I’m a wizard right? I can make this house into a 3 story mansion if I wanted to!” Jasper boasted as he put his luggage down and cracked his fingers.

He went to pull up his sweater to wipe the sweat off his face, having his dark abdomen peek out. Rowan started to internally scream inside the longer he looked and turned around in embarrassment covering his eyes.

Jasper closed his eyes and whispered a long incantation. Specks of blue and black elements floated around him, whispers of other unknown voices could be heard as his hair floated up like feathers in the wind. Rowan was mesmerized by this scene, he’s never felt this way about a person in his life…he wanted to get to know him more and- he decided to stop his thoughts there to prevent anymore screaming coming from him.

As Jasper finished his spell, a flash of white light surrounded the house and

POOF

The house was still in same state? Rowan and Jasper were dumbfounded for some time as Rowan was trying so hard not to break down laughing. He had to turn away but couldn’t stop himself. Jasper could hear his long exhales and giggles and picked him up in the air in annoyance .

“LISTEN I CAN DO IT! LISTEN STOP LAUGHING!” Jasper yelled at Rowan as he shook him but he couldn’t stop laughing. His smile was a sight for his eyes as Rowan wiped his eyes from laughing so much. His hair flew off his fair skin and his cheeks grew a peach pink. Jasper could’ve watched him for an eternity but of course that wouldn’t be possible…not right now.

Rowan noticed he was being held by jaspers…well developed hands on his hips and looked at Jasper for a reaction. It took a minute for him to realize what he was doing and quickly put him down and apologized profusely.

“I’m so sorry! I lost my cool there. I’ll do anything to make it up to you!” Jasper looked down in shame, waiting for a response from the mush

Rowan thought about it for awhile and blushed as he started to respond

“Well…if you want to make it up to me” , Rowan looked away while continuing, “would you like to hang out sometime?” He fidgeted with his hands as he considered every scenario that could happen right now.

Jasper was shocked but he wasn’t turning down an interesting time with this specimen, just to see his smile once more.

“Of course…row.”

 

Jasper held his hands tightly on his face, silent whimpers turned into loud sobs.

This wasn’t supposed to happen…what happened to their happy ending? their…wedding

Why him…why rowan…he didn’t have the power to do anything

 

He was supposed to protect him…

 

The blank space was always silent and eerie but for tonight…it was filled with wailing.

“I could use a cup of wine…maybe several”

“We could help with that”

Chapter 6: the salt hiding in your hair.

Johnny opened the door to Ian’s bedroom, being met with him sitting on the edge of the bed, most likely waiting for him.
“Hi.”

“Hey.”

They stood in palpable silence for a moment. It worried Johnny, seeing Ian so lost in thought.

“Johnny.”

“Yes?”

“Walk with me.”

***

The silence was perhaps even worse now. They walked through the forest, all too familiar for both of them. Thankfully it was no different than his home dimension, otherwise it would’ve thrown Ian off right away.

Even this version of Ian, as battered as he was, Johnny loved. He ached for him no matter how he presented himself.

The thought of him, crying and leaving, crossed his mind. How he was so distraught with love and pained by what Johnny had become. How he couldn’t fathom it.

How he couldn’t love him wholly after that.

Johnny didn’t understand how these walks helped ease Ian’s mind. They did little justice for him anymore.

Maybe that was because his mind was broken. Irreversibly broken.

At least Ian was here with him. It couldn’t get worse so long as he had Ian beside him.

“I have questions, Johnny. I hope that’s alright.”

“That’s fine.” Johnny was partly terrified. His heart dropped at the idea that he’d find out Johnny was practically a replacement.

What if that was fine in his eyes?

 

Oh, how he ached to tell Ian everything. To be truthful with him like he had once always been able to be. But that had passed. He could very well lose Ian once again.

That was a risk he was not willing to take. It would surely kill him.
“How?”

“How what?”

“How could you both have been switched out of this dimension? I don’t understand.”

“Dimensions are a fickle thing, Ian. Any minor tampering could lead to something like that.”

Ian hummed, considering the idea. “Who could’ve tampered with the dimensions so much?”

“I’m…not sure,” Johnny sighed. “There’s so many people across dimensions that can manipulate at least one. It could’ve been an individual thing. Could’ve been a collective thing.”

“So it just…added up?”

“I suppose.”

Ian fell silent once again. Johnny wasn’t sure he was buying it. Why ask now, after they’d settled into a rhythm?

“The one I fell in love with,” Ian muttered. “That was a fake…But what about you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“If my lover was a fake, how am I supposed to believe you love me?”

Johnny stopped walking. Ian followed shortly after.

“We had so many memories together.” Ian’s voice wavered, unbecoming for his strong appearance. “You weren’t there for any of that. How could you say you love me when you were not there to live with me?”

Johnny couldn’t meet his eyes. He knew some part of Ian was correct, but he wouldn’t be had he known where Johnny truly hailed from.

But telling him would surely anger the man. He’d be caught in a lie, after all. Something Johnny had promised never to do.

Johnny wondered if the other version of himself had made that same promise. Surely so.

“Our worlds,” Johnny started. “They were quite similar. Even the forest is the same.”

“But the experiences, those surely don’t match.”

“I think they would have enough. If they didn’t, I don’t think this switch would have worked as well as it did. You’d see me as some impostor or something because we didn’t have those experiences.”

Ian yet again pondered Johnny’s words.

“Johnny?”

“Yes?”

“When you switched. To the wrong world, I mean. Was there another me?”

Johnny paused for a moment, yet again reminded of the tears shed that day. The same day he gained those wings.

How he loathed those wings because of that.

“There was,” Johnny admitted. This was awfully close to spilling the truth. He’d have to tread lightly. “He…he ended up dead.”

“So our worlds were flipped?”

“Somewhat.”

“Was it the same blast?”

“Yes. Angelic fire.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You having to see that.”

“Then I'm sorry you had to see me die.”

Ian heaved a heavy sigh, something he was probably holding for a long time.

“What if it didn’t matter that the dimensions switched?” Ian leaned against a tree. “Part of me doesn’t see why it would.”

“What are you saying?”

“When did it happen, Johnny?”
“When Zerithos kidnapped me.”

“So you and I would’ve grown up together?”

“Yes. Went to school together, shared that first loaf of bread. Everything up until the war.”

Ian broke into a soft smile. “That’s nice to know.”

Johnny relaxed at the sight of his smile. “At least one of us didn’t stay dead. Maybe the switch wasn’t so bad.”

“If it didn’t include that war, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

“Johnny?”

“Hm?”

“Does this bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“Me.”

Johnny finally met Ian’s eyes. His pained, tired eyes.

“I don’t look okay,” Ian admitted. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, half my body was practically mutilated.”

“Ian, I don’t care about any of that.”

“I care, Johnny.”

“Why?”

“Because this is not what you left behind.” Ian dropped his gaze. “I was fine when you left. And now you’re back. And I’m in horrible condition.”

“Ian, I don’t care,” Johnny insisted. “How you look has never mattered to me.”

“But isn’t it scary?”

“You’re talking to the person who first saw you as a soul eater.” Johnny chuckled. “I wasn’t even scared of you then. Why would I be scared of you now?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Ian stepped away from the tree, now face to face with Johnny.

“Promise me something.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise you won’t go again.”

“Ian-”

“I know, it’s weird. You can’t control when a dimension knocks you out into another. But please.” Ian took Johnny’s hand in his own. Johnny missed being able to hold both. “Stay with me.”

Johnny sighed, standing on the balls of his feet to wrap his arms around Ian’s neck. He whispered a soft I promise before kissing him, staying that way for as long as their lungs would allow.

“I missed you,” Ian’s voice broke, “so damn much.”

“I missed you too.”

Ian kissed Johnny a few more fervent times. He muttered apologies and sweet nothings, holding Johnny tightly, burying his face into the crook of his neck. The silence became much more comfortable again, much less palpable. But there was still a nagging feeling eating at Johnny.

He felt as though he’d slipped up somewhere. Perhaps not with Ian, but somehow. He couldn’t pinpoint the feeling.

Perhaps it was merely paranoia.

Yes. Just paranoia.

Chapter 7: glued to you.

Bela wandered through the halls, it was late. It was night. She looked across the pond in the garden, when did she get here? The garden was ruined, blood decorated it, bodies were strewn across the grassy floor.

She watched with horror, how did her garden get to this state, what happened?

She heard unsteady laughter behind her, thick with tears. When she turned she saw herself, covered in blood and holding her head in her hands. The other version of her was shaking, behind her she could see Thea looking at her with a mixture of horror and disgust.

She stumbled backwards, she'd never allow this to happen, what was going on? Ever since she and Johnny had come here she's done her best to repair herself, she's trained herself to not act too erratic and she's held back from any violent outbursts and murders.

She couldnt be like that anymore, not if she wanted to stay with Thea. The other her turned, she saw Thea and she laughed harder, crumpling to the ground and shaking with a mixture of tears and giggles. Thea backed away and placed her hand on the pommel of her sword, she opened her mouth to say something.

When she did, she looked up, straight at Bela.

“Belladonna.” Her voice was cold, Bela felt tears slide down her face.

“You're a monster.”

Bela shot up with a loud scream, it echoed in the room. Thea startled beside her and reached for her sword. She was met with no intruders or monsters. Just a sobbing and shaking wife, and blood staining her red painted nails. She carefully moved closer to where Bela was on the bed, she let her hand hover over Bela’s shoulder. She didn't dare touch her, she knew how to deal with PTSD, she knew not to touch those afflicted during their episodes.

“Bela, flower, can you hear me?” The woman in question sniffled, her sobs quieting. Thea took this as a sign to touch her, she watched as Bela froze before turning around and flinging herself into Thea’s arms. She was mumbling incoherently in Romani. Her words slurring and catching as they escaped from her teary mouth.

Thea wrapped her arms around the other woman and shooed away the guards that had burst into the room with a free hand before crading both her hands through Bela’s thick curls. Bela’s body shook with hiccups and sobs, she clutched desperately at Thea’s nightclothes. Thea let her, anything to comfort her wife, especially when she got like this.

Eventually Bela calmed, she stayed in Thea’s arms and the taller of the two laid them both back on the rumpled bed. Bela practically melted in her embrace, clearly tired from her outburst. Thea hummed an old lullaby from her childhood under her breath as she held Bela.

Bela counted her breaths as sleep threatened to drag her under, before she did she thought of one final thing.

“Would you still love me if I wasn't who I said I was?”

Thea laid there for a long time the words ringing in her head, what did Bela mean by that?

—

The morning brought with it time spent away from Thea. Bela wasn't happy but for some odd reason thea seemed far more nervous around her than usual, when this happened in her old world Bela would simply scan their thoughts but she never did that to thea. No, not her love. After all, if Thea deserved anything, it was the simple respect of privacy.

Besides it would be too weird to hear her darling wife's thoughts after all those years without her, better to allow time to readjust before asking Thea if she would mind Bela knowing everything.

Finding herself bored in the palace, Bela decided to go find Johnny. Of course, she already knew where he was. The lab. After all, he had a brand new test subject to poke and prod, why wouldn't he spend his time in the lab doing that rather than anything else.

Bela asked him once why he spent so much time in the lab. He told her he was so used to doing it on his world, that it felt wrong to not do it at all. She dropped the question after that.

As Bela skipped through the halls, waving at each guard she passed, she found her way to the large lab doors. Letting her magic open them she brushed her hands down the long skirt and walked neatly and politely into the lab.

It was empty.

She stood there, blinked, and cocked her head.

It was fucking empty.

She smiled, finally Johnny had left the lab. Gods know it was about time. She decided to take this time wandering around the palace. Eventually she found her way back to the garden.

Rowan was still there.

“Oh! You're still here?” She walked over and sat down beside him, he seemed a fair bit happier. At least thought wise, appearance wise not so much. She ignored the fact that he still didn't have shoes. Gods above she needed to get him a new outfit.

She sat there with him in silence. Rowan didn't move. He watched a caterpillar creep up a large golden leaf, the caterpillar was lilac and glowing. He had never seen anything like it before. The sun watched over them, Apollo’s gaze was firm. Bela felt like something interesting would happen today.

“Can I dress you up?” Bela asked, breaking their even silence. Rowan looked at her through the side of his eye, shaded by his mushroom cap.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you are in terrible need of a bath, also shoes. You really need shoes.”

Rowan looked over himself and back up at her and frowned.

“What do you mean? I look fine!” He insisted, ignoring the fact that he didn't look fine. He didn't want to admit she was right, he never liked being wrong after all. He would die on this hill of wrongness.

Unfortunately Bela didn't take no for an answer.

She smiled, it was wide and all teeth.

“Youre taking a fucking bath right now or so help me Gods above.”

Rowan took a bath.

—

When Rowan stepped out of the bathhouse, a new pair of clothes was awaiting him. He kept Jasper’s shirt under it all, thankfully it seemed newly washed. He would thank Bela for it, but he still didn't trust that woman. She was a bit unhinged for his tastes. Also she’d probably hug him like some large stuffed animal from a festival. And he still had some dignity.

Rowan quickly dressed himself; Jasper’s shirt, his engagement ring, and a brand new red sweater with white floral designs sewn onto the hems. The pants were woven together neatly, he had never seen this kind of material before. It was like silk but shinier. Magic perhaps?

The shoes were some kind of winding sandal made of tough, brown leather. After a few minutes he figured out how to put them on and considered himself in the mirror of the dressing room of the bathhouse.

Bela was waiting for him outside the bathhouse, typing away at some device that was glowing.
She noticed him and smiled widely, he raised an eyebrow as the brick she had been holding vanished in a flash of blue.

“It's a phone darling.”

“A what?”

“I- how do I explain a phone?” She muttered to herself, hand on her chin. Rowan felt dread pool in his stomach, Maia no please don't lecture me on what a phone is. Bela laughed at his thoughts and dropped her hands to her belted hips.

“Fine, I won't. But Tatiana will, probably. She's the tech expert anyway.” She nodded resolutely like since she decided that then it would happen, he was beginning to hate when she did this. It's like she thought she made all the rules and decisions in life or something.

She grasped his hand and tugged him away from the bathhouse. Leading him down a path he recognized as the one they had led when they had traveled from the garden.

“I'll drop you back off at the garden, I need to run a few,” She smiled widely, like a satisfied cat, “errands.”

Rowan didn't want to know what she meant by errands, knowing what he knew about her it was likely something like armed robbery or more dimension hopping. Anyway, true to her word, she dropped him off back at the garden.

The caterpillar was still its the place it had been when he left, he sat back down at the same bench and went back to watching it. A few seconds passed, and the caterpillar creeped forward. A few minutes passed, and the caterpillar creeped forward again. Jasper whispered in his ear, he shrugged it off, it wasn't real after all.

A few more minutes passed, he could hear Bela behind him. She sounded much calmer, her accent was rougher than usual. He shrugged it off. Without taking his eyes off of the caterpillar he asked the question that had been haunting him all night, he wanted to know if it meant what he thought it did.

“What did Johnny mean when he said you all had to find another Ian?”

He was met with silence, horror palpable.

When he turned Bela wasn't there, in fact nobody was. The curtains of the garden's entrance were fluttering in an unseen wind. He could hear what sounded like sped up footsteps in the distance. He had a feeling deep in his gut, like he just did something terrible.

—

Tatiana ran through the halls, they sped past her as she pumped more magic into her speed. Soon enough she was skidding to a stop before her parents.

“Mama.” She panted, tears streaming down her face.

“Mama. Something happened, something’s wrong. Something isn't right about Johnny and Belladonna.”

Her mom watched her with widened eyes, she grasped at her daughters hands. Her father rushed forward and wrapped his arm around her.

“What happened? Tell us everything.”

—

 

Thea couldnt wrap her mind around what she heard that night, it haunted her. She buried it under all the preparations she had to do for the solstice. Maybe if she could get it right, get it perfect for Bela, then she could forget about that night. That comment. 

Still she couldn't shake it from her mind, what did Bela mean by that. 

What did she mean by saying she might not be who Thea thought she was? Isn't she the same woman she had joined a superhero team with? The same woman she had gone on a date to the beach with? The same woman she had fallen in love with? The same woman she had cherished? 

Who was she if she wasnt that? Was she really Bela, or was it all some ruse? The thoughts plagued her. She ignored them and turned around at the sound of cheerful steps behind her. Bela was here. For their date. Their picnic. She could ask Bela herself if she really needed too. 

She would, she decided. She would ask Bela. Bela wouldn't lie to her, she would never lie to her. That was their promise. To never lie to the other. She trusted Bela, she trusted her with her vulnerable heart. 

She met Bela’s smile with her own grin and led them to the beach nearby, for their date. Which would be perfect, because any day with Bela was perfect to Thea. 

 

Chapter 8: you've chosen not to remember this part.

Jasper, slouched on the icy, white floor, was jolted by the sudden emergence of two voices behind him.. He quickly rose and prepared to defend himself, assuming an offense position.

Jasper couldn’t make out what was coming near him, all he saw was a blur of a bright yellow and blue coming towards him as he heard the clack of their shoes tap on the floor, getting louder as they came closer.

“Hey! No need to be alarmed…well of course you don’t know who we are”
Talking
“Yeah idiot, you’re scaring him with your ugliness-“

What the hell is going on…who are these things? Jasper tried to analyze the situation and these new strangers in his supposedly alone white void.

‘They looked like Rowan but taller?’ Jasper noticed they were at his height which was impressive. They had the same mushroom attachment for their species, and tails but theirs were longer and the hair could be seen rippling in and out continuously like a feather fluttering in the wind.

“Kneel when you meet a god!”

“What?!” Jasper thought he was going insane but as he stood his position stubbornly, one of them snapped their fingers and Jasper was forced down on both of his knees.

“Ugh…what are you?” Jasper groaned from the unnatural force he was pushed down as the other being came up quickly to apologize.

“I’m so sorry for my colleague’s behavior” they exchanged an angry glance at the other mush “Please excuse our rudeness, jasper”

Huh? How did they know his name? And why was he so…bright. They had long wavy hair painted a golden wheat color, bright golden eyes, and silk light yellow robes.

Jasper couldn't help but notice blobs of magic seeping from his skin and swirling through the air. It was as if he were radiating like the sun itself, making it difficult for Jasper to look directly at him for fear of scorching his eyes.

“Oh! Forgot to introduce myself. My name is cirro!” Cirro reached out to pet Jasper on the head like a dog, causing his luscious locks of hair to become tousled. This only deepened Jasper’s confusion about his strange predicament.

 

“The party pooper over there is Elias—call him Eli, and he might just destroy your universe,” Cirro said with a grin, glancing at Elias. Elias immediately turned red with embarrassment, his anger visibly simmering.

“It was a one time thing asshole!! he knew what he was doing…” Elias quickly turned away to his face as Jasper also took the opportunity to observe his appearance.

‘What a drastic difference in aesthetic huh’ he pondered. The other had short black hair, midnight-black eyes, a dull gray mushroom with cracks coming out of it. His dark blue robes were tattered and riddled with holes, and his body appeared to be cracking, with cubic shapes emerging from it.

…

 

Is this…heaven??? Am I dead already???
Jasper was tweaking as he couldn’t make sense of what was happening and who these “gods” were. He pinched at his cheek and legs to see if he was dreaming as the two gods watched him in concern.

“Listen…I know this is a lot to take in but I need you to calm down okay?” Cirro placed his hand gently on Jasper's chin, lifting it up to look at his face. His hand felt soothingly warm, it reminded Jasper of being near a crackling fireplace on a frigid winter evening. His body and muscles loosened and relaxed the first time ever since reaching this unforgiving place.

“We know you’ve been trying to get back home, to your rowan” Jasper’s head popped up, as tears filled his waterline and slowly dripped down his face. Each tear seemed to carry the weight of longing and sorrow that had built up inside him, now slipping free in quiet release.

He needed Rowan, he needed his rough but soft touch, his eyes filled with determination and affection, his body language that was like a puzzle to him to solve. His being was his reason to go on and continue his studies.

“I can’t…I can’t find him, it’s impossible with useless powers like mine.” Jasper's eyes,still filled with tears, were swelled with regret and distress as he was seen slightly shaking, still trying to get that wretched woman's face out of his mind.

“H-how do you know rowan…?” Cirro and Elias looked each other with a mixed of “oh boy we screwed up” and “if we say anything, it’s not going to be pretty” as Jasper was cautiously waiting for their response

After a few minutes of agonizing silence, Cirro sighed sorrowfully and crouched down to Jasper's height, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“If I tell you, promise you won’t freak out, okay?” Jasper got more nervous hearing that but eventually agreed to hear this Cirro person out.

“We are the gods of the multiverse, I’m sure your family has taught you the history of how there’s a theory of multiple versions of people in different time periods?” Jasper's face lit up with interest as he studied that theory for years in his world

 

…is he saying there’s more of them?

“Yes I know about it, studied it even” Jasper smirked boastfully, hoping they had any burning questions for him.

Cirro giggled as Elias scoffed at his uppity nature.

“Yeah yeah anyways, we…made a mistake. A glitch if you will thanks to Mr genius over here” Cirro again glanced back at Elias, a sense of tension rising between them. Uneasy, Jasper shifted where he sat as he felt sparks coming off of them.

“Your…”

 

“Your Rowan was not supposed to exist, he had aspects that no other version of him should have and we eventually met up with him in his dreams butttt-“

“W-wait…are you saying..that our universe was a glitch in your system?” Cirro watched helplessly as he noticed Jasper's face dulled with what Cirro said to him. his breathing quickened at this bombshell of the truth. He doubled over suddenly, retching as if his world was unraveling.

Both of the gods swiftly ran to him, trying to comfort him but Jasper's head was filled with too many questions.

‘Was I a mistake? Was I just a test subject? Does this mean they’ll take away my uni-'Cirro quickly placed his hand on Jasper’s eyes, a glowing yellow light flowing through his fingers as Jasper felt his thoughts grow quieter and any sense of tension loosened where Cirro touched. Elias watched trying to stay calm but couldn’t help but worry.

“You’re too strong to think like this, I’m sorry we had to tell you but…we had no choice, but I will tell you something.” Cirro waved Elias over to say something. Anything to make him feel better

Elias scratched at his head, digging his feet on the floor as he immediately thought of something.

 

“Uh…do you know that song the London bridge is falling down?”

Jasper furrowed his eyebrows in more confusion.

“Y-yeah…that kid’s song?”

“Cirro was the one to make it fall down.”

Elias glanced at Cirro who was obviously shocked at this betrayal.

“HA! He accidentally crashed into it while we were universehopping and they made a song about it due to him!!”

Elias clutched his waist in laughter as he rolled on the floor, filling the quiet room with boasturious laughing. As Jasper watched this intriguing scene unravel, Ciro's patience was cut just like that, he’d had enough.

“OY THAT’S IT”

In a flash, Cirro lunged at Elias, and the room exploded into chaos as the two collided. Random objects flew throughout the room as you couldn’t see anything but a ball of energy and dust. Jasper was captivated, his face filled with shock and amusement seeing the absurdity unfold before him.

 

‘They definitely have the rowan aspect that’s for sure…’ Jasper couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath a bit while it was happening.

After a few moments, both of them dragged themselves back to Jasper, clearly visible with cuts and bruises and…cirro was missing an arm. Jasper tried so hard to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. Both smiled through their clear anger for each other seeing Jasper was feeling much better. Cirro cleared his throat Awkwardly as he clapped his hands and both of them were healed to their original state.

“Before someone had to make it about me, we’re not getting rid of your universe.” Jasper stared at both of the gods with stupor.

“Why not? It was a mistake wasn’t it?” Jasper's voice trailed off softly as the weight of what he said hung heavily in his mind.

“It is but…it turned into a beautiful mistake after a while.” Cirro placed a hand on Jasper's cheek, his thumb brushing on his face.
“I’ve never seen anyone love as deeply as you two do,” he continued, tenderly sighing.
“Not even after witnessing countless versions of you across all realities.”

His voice held a warmth that contrasted sharply with the disgust etched across Elias’ face, who stood nearby, glaring in silent revulsion at the sentiment.

 

Jasper had a wave of relief washed off of him but also a creeping sense of being watched all that time(which he also tried not to think about)

“For giving you two a sense of dread, we’d like to apologize by lending our help towards your cause.” Cirro bowed gracefully and forced Elias to bow with him with one push.

For the first time since arriving to this decrepit white void, he felt a flickering hope returning to his mind. But one question fell upon him, ‘how was he going to find Rowan’ there was an endless sea of universes spanning across time and space and there was only one of him.
This notion was heavy but his hope kept against it.

 

Cirro walked closer to Jasper, leaving an inch of space between their faces. Jasper was silently hoping Rowan wasn’t watching them right now.

“I need you to open your right eye for me”

Jasper had a burning instinct to ask why but something in Cirro’s tone left him unable to say no. His heart raced with hesitation as he felt the pressure of childhood shame wash over him. He experienced an accident and due to it, his eye was left with a different color and dim in vision. It remained shut to avoid the cruel taunts but now…it felt liberating to do.

His eye flickered open as it was a striking contrast to the other. It swirled with notes of blues purples, and white specks like a cosmic dance forming around them.

Cirro lips curled into a smile at the sight of it, that dark starry gaze reminded him of his boyfriend’s eyes but immediately brushed the thought off as he focused on the task at hand.

“You need to let go…let go Jasper”

“What? What do you mean-“

“Let go Jasper…let go of what burdens your mind”

Cirro tightly clasped his hand onto jaspers as a white light formed between them. It pulsed and expanded, growing more intense with each heartbeat. Jasper blinked, his vision beginning to blur around the edges as the light intensified.

As Jasper tried squinting through this bright white light in front of him, he saw Cirro coming closer to him and placed a soft peck on his cheek. Jasper lifted his hand up to spot, also praying Rowan didn’t see that. Cirro smiled, his expression full of warmth and fondness as he gave a gentle wave goodbye. Before Jasper could react, Cirro pushed him downward, sending him plummeting further into the endless expanse below.

Jasper suddenly felt his body fall backwards, Feeling the ground beneath him give out and put him in a weightless free fall. He couldn’t see anything around but white twinkling stars shooting across from him. The strong wind whipped through his clothes and hair as his heart pounded as he screamed in fear. This chaos-filled descent shook him, messily praying for any god to help him land safely.

Last thing he ever heard before descending was…

“Go to him. Find him. Save him. Free yourself…”

Chapter 9: i am made of haunted memories

-

 

How curious.

 

How infuriating .

-

 

Johnny wandered through the forest with Ian, hand in hand as they made their way back to the palace. 

 

He’d finally calmed down enough that he could enjoy walking with Ian in silence. They hadn’t exactly run out of things to speak of, but the silence was comfortable to both of them. Possibly even needed by them both as well.

 

Johnny occasionally stole glances at Ian, admiring him as he always did throughout their lives. He’d lost vision in his left eye, the iris now a milky yellow instead of its usual golden hue, surrounded by cauterized skin. His left arm had been amputated due to most of it having been blasted off during the war. His ears had been torn off, both sides now jagged. Johnny wondered what happened, but Ian refused to talk about that. It looked intentional. Like he’d been subjected to a hate crime. 

 

Those were common for his species. Those poor soul eaters would have their ears cut off left and right. How could they be seen as abominations? Johnny didn’t understand.

 

“You keep staring at me,” Ian noted, turning to Johnny with a soft smile. Even when he smiled, the two scars on his lips aligned. Always so perfect.

 

“I like looking at you,” Johnny confessed. 

 

“You always say that.”

 

“Because it’s true.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you’re perfect.”

“Far from it, Johnny.”

 

“In my eyes, you’ll always be perfect.”

 

Ian became bashful, something Johnny was easily able to cause. Nobody else was able to do that, especially after how stoic Ian became around the war.

 

But with Johnny, he felt as though he was a child again. Back before all the war talk, before everyone…

 

Left. Before everyone left.

 

Ian still couldn’t quite come to terms with it sometimes. He liked to think that they’d just abandoned him. He’d been used to that already. It didn’t hurt as much.

 

The others barely came around anymore. Joshua’s death was possibly one of the hardest on the whole group. Him and Lucia. Zaaz was especially hard on the demons.

 

Adam and Lucas, they were prepared to die. They knew that when they tried to have Lionas. Sure, everyone went into the war, but they had plans .

 

Joshua was going to propose to Charlie after they won. He vividly recalled being in one of the barracks, a mere two nights before the war, being shown a glimmering moonstone ring. Charlie loved moonstone. Joshua’s usual smirk in a wide grin, emerald eyes gleaming. Ian suggested he propose beforehand, but Joshua didn’t feel it right to rush such a thing, despite he and Charlie having been in love their whole lives. He had wanted his twin brother Zach to witness it. He’d been waiting years for them to tie the knot, after all. But that would not happen. Zach would end up shattering every mirror he came across in a fit of grief, struggling with his own appearance. His brother’s appearance. Charlie would be in a similar predicament, no longer able to even dare to look at Zachary, much less speak to him. The three had been inseparable growing up, but Joshua’s death had destroyed them both too much to keep that sentiment.

 

The enemy had found Lucia somehow. Raided the base and tried to kill as much of the medical team as they could. Rebecca only escaped because Lucia ushered her out first, shielding her little sister from the fray. They already hadn’t heard from her in months due to their training differences, but she’d promised that she would cook a feast for when they came back. She’d promised that they would all eat together. Elenor would even make her signature homemade bread, just for Ian. They’d leave that horrid battleground, even opting to eat on the floor if it meant doing so together. Few did return, but they stood awake hungry that night.

 

And Zaaz. As much as Ian found him to be a mystery, it stung to see his body being pieced back together. And the person at his side, putting the pieces together with impeccable memory…Faranei. His sworn enemy, screaming through hot tears, demanding anyone he could to bring him back. Zaaz had saved him from an attack from the angels. He’d begged everyone, including Ian, to kill him then and there. To bury him with Zaaz’s body. They had all refused, but Faranei didn’t even try to do it himself. He clung to Zaaz’s body as long as he could, tail coiled around him tightly. Demonic body language that signified the utmost love. Unbridled devotion.

 

They’d fervently denied having any sort of positive sentiment towards one another, and the other deadly sins grew to believe them, what with Zaaz and Faranei always arguing the moment they were in front of one another. But that denial was ruined when Faranei cut his own tail off, keeping it wrapped around Zaaz when he was buried. 

 

And Johnny…Zerithos had kidnapped Johnny. Who he thought was Johnny , at least, torn to shreds in front of his eyes at the cusp of the battle. His blood had seeped into every wound Ian’s side had worked so hard to inflict. It healed him to full capacity instantly. 

 

Had Johnny stayed behind, out of the war, like he insisted…

 

Johnny poked Ian, who was startled out of his thoughts. Probably for the best.

 

How long had he been lost in thought?

 

“You alright?” Johnny asked. Ian had been silent for so long now, staring straight ahead as they walked. It didn’t look as though he was focused on anything in front of him, either. He hoped it wasn’t a bad thing, but knowing what Ian had gone through, that was a fleeting possibility.

 

He saw Ian perk up in confusion, looking at the palace entrance.

 

“Did you not realize we arrived?”

 

“No, not really.” Ian squeezed his hand. “Got a little lost in thought, is all.”

 

Johnny hummed. They walked up the palace stairs, and Johnny nearly tripped trying to keep up with Ian. Their size difference always made itself known around stairs. Ian would have to skip steps, and Johnny couldn’t skip any. 

 

Upon entering the palace, Johnny noticed Bela’s sister, Tatiana. She spoke fervently, with a worrying urgency, to her parents, whose expressions only made Johnny’s anxiety spike. What could possibly be the issue?

 

They had to pass by the family to go back to Ian’s room. Surely a little eavesdropping wouldn’t hurt.

 

Ian ran his thumb over Johnny’s hand, something he always did when he noticed Johnny becoming tense. But watching, reading Tatiana’s lips…Ian’s touch would not be able to soothe him now.

 

There’s something horribly wrong about them. I just know it. Why else would that mushroom man say something so…

 

Tatiana, slow down. But why would that mean anything?

“Another Ian” he said. Another?! Mama! There’s only one here!

 

Their voices were becoming audible as Johnny and Ian approached. 

 

They’ve got to be replacing him!

 

“Tatiana…”

 

“They don’t belong here!”

 

Johnny froze, his hold on Ian’s hand like stone. 

 

The mushroom man? Rowan was the only one who could match that description.

 

What did he say?

 

How does she know?

 

Ian squeezed Johnny’s hand, leading him past the family, who was now eyeing them - him - intensely. It dawned on Johnny that Ian could possibly hear them.

 

But surely it wouldn’t matter. His hearing was dampened when his ears were cut, after all. 

 

But it’s still more than he could hear.

 

But they were too far away when the most important things were mentioned.

 

But what if he could read her lips like Johnny was doing?

 

What if he wasn’t focused on it at all?

 

What if he was focused on everything?

 

The anxiety intensified in waves as they reached Ian’s bedroom. Ian was quiet, but didn’t seem to be alarmed in any way.

 

Johnny, on the other hand, was struggling to contain himself.

 

He excused himself to the bathroom Ian had in his quarters, locking himself in for what he hoped would be a silent shutdown. Ian would be able to hear anything from this distance, anyway.

 

Tatiana knew. She knew . 

 

Unless Johnny was misinterpreting the whole situation.

 

No. It couldn’t possibly be that. She mentioned Rowan. She said he spoke of something concerning.

 

Another Ian. He said the words ‘another Ian’ for some godforsaken reason.

 

Why would that happen?

 

Surely this was a mistake.

 

If Ian didn’t find out about this, perhaps it was a mistake.

 

Yes, yes. A mistake.

 

But how could Rowan have said such a thing? And to Tatiana? Surely it would have been a mistake.

 

But why would Tatiana have even been near Rowan? And Rowan did not seem to take a liking to Thea, even opting to hide behind Johnny. So why would he be so willing to talk to Tatiana?

 

Unless he didn’t know he was talking to Tatiana?

 

But why wouldn’t he have known who he was talking to? Bela and Tatiana were so different. Twins, sure, but he was always able to tell them apart just fine. He’d always been able to tell twins apart with ease.

 

Was Rowan’s universe not capable of producing twin siblings or something? Had he never heard about it?

 

But even so, that was inexcusable.

 

And how did Rowan even know about that? Johnny never recalled Bela mentioning anything about Ian not being the original. 

 

Johnny scanned his mind. He’d always documented every memory he collected with extreme precision. 

 

None of his memories of Bela and Rowan’s interactions involved mentioning multiple Ians. 

 

So how?

 

Rowan. Had he ever said anything about Ian?

 

Yes. He had.

 

Bela mentioned some dude named Ian? What’s up with that?

 

The one time Johnny spoke to him.

 

He’s mine, like we had to go all this way to find another Ian, but I didn’t replace him I swear, he just falls in love with me all the time.

 

Isn’t that amazing? It’s like we’re meant for each other.

 

Fuck.

 

No.

 

How stupid could he have been, to slip up in such a horrible way? 

 

Had Rowan known he’d do such a thing?

 

Was he plotting against Johnny?

 

Surely not. No, he couldn’t have been.

 

Perhaps it was all some mistake.

 

A horrible mistake. Perhaps he should confront Rowan about it?

 

But how? 

 

-

 

Nuisances. All of you.

 

Very infuriating, indeed.

• :3

Chapter 10: is it unethical.. to love you?

Bela and Thea sat by the waves, they poured gently over their tangled feet and she handed a crystal bowl of grapes to the Greek woman with a smile. Thea took them but she didn't smile back, that made Bela falter. Why wasn't she smiling back at her?

Thea grabbed a grape from the bowl and Bela watched her intently, normally Thea didn't mind her staring at and admiring her but for some reason she kept sending glances over to her as she examined the grapes. Eventually she put the bowl to the side and it disappeared in a shower of light blue sparkles. Thea flinched at the sight and Bela frowned.

“What's wrong?”

“N-nothing.”

Bela tilted her head and pouted.

“Cmon, you can tell me anything. What's wrong?”

Thea thought for a moment and sighed, Bela wanted desperately to reach into her thoughts and know what was going through her head but she refrained. After everything Thea had been through she deserved privacy, she reminded herself.

“You don't know?” Thea finally asked. Bela was confused and she cocked her again in a slightly unnatural angle. Thea eyed her with thinly veiled discomfort so she readjusted her head to a better position. Thea still didn't look soothed.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven't read my thoughts already?”

Bela jolted back in shock, she was appalled at this. How could Thea think she would do that to her, she frowned again.

“I would never invade your privacy like that!” She insisted, Thea seemed to relax a bit at the statement but she still seemed unnerved.

“But you do it to others.” Bela froze, she didn't have a defense to that. She frowned and looked away from Thea for the first time that day.

“I do what I have to, it's just how things were back there.”

An uncomfortable silence prevailed in the space between them, neither woman spoke for a long time. The waves crashed against their legs, violent. There was a storm approaching, there hadn't been one scheduled for today. Thea cast a glance at Bela, was the storm coming from her? For the first time in months the thought made her nervous.

Bela sighed and broke the silence first. “I can stop doing it if it makes you uncomfortable.” Thea couldn't find it in herself to respond to that, what was she supposed to say? Instead she asked the question that had been haunting her for ages since.

“What did you mean,” She paused and licked her lips, suddenly unbearably nervous,”when you said you might not be who I think you are.” It was silent for a short time. Bela laughed, shrill and manic. Thea flinched at the loud sound and turned her gaze to Bela. Her smile was wider than it should be, her eyes were twitching and filled with tears.

“Where did you hear that darling?” She asked, her voice was trembling. Thea knew the signs of an episode of mania from the various soldiers she had met that were afflicted with the ailment but she never imagined she'd have to see it from her.

She opened her mouth to respond, nervous beyond comparison.

“You told me last night, before you fell asleep.” Bela lifted a gloved thumb and bit on it till blood bloomed through the white lace. Thea reached a hand out and tried to tug her hand away from her teeth but Bela disappeared in a shower of blue smoke.

“I have to go, darling. I have to go. I have to go.”

—
Bela walked through the halls, the guards whispered. They didn't wave at her, she didn't smile at them.

She found her way to the atrium, blood rushed in her ears. Her eyes were near pinpricks and her wide smile was twitching with an unnatural energy. It seemed like there was an ever present shadow around her as she walked, she swore she could see the bodies of all those she had lost on the floor that stretched before her.

The atrium doors loomed in front of her, her family was beyond it. She could sense them, they could sense her. So why was it that they seemed as though they were preparing for a fight. Maybe Bela just needed a second to calm down. She sat down at a nearby bench by the doors and smoothed out her skirt. Her glove was bloody, when had that happened?

She cleaned it with a glance, no more blood on her hands. Not anymore.

She could sense her family milling about beyond the doors, she felt calmer now. No longer manic and grinning, she stood to approach the door but she never made it as they swung open suddenly and she was tugged backwards.

Tatiana. Her sister, her lovely and protective older sister. She smiled, this time small and genuine just like before.

She opened her mouth to ask her sister why she was here, when most people arrived during the solstice - which would be held tomorrow- but her sister beat her to the punch.

“Who the hell are you?”

Bela paused, her smile fell and she blinked rapidly at her sister. Tatiana was angry, why?

“What do you mean Tati?”

“Dont fucking call me that!” There was acid in her voice, Bela had never heard her sound like this before. Especially when it was directed at Bela herself.

“Wh- Tati, what's going on?” She felt wind rush towards her, a fist was frozen in blue light before her face. It barely brushed her nose. She stumbled back, aghast.

“T-Tati?” Her voice was weak, like a child seeking comfort from a parent. Tatiana met it with a snarl and another raised fist.

“You’re not Belladonna, don’t fucking call me that, you’re not my sister you’re just some fraud!”

“Tati…” A tear rolled down her face, their parents rushed out into the hall and looked at the scene before them. Instead of rushing to ask Bela what happened they glared at her.

“Release our daughter!” Bela turned towards them, tears building in her eyes, she stepped back and her magic released its protective hold on Tatiana. Her fist dropped and their parents tugged Tatiana away from Bela, looking at her like she was some sort of monster. She wasn't a monster, right?

“Mama, Papa.” Her parents' faces scrunched up in revulsion at her voice.

“You're not her. How dare you flounce around as though you're her. Stay away from us!”

Bela stumbled further back, she raised a hand up and bit her tumb. Blood was drawn again. Her magic swirled around her in a haze, tears slipped down her face.

“Mama.” She whispered.

Her mother watched her with a cold gaze.

Bela felt something break, a cord deep within her. It snapped like a rope under tension. Her magic built and flooded the hall, when it was gone so was Bela. There were blood droplets on the floor. Tatiana eyed them suspiciously.

‘Who are you, really?” She muttered, staring at the bright red droplets of blood. She had a feeling that whoever that woman was wasn't Bela but how to prove it? Wait- don't they have a lab? Can't she run a test with….

She stared at the blood droplets again, her magic swirled around her fingers. Could she really do this? Could she handle what she might find out?

She made up her mind, she had to, for Belladonna. The real one.

—

Tatiana rushed through the halls, in her pocket sat her secret. She didn't tell her parents what she'd be doing, but before this she needed to do one last thing. Something she should have done first maybe, but it was too late for regrets.

She headed towards Ian’s quarters in the palace, she came across Johnny as she did and she stopped halfway and watched as she ran past her. Towards the atrium maybe? The gardens were that way too, but surely he hadn't heard her, especially her little tidbit about the mushroom man. Steeling herself she glanced down the hallway towards Ian and the way Johnny had rushed off too.

Making up her mind she continued her way towards Ian, he had to know what she found out. It involved him, he deserved to not be lied to.

—

Johnny raced down the hallway, thoughts flooded his mind at rapid speed. Through it all remained a prevalent and boiling rage. Almost the same rage he experienced when he faced down Damian. He was going to kill that mushroom for spilling his secret. And then he was going to kill himself because how could he be so dumb as to spill his and Bela’s secret so easily.

They had agreed to never let it slip and what did he do, he let it slip. He mentally slapped himself for his mistake and continued rushing forward. He had to set things straight, maybe if he could get Rowan to tell her it was a joke or something he misheard, Tatiana wouldn't spill it to Ian. And then he wouldn't have to watch as the love of his life turned him away for a second time.

The garden spread before him, Johnny was surprised he got here so quickly, and he didn't run into anyone on the way here either. Which meant he was sure to have no witnesses to this conversation. Steeling himself for the third time that day he marched through the garden and found the mush sitting silently and watching a caterpillar try and eat a golden leaf.

“You.” The word was dripping with disdain.

Rowan turned, clearly surprised to see him again, much less hear him.

“Weren't you with your man or something? Y'know after abandoning me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Rowan shut his mouth and leaned away from Johnny who had placed himself firmly before the seated man.

“You told her.”

“I told who? And what did I tell them?” Nervousness dripped like sweat from his words. Johnny almost smiled at how unnerved he was, good.

“You told her that there was another Ian, you shouldn't have done that, it was a damned secret.”

Rowan watched the unhinged man before him with barely veiled fear, Johnny let his lips twitch into a smile this time. The mush shrunk back even more at the sight.

“W-what?”

“You heard me.”

“I-”

“Shut it. Listen to me carefully, okay?”

Rowan nodded as Johnny loomed over him, shadowed in an ominous light.

“You're going to tell her it was a misunderstanding, that it was something you misheard, and you're going to apologize for scaring everyone with your question. Alright?”

There was no question in his words, it was clear that they were a demand. So Rowan agreed.

Johnny leaned back and smiled, his eyes squinting with the force of it.

“Good. Let's go.”

—

Chapter 11: Eleven

 

Rowan never felt like this before, the stress, the anxiety, the guilt. He didn’t know what he said out loud…

 

As Johnny and him were walking at a fast pace, almost sprinting, his body wanted to spout any type of excuse, anything to get him out of this “bad dog” mentality.

 

“I-“ Rowan stopped in his tracks as Johnny looked behind, staring daggers at his face.

 

“ C'mon let’s go-“ Johnny didn’t have time for his dramatics , he had to prevent war from breaking out with their lovers…especially with bela. Johnny was berating himself in his head at this point but stopped as Rowan opened his mouth to speak.

 

“I…I’m s-sorry, I d-didn't know. Everything is so confusing I-i just” Johnny could barely hear him from all his stuttering. In the corner of his eye he could see little leaves and thorns falling as he kept trying to explain himself.

 

Johnny had to do something and fast if they were going to make it there on time.

 

Johnny placed a well meaning but firm grip on Rowan’s shoulder, trying to muster a genuine smile.

 

“Listen…b-buddy” oh this hurts “it’s going to be okay. We just gotta explain everything, make it right, and get back to normal okay?” Johnny was clearly trying to speed off with Rowan in his heavy grasp.

 

Rowan noticed his weird behavior and sighed begrudgingly . He could tell Johnny was “trying” to cheer him up but the guilt kept gnawing at him like a parasite. He didn’t want to cause more problems so he brushed it off.

 

“Yes of course…back to normal.” Rowan mustered up a somewhat smile back at him. 

 

Two of them awkwardly nodded and went back to sprinting towards the atrium but Johnny was shaking from the scenarios that could happen to him or the others if it got out. He had to calm himself down if he were to make his case to them.

 

Rowan was confused on why they were going in a different direction but Johnny ignored him and dragged him even harder towards the lab.

 

Yes…the lab

It always calmed him down

Yes yes just one experiment to get back to saving the day

 

Johnny and rowan made their way towards the freezing cold lab as Johnny quickly grabbed his lab coat and glasses to get his fix. 

 

Rowan watched him intently as he grabbed several glass tubes and chemicals from the drawers. He cautiously but swiftly poured each one, not spilling a single drop. Johnny swirled it around in his hand, glancing at what reaction would happen next. His erratic nature became calmer and slower as he went to test more of his experiments.

 

Rowan noticed what he was mixing immediately, wanting to get closer to him.

 

“You’re making chloroform right?”

 

Johnny stopped in his tracks as he turned his head in shock at Rowan

 

“How do you know how to make it?” Johnny was strangely intrigued on how this mush man was able to recognize chemicals off the spot.

 

Rowan came closer to the testing table and lifted a test tube up in the air

 

“Because it’s my specialty duh? I like to work with chemicals! specifically detonation and toxins”  Rowan reached into his mushroom cap and got out a tube of purple liquid. 

 

Johnny looked in…well he could just watch the mush do his magic(how…where the fuck does he store it) he tried to lose his mind over it but made a mental note to test Rowan on it

 

Rowan poured some of the purple liquid into the tube, using his tail to grab another vial in his cap towards his hand. A puff of smoke fumed from the glass bottle and Rowan gave it to Johnny

 

“Go ahead, look at it…well of course don’t smell it” Rowan’s eyes glittered in anticipation, probably the only sign of happiness coming from him since coming here.

 

Johnny examined it closely and his eyes widened slightly

 

“This…this is really pure. I mean illegally pure. where the hell do you find these chemicals?!”

 

Rowan smirked and turned away, avoiding answering that question.

 

“I have my ways…ha” 

 

Johnny scoffed as he felt a little relieved as they had something in common. Though their problems still remained. Johnny placed the vials on a stand as he sat down to think about how to fix this mess they’re in.

 

-

 

“ I didn’t know who to go to…Bela…a fake?”

 

“And…you heard this from a mushroom man…?”

 

Tati and Ian were trying to make sense of it all, their lovers were fakes? Where did they come from and who were they truly. The questions swirled throughout their mind as they both tried to comfort each other.

 

“There has to be a logical reason for this…maybe we can prove that she’s real?” Tati whispered, still shaking from what she could do in this situation.

 

Ian couldn’t stay sane at this moment, all these memories replaced by a man who claims to Johnny? Same appearance and everything. he was filled with anger, disappointment, guilt, and…sadness

 

Ian thought for a moment pushing away his emotions as an idea came to mind

 

“I know! What about the lab? We could test a DNA sample of them to see if they’re genuine” Ian’s eyes were filled with hope, seeing that maybe they weren’t going insane and that this is all a misunderstanding.

 

Tati nodded sincerely, wanting this nightmare to be over with as Ian grabbed Tati as they quickly teleported to the lab

 

-

 

Johnny and Rowan were across from each other as they thought long and hard what could happen next.

 

Suddenly a blast of black flicks appear as Ian and Tati arrive at the lab, clearly worried to the bone. Tati looked around as Ian went up to Johnny to explain their idea. She walked around the bright glossy room when her eye was directed onto rowan…

 

“ You!!” Tatiana’s yell could be heard across the room as she loudly stepped towards the short man.

 

She bended over to look at him directly in the eye as rowan was of course nervous as fuck.

 

“What did you mean by that statement ! Is this a joke? You need to explain to me what happened-“ Tatiana went on and on, asking Rowan to provide an explanation as he stood up and stepped backwards, hitting himself into a corner. Johnny tried to intervene but Ian stopped him, still feeling betrayal from his secret. 

 

Rowan was clearly seen shaking unnaturally as his leaves and thrones were scattered around his body, closing in tighter. Tatiana, a little scared from this reaction, stepped a bit backwards.

 

His eyes suddenly flashed black and blue, almost like a ticking time bomb and….

 

Pop!

 

Everyone looked at Rowan in horror as there was no mushroom cap on him…?

 

It slowly rolled onto the ground and plopped onto his back

 

Johnny felt something serious just happened…he tested that it was a part of his head and it suddenly…fell off?

 

The others looked back at Rowan, seeing blood slowly pour from his head down to his face as his eyes rolled back and…

 

Collapsed onto the ground

 

“aaAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Chapter 12: Twelve

Johnny had never heard Ian screech like that.

He also had never thought Rowan’s cap could do that, either.

He needed to test it.

He took the cap as a specimen, placing it onto a lab table. Now, what to do with Rowan?

He had a tail. He dragged the tail, and Rowan, towards an examination table, hoisting him up and tossing him onto it like a sack of potatoes. Rowan’s limbs flopped uselessly around, and his head bled profusely on just about everything. It looked like a murder scene turned autopsy, and Ian was no less horrified now than when it first happened.

“What the fuck was that?” Tatiana demanded. “Is he dead? Was that supposed to distract us?”

“No, and no,” Johnny said simply, hooking up Rowan to various machines to check his vitals. “I think it was a defense mechanism of sorts.”

“Why would he need to do that?!”

Johnny turned to Tatiana, glaring. “Perhaps if someone did not corner him in an interrogation and let him speak, we would have his answers.”

She glared right back at him, keeping silent as he ran his tests.

“He’s alive,” Johnny stated. “But comatose. Good job, Tati.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Not if you wanted answers.”

Johnny turned around completely, eyes darting between his lover and Tatiana. Ian looked so defeated, and Tatiana looked horribly enraged. What a great combination. Johnny would surely have to thank Rowan for that harrowing display and leaving him to the wolves.

“You’re fakes,” Tatiana spat. “I know you are. He said so himself.”

“Fakes?”

“Yes! You must be shapeshifters or something! Some poser! A doppelganger!”

“I can assure you I am no shapeshifter,” Johnny said flatly. “Neither is Rowan. Well, if you don’t count that terrible show earlier.”

“And what of Bela?!”

“I don’t think she can do that, either.”

Tatiana grumbled, then held her hand out to Ian, who gave her a small vial.

Blood?

“This will be proof,” Tatiana grinned wickedly, “against your words. If you are lying, this will tell me so.”

“How?”

“Bela’s blood,” Ian explained. “It has to be hers.”

Johnny became enraged almost immediately. “Her blood? What did you do to her-”

“We didn’t go and kill her or something,” Tatiana rolled her eyes. “She left. I don’t know where she is, but she left just enough of this to collect.”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed at the woman as she began to gather equipment to test the blood sample. In truth, he wasn’t sure if the DNA match would transcend dimensions. Everything else was the same, though. Surely it should.

Johnny stole a look at Ian, who was already looking back at him. His gaze quickly darted away, though. It hurt to see him in such a state.

He figured this could very well be the last time they were near one another. Why not?

Johnny took Ian’s hand, and to his surprise, Ian didn’t fight it. He didn’t pull away, he didn’t yell or scold. He squeezed Johnny’s hand, unable to meet his eyes. What was going through his mind was beyond Johnny. For once, he couldn’t decipher his love.

“Why are you letting him do that?” Tatiana gritted.

No answer. Not even a glance. He let go of Johnny’s hand.

To wipe his tears.

Johnny so desperately wanted to comfort Ian, to kiss him and tell him everything would be fine, but he wasn’t sure Tatiana would allow him that privilege.

He wasn’t even sure he deserved it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Ian taking his hand once again, tugging.

“I need a moment alone with him,” he told Tatiana. “Continue the test.”

She hummed as they walked through the lab entrance, and Ian almost immediately put Johnny against the wall.

“Johnny,” Ian sighed. “Truth. I need you to tell me the fucking truth.”

Johnny could feel himself shriveling up before Ian. If he had a mushroom cap of his own, it’d surely fall off right now.

“Your silence isn’t going to help,” Ian urged. “In fact, it only makes you look bad. Tell me the truth. Please.”

His eyes locked on Johnny’s. He was panicking, clearly. If he kept with his lie, there was a chance the blood test could say otherwise and ruin everything. But there was a chance it could match his lie, and everything would be okay.

But that lie would forever linger over his head. His paranoia would surely get the better of him one day.

But to say the truth now? The blood test wouldn’t matter anymore.

But he wouldn’t be interrogated anymore.

But he could lose Ian again.

That blood test could make him lose Ian again, too.

He weighed his options. The only thing the lie had to stand on was the blood test, and even that wasn’t a guarantee.

The majority of possibilities told him that he’d end up having to confess somewhere along the way. It was inevitable.

Might as well do it now.

Johnny sighed sharply as he braced himself.

“Ian.”

“Johnny, please.”

“I’m… I’m not from this dimension.”

Ian looked as though he was crumbling.

“What do you mean? How could you not be?”

“You don’t really have reason to believe I am. I’m sorry.”

“But you recalled just about every memory we ever shared! How could you do that?!”

“Because I went through that in my dimension, Ian.”

“But the war!”

“You died in my war, Ian.” Johnny’s mind flooded with the memories. Those horrid things. “That blast killed you. I saw your body. You were missing half of it, Ian. That same half of you that got injured.”

“You died in mine…” Ian lowered his gaze. “But you act the same. I can’t…”
“We are the same,” Johnny said, voice breaking. “I mean, come on, you act just like him. You are him. Just not from that dimension.”

“But you never lived anything out with me.”

“You said it yourself!” Johnny grew desperate, already aching, trying to cling onto Ian. “You asked me why the dimensions should matter if the experiences are the same! So why should it?!”

Ian fell silent. His shoulders slumped. He sighed heavily.

“Ian,” Johnny insisted. “We lost one another. Everything about our lives up until that war was identical. You’ve even told me my soul tasted identical to before the war!”

“I know I did…”

“It’s the same!”

“Wouldn’t it feel like a replacement?”

“Is that how it feels to you?”

“Is that not how it feels to you?”

Johnny considered the thought. “No. It feels more like a reincarnation of sorts. Reuniting. Feels like I haven’t seen you for some time, and we just crossed one another again.”

Ian smiled faintly. It faded as quickly as it came. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you come to this dimension? Why would you go to such lengths to assimilate here?”

“Ian.”

“What?’

“If I died, you’d do anything to get me back, yes?”

“Yes,” Ian said quickly. “It didn’t work when I tried.”

“But it worked for me,” Johnny reasoned. “I tried everything to get you back. This worked.”

Ian gave Johnny an odd look, searching for something within him.
“Johnny?”

“Yes, my love?”

Ian hesitated at the name. “If I were to still love you, would that be wrong?”

“Why would it be wrong?”

“Because you’re not from here.”

“But I love you just as much.”

Ian paused again. He was caving, Johnny could feel it. He was so close, right in front of him. He just needed a little push.

Johnny cupped Ian’s face in his hands, kissing him rather harshly. He felt Ian resist for a moment, before melting entirely into his embrace.

His anxiety was finally gone. Ian broke away from him, giggling.

“Tatiana’s not gonna like this, you know.”

The anxiety came right back. He’d forgotten all about Tatiana.

The blood test. Fuck.

Everything was crashing down on him again, and Ian was quick to notice.

“You’ll have me, okay?” Ian stroked Johnny’s hair. “If everything ends up going to shit, I’ll go wherever you do.”

“I am a little different though,” Johnny admitted. “Trauma.”

“You think that’s gonna do anything?” Ian laughed. “I’m missing body parts, for fuck’s sake!”

Johnny giggled, but sighed heavily. “I’ve killed, Ian. I’ve killed so many.”

“So have I.”

Johnny met his eyes again. He’d become serious once more.

“After the war,” Ian began, “after you’d died, I couldn’t keep up with my usual soul rules. You know, not going after people’s souls?”

“But that was to survive.”

“Not always,” Ian admitted. “I couldn’t really cope with anything for a while. My Sin got a hold of me. I just ate the souls of everyone so nothing was really wasted.”

“Do you still do that?”

“Haven’t since you came back. Pretty recent, I know.”

“Would it be bad to admit I’d also cope in a similar way?”

“I’d be a hypocrite for saying yes, Johnny.”

“I’d use mine as specimens. Test subjects.”

“Same as ever,” Ian chuckled, shaking his head. “I guess that settles it.”

“Settles what?”

“You and I went through the same shit, even though we were in separate dimensions. Did the same shit, too.” Ian kissed Johnny. “I can’t exactly blame you for it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For lying to you. I promised I wouldn’t, and I-”

“It’s okay,” Ian said softly. “You were just trying to keep me happy. I understand.”

Tears welled up in Johnny’s eyes, clouding his vision. He didn’t understand how Ian could be so compassionate. The much needed wave of relief washed over him. Such a foreign feeling.

“We gotta go back in there,” Ian sighed, eyeing the lab doors. “The test is done.”

…
“Man this show is chaotic” Cierro stated
“You’re telling me…maybe too much kissing and death for my taste” Elias answered
“WHERE THE FUCK AM I” Jasper shouted

Chapter 13: Thirteen

Tatiana stared incomprehensibly at the screen before her, the results were solid. True and right. But they couldn't be, she refused to believe it. If these results were right- 

 

The large doors opened in the lab and Johnny and Ian stepped in, Tatiana ran a hand through her hair tugging it out of its usual bun and letting it brush against the back of her cropped hoodie. The hoodie she had stolen from Bela’s closet after her, after her death. 

 

She felt tears build in her eyes, she refused to let them fall, they didn't deserve to not after all that has happened today. Now was not the time for tears, she rushed out past Johnny and Ian ignoring their cries for her to slow down and wait. Her bell bottoms were practically smoking at the ends and her shoes were in tatters when she skidded to a stop somewhere on the beach near the palace. 

 

She faced the crashing waves. She screamed and they roared back, her body hunched over and fell into the hot sand as her voice faded out like a ghostly wind. She felt empty, she felt like a ghost. She was a terrible sister. A horrid twin. 

 

After all, she couldn't even tell the difference between her little sister and an imposter. 

 

—

 

Thea faced the waves, they lapped mournfully at her feet. She needed to find Bela, she had tried reaching for her as she left but the other woman had used her magic to teleport to God's know where. Thea had been left standing amid their picnic, staring at the space Bela had occupied.

 

She shouldn't have pushed, she cursed herself and the ocean hissed back as though mirroring her frustration. She could feel fingernails making crescent marks in her palms as she clenched her fists tightly, she had to find Bela. If not to apologize than to at least comfort her, she knew better than most how fragile Bela was. 

 

She knew Bela hid it as best as she could, that she tried to act like she did before she was switched, but spending so much time with the other woman let her see the cracks in the facade of happiness. She only hoped she’d be able to find Bela before anything triggered her in her fragile state, judging from what she had seen earlier Bela was seconds away from some kind of breakdown and with the powers she held it could prove to be disastrous. 

 

She let her body relax, now was no time to be stressing about what she should have done. Now was a time to fix what she could now, fix the present, not mourn the past. She turned to leave the beach and walk up the paved stone pathway that had led to the private stretch of sand she had planned their date for. 

 

She was interrupted by a shrill and enraged scream. She froze, it sounded like Bela. But she knew better than most the sound of Bela’s voice. Tatiana. Why was Tatiana screaming? What had happened in the time Thea had been frozen on the beach and turning her conversation with Bela over in her head. Sirely nothing terrible could have happened but she couldn't help but feel a strong sense of dread in her gut.

 

She practically ran from the grove, sandaled feet slapping the ground harshly, she had to find Tatiana. Her screaming was definitely related to Bela, her instincts said so, and she hadn't gotten to where she was by ignoring her instincts. 

 

—

 

It's raining.

 

There was red dripping, warm, pooling, staining the stone floors. 

 

It’s pouring.

 

There was laughter, shrill and manic. There were screams, agonizing and gurgling. There were final breaths, bubbling and gasping.

 

The old man is snoring. 

 

There were bodies, they laid as though they were asleep. They weren't. 

 

He went to bed. 

 

There were cell doors open, people running. They didn't make it far. 

 

Bumped his head.

 

A runaway turned around, screamed, and his head exploded in a burst of colorful confetti. 

 

And he couldn't get up…

 

There was someone on the floor, crawling and pleading. The woman behind him smiled, her face was hidden in the shadows. 

 

…In the morning. 

 

There was death and there was chaos, there was blood and there was tears, there was a dead body lying before the woman where it had once been moving and begging for life. She had not granted his wish. 

 

She smiled.  

 

—

 

Thea found Tatiana wailing on the beach, she rushed towards the woman. Her hair was undone, that was unusual of her. She had always hated having her hair down. She had only grown it out in memory of Bela, usually she kept it short; a pixie cut of curls. 

 

Thea approached her, Tatiana turned her head and her face was red and splotchy, streaked with tears. Thea held out a hand carefully to the woman, Tatiana took it allowing her to pull her to her feet.

 

“What happened?” Thea practically demanded. Tatiana shook with silent sobs and steadied herself enough to choke out an answer.

 

“I did something bad, Thea, I did something terrible to her.” Thea felt her blood run cold, there was only one reason why Tatiana would be so shook up. Had she really-

 

“Did you have a fight with Bela?” Tatiana was silent, sobbing in hiccups. 

 

“Answer me!” 

 

“Yes! I hurt her terribly. I'm a horrible sister, I promised to protect her and what did I do? I tried to fucking hit her, I pushed her till she ran, I called her a fake, a fraud . I trusted the words of some stranger over my own little sister . I made her bleed. ”

 

 The words spilled from tatiana like running water, uncaring of who it hit on the way down. Thea felt an urge to throw Tatiana to the ground, to hit her over and over and over and over- 

 

She huffed and turned away from Tatiana.

 

“Get yourself together, we need to find her, now. She wasn't stable when she ran into you, I can't even imagine what she could be doing right now.”

 

Tatiana gulped in air and rubbed her face harshly with her sleeve, mascara and eyeshadow staining the cloth and smudging her face. 

 

“But where would she go? She rarely spends time at home anymore; she prefers the palace. She wouldn't have left the island..” Tatiana muttered the words as she bit at her thumb hard enough to draw blood. Where would Bela be? 

 

Droplets wove their way down her hand, over her wrist and stained the soft cloth of her hoodie further. If she was in Bela’s shoes, if she was having a breakdown with that amount of power, if she was looking for an outlet where would she-

 

“The dungeons!” She looked at Thea with horror untold. “She has to be at the dungeons.” 

 

—

 

Mary, Mary, quite contrary.

 

There were screams and then silence, a woman walked through the carnage. She was covered in red. She couldn't see the faces of the deceased, they were blurred like smudged pastels. 

 

How does your garden grow? 

 

There were black dahlias blooming from the blood, sparkles of magic; deep and dark blue. Twisted, mournful, broken. 

 

With silver bells.

 

There were people deeper in the building, who awaited their fate with fear. The walking sword, white and polished. Red and bloody. Sharp and merciless. 

 

And cockle shells. 

 

There were screams and gurgles, faint humming played like a melody over the choir of death and desolation. 

 

And pretty maids… 

 

The people in their cells stood as the sword approached, they bowed their necks and waited for it to fall. Their executioner had arrived. 

 

…All in a row.

 

There were gurgles and mummers, whines and panting final pleas. They stood in their cells, neatly lined in a solid row. In pairs of two they danced towards their executioner. They wept as they did so. They were no longer weeping when they hit the floor.

 

A waltz of death.

 

And their partner remained standing, for she was Death’s favored, for she was Death’s angel .

 

—

 

Johnny looked at the DNA test before him.

 

It was positive. 

 

It was a perfect match.

 

Tatiana was gone, he could only assume what this meant. 

 

She had likely gone to find Bela, but if Bela had bled before she left, if she had been driven towards what he thought she had-

 

Ian’s firm hand on his shoulder shocked him out of his thoughts.

 

“Is she from another dimension too?” Johnny nodded his affirmations, behind them Rowan groaned clearly coming back to wakefulness. Luckily the bleeding had stopped, Johnny approached him and began to disconnect him from the machines. 

 

“We need to find her, fast.” 

 

“Why?”

 

“Remember what you told me? Of losing control after the war? She'll likely be doing the same.” Ian hissed as the implications of it all fell on him, he wasn't an idiot he could assume how badly this could go. A being of power like her? She was dangerous enough, she'd be twice as dangerous now if she wasn't in control.

 

Once Rowan was disconnected Johnny turned to Ian, “Could you carry him, I think I know where she is.” Ian nodded his assent and quickly picked up the groaning man. Throwing him in a fireman carry over his intact arm to make it easier to hold him. The mush groaned even more at the treatment but it was the only way. 

 

Johnny quickly searched through various drawers muttering words under his breath, once he found what he was looking for he let out a small Aha! Ian watched as he pulled an object from a drawer, it looked much like an epi-pen. 

 

“What's that for?” 

 

“It’s an anesthetic, I designed it specifically for Bela, she asked me to. She said to use it if I couldn't snap her out of a meltdown, especially if she had a meltdown here.” 

 

Ian considered his words, were Bela’s meltdowns that common? And if they were, why hasn't she had one in the time since they'd been here? Or maybe she did and Johnny had taken care of it before anyone knew. Was that why he insisted on staying at the palace so much? 

 

Before he could wonder too much about it Johnny grabbed his shoulder and led them out of the lab in a large sweeping gait.

 

“We have to hurry, we can't let Tatiana or Thea see her like that, I don't know how they’d react.” 

 

—

 

Alina sat on the bed of her chambers, nearby Mihai was staring out the window. Neither spoke. Afterall, what do you say when you find out you might have been living with an imposter of your dead daughter for the past few months? 

 

Alina felt tears trickle down her face, she summoned her veil and hid her face behind it for the first time in a while. The silence prevailed. 

 

Her daughter, her shining light.

 

Her darling daughter.

 

She couldn't think of anything other than her, how the imposter had perfectly perfected her voice, her smile, her laugh. Tears fell faster, they were unseen behind the thick veil. 

 

All she could hear was the voice, the way the imposter sounded so heartbroken. What would she do if this was all proven to be a lie? How could she be forgiven either way. She was a terrible mother. 

 

She missed her daughter something terrible.

 

—

 

Ring around the rosie.

 

There was silence for the first time in the building, it was eerie. 

 

A pocket full of posies

 

The silence was broken by laughter. High pitched and manic. Shaking and sobbing. Giggles and shrieks. 

 

Ashes, ashes…

 

There was blood painting the walls, her gloves were torn. Her hands were red, the faces were blurred. She felt for her face, it was covered in red. 

 

We all fall down! 

 

She fell to the floor, laughing. Shrieks and giggles, sobs and screams. They echoed in the building. You could hear them outside like a ghost's last moments. 

 

Skip around the rosie…

 

She couldn't see, her vision was blurred, she laughed harder. How funny was that?

 

Hop…

 

She could feel people approaching.

 

Fly…

 

First two, a pair, her favorite number. 

 

Crawl…

 

Then three, a trio, her least favorite number. 

 

Run…

 

The abandoned bodies shifted, puppetered by bloodied and blue glowing strings. 

 

Tiptoe…

 

She stood on shaky, bloodied legs. Her skirts swirled around her. She hated when people saw her like this. But she supposed…

 

Gallop…

 

She could turn it into a game, right? 

 

—

Chapter 14: Fourteen

A shrill laughter filled the air, echoing through the dungeons. Johnny had seen plenty of Bela’s meltdowns, but this was unbecoming of the woman he called his friend.

 

Her eyes wandered, scanned, but did not see anything. Johnny could recognize that fact right away. Her eyes, glowing like neon, aimlessly seeking out nothing. They’d passed over Johnny, but they did not settle on him. She was too far gone to recognize his face, it seemed.

The laughter melded into one sound, a mortifying cry of what Johnny knew was all of Bela’s suffering coming undone, unfurling before them all. The bodies before them began to slowly rise from the ground, blood droplets rising as though dripping in antigravity. 

 

Johnny, looking back at who was with him, came to a daunting realization. He couldn’t just waltz over to Bela and calm her down. She was far too unstable, and all of the people here were important to her in some way. Far too dangerous. He’d put everything at risk.

 

The two war veterans, Ian and Thea. Hesitance struck them, they’d obviously never witnessed such things before.

 

Her own sister, horrified into paralysis. 

 

And Rowan, vulnerable and still so lethargic from his earlier panic. As it stood now, Johnny was the only one calm enough to do anything.

 

But they all had to do something. 

 

He stepped forward. Nobody else dared to. 

 

“Guys.” Johnny turned to the group, eyeing the bodies rising before them. “You can’t stay in one place. She’s going to use those bodies against us.”

 

“What?!” Thea stepped forward. “How are we supposed to avoid all of that?!”

 

“The same way you avoided flying attacks in war,” Johnny sighed sharply. 

 

The shrieking stopped abruptly. The echoing came to a similar halt, as though all noise had been shut off. Johnny felt as though he was deaf . He hummed, felt the vibrations from his throat, but could not hear a sound. This was Bela’s doing, he was sure of it.

 

Sharp whispers cut through the thick silence, as though right in everyone’s ear:

 

Play with me.

 

The bodies nearest the group hurled forward, and the ground rippled like liquid following the assault. They all turned to run away from the ripples, and Johnny tried to scream for them, but not even the vibrations of his voice were felt anymore. He felt suspended in the air. His surroundings had no feeling. The ground held no mass, the cold of the dungeon area no longer numbed his extremities, not even his clothes gave any weight. But here he was, on the ground, in the cold of the dungeon, feeling nothing but his own existence.

 

He forced himself to jump between the ripples, dodging a body that flew past him, splattering blood across his face. Not even that was noticeable. He couldn’t feel what he saw, after all.

 

Wait, where was that body headed?!

 

Johnny whipped his head around, searching for the body that was already advancing towards him, carrying a horrified Rowan, flailing his limbs around.

 

On instinct, Johnny grabbed for the body, prying one of the arms into dislocation. He and Rowan tumbled to the ground, and he saw the mush fall limp once again, clearly unable to keep conscious. 

 

Johnny dragged him by the tail, hoisting him over his back and sprinting towards the others, who were struggling to dodge the new wave of bodies Bela had flung their way.

 

In a disorienting flash, all sound had returned to their ears at once, led by an enraged shriek from Bela. It was enough to have Ian stumbling, and Johnny realized it probably was like a flash grenade to his inhuman hearing.

 

Tatiana fell backwards, desperately kicking her legs against the headless figure that had a stone grasp on her ankles. Thea grabbed for Tatiana, desperately hugging her torso while giving strong kicks to the dead body. One of her kicks was enough to split the body in two, the tension making it snap with ease. It fell to the ground before them, but each half soon began to rise once more.

 

The air rippled in a shockwave towards everyone, hitting Johnny square in the diaphragm. He collapsed, still holding Rowan’s limp figure, gasping for air that pricked his lungs.

 

Another wave, but not of bodies. He didn’t know where to put Rowan. Nowhere was safe for the mush to rest. 

 

Johnny tried to pick him back up, but Rowan stirred. His eyes shot open, and he scrambled to get to his feet, stumbling and clinging to Johnny, who was still wheezing. 

 

Johnny narrowed his eyes at the blood droplets swirling in the air. They pulsed, becoming odd shapes before settling into sharp spikes, aimed directly for them.

 

Again, Johnny’s voice failed him. Nobody could speak, nobody could even feel their surroundings…

How the fuck was Johnny supposed to get close to Bela?

 

He thought of his wings, but that was of no use. He couldn’t fly, he’d never bothered to learn. It was of no importance, compared to finding Ian. It’s not like he brought his wings out, anyway.

 

Startling him out of his thoughts was a glowing blue vial of something being hurled towards the blood, bursting in a powdery explosion. It froze the surrounding droplets, sending them plummeting towards the ground.

 

Liquid nitrogen? How could-

 

A piercing scream yet again startled him. He turned towards Rowan, who had somehow gotten his voice back, launching vials of unknown substances towards Bela’s direction. He didn’t even know where Rowan had acquired so many vials; he had a full arsenal of them. He grabbed a handful, chucking them with concerning precision. His shirt was tugged into a makeshift bowl, and Johnny almost swore the shirt was producing the vials. 

 

He would have thought to study such phenomena, but a sharp acidic pain seared through his thigh, sending him straight to the now liquifying ground.

 

He turned to look at his leg, which was cauterizing and now healing over. The skin looked like it was hit by-

 

“Acid,” Johnny screamed. “The blood’s acid now!”

 

Ian narrowly dodged a barrage of the weaponized blood, sinking below in a puff of smokey shadows. He came back up near Johnny, now soaked in what looked like ink.

 

Shit . The ground was no more, sending them all plummeting into what was now a midnight sea. 

 

Hands began to reach out from the murky liquid. If not for the color, Johnny figured it’d look like the personification of a hellish ocean.

 

Rowan’s body bobbed up above the surface right next to Johnny, and the others came to the surface with choked gasps. Johnny poked Rowan’s body, sending it drifting away slowly. He was still alive, thank goodness, but he’d passed out yet again. He didn’t understand how the fuck the mush was so damn buoyant. 

 

“How the hell…?” Johnny hissed. 

 

“What the fuck do we do?!” Ian shouted. “S’ not like we can tackle the woman!”

 

“Definitely not like this,” Thea agreed. “We can’t even reach her from here!”

 

“She’s so far,” Tatiana cried. Tears made their way into the lake of ink they were trapped in, refusing to mix like oil and water. “I think we’re gonna die!”

 

“We can’t ,” Johnny gritted. 

 

His mind raced, trying to come up with any possible solution against the spontaneity of Bela’s attacks. So randomized, how was anything supposed to-

 

Wait. Everything was possible when Bela got like this. 

 

Part of him thought it would be impossible to compete with every possibility. He knew it would be.

 

So why go against it?

 

“I have a horrible idea,” Johnny chuckled nervously. Thea only looked at him in horror.

 

“You having any ideas can’t be good,” Rowan snickered. When did he wake up?

 

“What is it?” Ian urged. His eyes, so full of hope. It reassured Johnny to know he truly did trust him.

 

“We can’t fight this,” Johnny admitted. “We have to work with her.”

 

“We’ll die if we do that,” Tatiana screamed.

 

“No. We just have to feed into her game.”

 

“How?!”

 

Johnny looked at Bela. Her eyes frantically darted towards everything before her, and still, she did not settle her maniacal gaze on anything. Her laughter became distorted.

 

“Je ne sais pas-” 

 

What the fuck? Last time he checked, Tatiana didn’t speak French .

 

“¿Qué estás diciendo?!” 

 

“Nasıl?”

 

“ты звучишь по-другому.” Rowan’s eyes widened, and he laughed nervously. 

 

Johnny shushed them all. Now they had a language barrier, great. He swam closer to Bela, who was now raising the bodies out of the-

 

Sand? 

 

Quicksand . 

 

How much worse could this get?!

 

Johnny raised his fist against his head, a sign the others knew meant to freeze. He didn’t think they all knew sign language, but common motions from combat would surely have to suffice.

 

The bodies dipped down towards them, crashing into the sand around them with harsh thuds. Bela was clearly put off by the result, raising her arm slowly. The sand began to harden enough for them to claw their way to the surface, but now Johnny felt his vision tunnel.

 

No. The one thing they’d been relying on until now was their sight. How was he supposed to do anything?

 

Bela blew a soft puff of air like a candle was before her, and Johnny’s vision went black.

 

“Ian?!”

 

“Que?!”

 

Fuck. Still not the same. Names alone wouldn’t work, though they transcended language.

 

Johnny felt around, hand wrapping around something soft. 

 

Rowan.

 

Rowan screamed, but Johnny shushed him again before advancing, feeling for anything he heard move. He felt Rowan relax, and it made him realize his sense of surroundings had returned. Something coiled around his arm, presumably Rowan’s tail.

 

He had to get to Ian. He recognized his movements far more than anything else in this godforsaken hellhole.

 

“Какого черта ты делаешь?” 

 

“ Shhh! ”

 

He felt himself blink. No light, no color, nothing . 

 

He bumped into something cold , immediately yanking Rowan in a sprint in the opposite direction. He hoped it wouldn’t follow them, otherwise he might be royally fucked .

 

“Ian?! Thea?! Uphi?!” 

 

Oh, come on, Xhosa?! He’d never even been to Africa!

 

“Tati?!”

 

Tatiana screamed something that he knew was French, but couldn’t seem to understand. At least he heard her.

 

“Herkes iyi mi?”

 

Thea. Alright, everyone was still alive.

 

“Bela!”

 

Bela shrieked at the call. Johnny’s vision returned fully with the next blink, making him squint.

 

The relief of sight was immediately torn from him when gravity shifted on its side.

 

A horrible wave of echoing screams filled the area as the group hurdled straight towards Bela. She lifted a finger, dropping it limply. Gravity followed suit, and they all fell harshly onto the now cobbled floor. Her sadistic laughter was next to echo.

 

Johnny sat up with a groan, noticing the anesthetic pen on the ground. He snatched it up quickly. This was the only way out of the chaos, he couldn’t afford to just lose it.

 

More bodies plummeted straight towards them, sending Johnny rolling on the ground to dodge the frenzy. Rowan threw yet another test tube in the air, and the body in front of him exploded. The chunks hit the group like rain, causing Tatiana to cry more. 

 

What a mess. 

 

Johnny got up despite the impending onslaught, gunning straight towards Bela now that the ground was solid. 

 

So close, right there , he just had to-

 

Johnny face-planted hard, blood dripping onto the ground when he lifted himself. He felt his nose realign, a painful experience. He tried getting up, but his legs bent awkwardly before he tumbled to the ground once again.

 

“What the fuck-” 

 

Okay, no more Xhosa, but his legs looked like noodles? Where were his bones?

 

Johnny grunted, trying to ignore what he hoped was an illusion as he army-crawled his way to Bela. The others, still fending off so many bodies, couldn’t pay any mind to him. As horrible as it was that they had to deal with the onslaught, it made Johnny all the more undetectable to Bela.

 

His body felt so heavy. It was like the world was crushing him. If he was Ian or Thea, he’d be able to crawl through this with such strength and ease…

 

Johnny clung to the pen like his life depended on it. Bela was only a few feet away now, twirling around in a fit of laughter as she sent more waves of attacks at the rest of the group. He silently prayed that he’d be undetectable for just a little longer, at least to grab her by the leg and finally inject her.

 

Johnny heard Ian scream in what sounded like agony, whipping his head around with a gasp to see three bodies clawing at him violently, with everyone trying to pry the undead off of him. The bandages on his arm came undone, and they clawed at the amputation site, too.

 

His heart dropped. Johnny knew such an injury could be fatal if reopened. He hoped it wouldn’t get to that. 

 

The gasp was enough to re-alert Bela of Johnny’s whereabouts. With a simple movement of her eyes, Johnny was thrust upward, hitting the ceiling with terrible force. 

 

He tried to move, to squirm free, but he stuck to the ceiling. He felt like he’d been caught in a spider’s web. A black widow’s web.

 

His breath ran shallow as he witnessed Bela’s form rise off the ground, slowly approaching him.

 

Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe he could finally get this over with.

 

No, he couldn’t even fucking move his body. He was glued to the ceiling. No use.

 

Bela approached, now nose to nose with Johnny. 

 

“ Tag ,” she whispered with a growing grin. “ You’re it . ”

 

She stared into him, through him. He knew she still didn’t recognize him.

 

She probably didn’t even know who she was looking at. If she was looking at anything, that was.

 

Johnny watched as a wave of spikes flooded the ground below them, screaming. The spikes were so large, so clustered, but he couldn’t even turn his head enough to see if anyone was hurt. He heard yelling, but that was either confirmation that they were okay and scared, or that they had just been torn to shreds. 

 

Those same spikes began to fill the ceiling, and Johnny felt one go straight through his abdomen. He cried out in excruciating agony, blood pouring from where he’d just been impaled. 

 

Bela locked eyes with him once again, narrowing her gaze as her smile widened. His vision was hazy, he was struggling to keep his hold on the adrenaline shot. He hyperventilated terribly, chest sore from lack of oxygen. He knew his diaphragm had been compromised, the contractions weren’t strong enough to push the old air out of his lungs. He was effectively suffocating, and the foreign object pierced through him wasn’t allowing his healing to take effect. 

 

He was growing weaker. His hearing was fading, his vision kept clouding, his breathing grew ragged. Bela stood close, surely she sensed it, too. 

 

Gravity suddenly lost its extreme weight, and Johnny’s limbs dangled loosely toward the ground. He shakily fiddled with the pen, trying to be stable enough not to drop it.

 

He coughed. Blood dripped from his mouth, the taste of iron flooding his senses. 

 

“Bela,” Johnny strained. He lifted a weak hand to cup her face. Her expression stood unwavering, satisfied that she’d ‘tagged’ him. 

 

The others. His eyes darted towards them now that he was finally able to tilt his head.

 

Rowan was stuffing his outer shirt onto Ian’s amputated arm. There was a hole torn through his pant leg, he was limping on it, but he seemed intact. Ian himself seemed fine, too, save all the gashes the bodies had scratched onto him.

 

Tatiana was at Thea’s side, having weaved her way through the large spikes to get to her. Her bloodied hands trembled as she brushed the hair out of Thea’s face. Somewhere along the way, her bun had unraveled, and her hair was now an uneven mess. Welts decorated her arms, and what looked like melted skin dangled from a raw spot on her thigh. She must’ve gotten hit when the blood became acidic. She yelled in pain with every movement. Tatiana flinched every time. Somehow, Tatiana was untouched.

 

Johnny was startled as he began to slide down the spike impaling him. There must’ve been too much blood to keep him in place. 

 

Quick, shallow breaths. Bela laughed like a gentle hum, pressing her cheek into Johnny’s with a nuzzle. It wasn’t like her, being so quiet.

 

His hand was still on her face. The other.

 

The other.

 

Johnny struggled to lift his arm enough, hovering just near Bela’s shoulder. He pressed the pen against her upper arm gently, pressing down on it with a strained grunt. 

 

She gasped. The needle went through, thank God.

 

He held it there, afraid that letting go would somehow make the anesthetic fail, even though that wasn’t how it worked. Her eyelids fluttered, and the glowing neon blue dampened to its familiar hue. She wasn’t on a magic overload anymore.

 

Bela’s eyes rolled back, and she plummeted toward the ground.

 

Probably not the best idea to have done that midair.

 

The spikes around them faded instantly, and Johnny’s body followed Bela’s. He didn’t have the strength, nor the oxygen, to scream on the way down.

 

The last thing he saw was Bela hit the ground before his own consciousness was lost.

-

 

“Perhaps he died.”

 

“I hardly believe that’s how it works, Eli.”

 

“ Don’t. Call. Me. That. ”

 

“You’re such a wet blanket.”

 

-

Chapter 15: Fifteen

…

 

Bela couldn’t remember the last thing that happened to her…something about spikes? Johnny was there…

Her head pounded like a drum as each time she tried to recall what happened, a stabbing pain shot through her.

 

Where was she? The backrooms?

She felt her body lift up slightly as her vision was trying to adjust, twirling and spinning with colors as her eyes were pinned on focusing on who was in front of her. All she heard was hushed mumbling coming from someone

 

“——-she’s—-get rid of—-“

 

“—-it’s too——-she’s waking—“

 

Her eyes instantly readjusted and her eyes widened to see…

Two Rowan’s? No…she knew who they were

“Hiiii bitch~” Elias purred sasslily, his voice dripping with mockery right before he was delivered a hard smack to the back of his head.

 

“That’s not how we treat our guest, idiot!” Cirro snapped as he regained control of his voice 

 

“Welcome ———-~“ the world rolled off his tongue with a venomous flair

 

Bela could tell it was a curse—a harsh one at that. She quickly stood, her smile vanishing as she took in their prissy, self-important presence.

 

“Oh great, it’s you two<3” Her voice was dripping with disdain. Bela’s biggest annoyances were here in the flesh, their presence unmistakable.

 

Their eyes were filled with fury, their tails lashed through the air violently. Their once bright colors fumed a black hue as their energy casted eerie shadows across the room. 

 

This suffocating air of unbroken tension could make anyone buckle under its weight but she didn’t. Instead, a slow wicked smile grew upon her face, delighting in their visible comfort. They clearly felt threatened by her~

She tapped her heel rhythmically to the sound of her impatience growing, fueling the storm of anger even more.

 

“We brought you here to discuss-“ cirro Began to lecture her but was interrupted by Bela suddenly mocking him

 

“ LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOOUUUUU LALALA”

 

Cirro and Elias exchanged bewildered glances, wondering if she was okay(definitely not) her voice loud and boastful, her tone filled with childish defiance. Cirro's face was brewing with anger as he felt his patience was growing thinner with each taunt. It felt like she thought this was a game

“OKAY IF YOU’LL LET ME-“

 

“ LALALA MY NAME IS CIRRO AND I'M AN CLASS A TWINK!” Bela sang loudly as Cirro froze in place, utterly shocked. and a small, barely contained chuckle escaped from Elias, trying to mask it as he tried holding onto his serious facade

 

Bela eyes snapped towards Elias as she catches his slight amusement to her remark.

 

“Oh? Does a hot topic wannabe want to say something?” She cackled, her laughter turned unnatural as she kept laughing. 

 

both of the gods' hands violently twitched, ready to rip her apart starting with her mouth. They felt their power surged dangerously yet barely stopped themselves from tearing the universe apart from this to be brawl.

 

Cirro had enough of her antics and with a swift gesture, he suspended her in a yellow magic bubble, silencing her mid laugh. The bubble rippled like liquid gold as it hummed faintly with energy. cirro approached slowly, his footsteps contrasting with the dead white space. He definitely savored this silence~

“ As I was saying…“ he began, his voice thinly veiled with irritation “you know we’ve been watching your… interesting actions, as makes for a great reality tv show but,” he leaned slightly, his gaze sharpening, “we noticed you brought in our Rowan, hm?”

 

Through the bubble, Bela smiled Disturbingly delighted as her words were a bit muffled but still heard from the outside.

 

“Oh, him! such a cute one isn’t he~?” Bela cooed, clasping her hands to her cheeks

 

“Especially if you know how to break him mentally…” her lips curled into a wicked grin as her manic laughter stirred throughout the bubble, echoing back to the gods. 

 

Cirro and Elias glanced at each other, their eyebrows furrowing with disgust as she was definitely planning something with him.

 

Elias had his turn at interrogating this thing that claims this awful appearance. His boots slammed loudly towards Bela, summoning his sword with a flick of a wrist. 

 

His sword brewed with a dark aura, flickering with specks of black dust. Bela’s eyes slightly widened at the sight before she could react, he swiftly slashed the bubble sending her tumbling  onto the ground.

 

Elias lifted Bela’s chin with the tip of the sword, the cold metal grazing her skin, drawing a bit of blood. Bela’s expression twisted in annoyance, her eyes flashing with rage at the insult of being hurt like this

 

“Two can play that game, but we’re not going to hurt you…yet” his tone, low and dangerous, “We’ll deal with you later, and trust me—it won’t be pretty unless you start fixing that little playing behavior of yours." He smirked, savoring the threat as he pulled the blade away from her neck.

 

Bela grabbed her neck in panic, she winced at the type of blade he used as it sent burning sensations into her. She glared at Elias, seething with fury, sensing her control was slipping even for a moment.

 

Elias stepped backwards satisfied with his work towards cirro as both of them grabbed onto each other hips

 

“Just remember… he’s coming” Cirro spoke as he waved Bela bye childishly.

 

Cirro and Elias were instantly surrounded by a bright blinding light and faded away slowly, before disappearing, both of them raised the middle finger and smiled innocently, Bela was clearly shaking with anger but not until hearing…

 

“Fuck you belladona~”

 

Bela couldn’t find the words to express just how furious she was—no, fuming was more like it. if there was any furniture around her, it would be crackled and decimated in his radius. Her erratic movements resembled that of a monkey having a violent tantrum while a torrent of obscenities spilled from her mouth. Some so horrid that it’s not even been invented or used yet.

…

Her tantrum wasn’t pretty so let’s move on to where the rest on everyone is

After that harrowing game of monster tag, the group staggered back to the lab, their movements strained and uneasy; Tatiana and Thea, still wincing at their injuries, sanked down onto the metal chairs at the entrance of the lab, hissing in pain. Ian, his face etched with concern, carried Johnny's limp, unconscious form, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. He gently laid Johnny down on the operating table, his fingers brushing against Johnny's pale cheek with a touch of tenderness. 

 

Rowan, meanwhile, was burdened with the task of transporting Bela. He hesitated, reluctant to even touch her after the chaos they had endured. The horrific visions of dead bodies attacking him haunted his thoughts, causing him to shiver involuntarily. He was very close to dragging her by her nest of hair but he had some niceness in him.He struggled to maneuver Bela’s unresponsive, heavy form onto a makeshift bed

 

As Rowan looked down at Bela, he noticed a permanent scowl etched onto her features. The sight puzzled him, but he dismissed it quickly, anxious not to provoke her and choke him out. Rowan, still disorientated from the lingering effects of the medication Ian gave him before Rowan was under. His eyes scanned around the room to see the vast injuries they collected, his injury was evident enough. his pant leg was torn and bloodied, his skin marred with bruises and scratches. Yet, as he watched, the damage seemed to heal before his eyes, the wounds knitting themselves back together until his leg was whole again. 

 

Ian, observing Rowan’s miraculous recovery with a mixture of curiosity and concern, shifted slightly, rising from his seat to get a closer look. 

 

“You…can heal too?” Ian spoke, still weary from the emotional exhaustion and physical from bela’s antics.

 

Rowan turned to face Ian, his expression weary yet resigned. He sighed deeply and walked over to Ian.

“Our species is known for regenerative abilities,” Rowan began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of sadness. “Some of us heal slowly, while others, like myself, can regenerate almost instantly. It all depends on the specific makeup of our blood.”

 

As Rowan spoke, he deftly began to wrap a bandage around Ian’s injured arm, his movements precise as he had many injuries in his childhood he had to bandage himself.

 

 “In the past, people had a disturbing fascination with our abilities,” Rowan continued, his voice growing quieter. “They hunted us for our regenerative properties, capturing and selling us in black markets…” He trailed off, his eyes clouding with a shadow of painful memories. The room fell into a heavy silence, the gravity of Rowan’s words sinking in as the others exchanged worried glances, their expressions reflecting their unease and empathy.

 

“Oh! Didn’t mean to sour the mood haha." Rowan said, forcing a smile as he tried to lighten the atmosphere. “it was years ago— heck, they thought we were extinct based on how well we hide. Besides i'm 23 and perfectly—”

 

“YOU’RE 23??” Tatiana exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief as she leapt out of her chair. She’d assume he was teenager based on his height and questionable demeanor

 

Rowan's smile faltered, as he still held a grudge against her, his eyes filled with a bit of disdain. still remembering she was the one to put him in a coma. He turned his attention back to Ian’s arm, where the gauze was steadily soaking through with fresh blood from his injuries. Rowan knew something had to be done, and he was prepared to take drastic measures.

 

He ravaged through Johnny's drawers and pulled out a needle. Still trying to remember how Johnny did it while he was experimenting on him before. His grip shook but steadily stopped as he plunged it into his arm, his face displayed with grimace as he slowly extracted his blood

 

The others looked in shock as Rowan slowly dragged the plunger up, showing a reddish translucent substance coming out from him. As it reached the top of the needle, he sorrowfully remembered how he tried to do it to jasper that day . 

His wounds bleed profusely as no amount of magic could’ve solved his lover's grim fate… Rowan had to fight back tears recalling that traumatic scene as he finished drawing his liquid. He swiftly poured his blood into a vial he found and mixed it with other chemicals stored… somewhere on him. 

 

As Rowan completed the mixture, he looked up at the group with a twisted, almost malevolent smile. The concoction was now ready, and Rowan’s expression promised that whatever was coming next would be anything but ordinary. The others watched in stunned silence, their concern and confusion growing as Rowan prepared to unveil his unsettling creation.

 

“Who wants to go first?!” The way he smiled at saying that instilled a sense of dread into everyone. Rowan approached Ian as he squirmed trying to get away from this crazy mush.

 

“You better not put that on me!” ian would rather die than have that unknown substance touch him

 

Rowan didn’t care much for his hysterics, he was trying to help them for god sakes

 

“Do you want to feel better or not? Your scientist lover is currently unconscious." Rowan glanced at Johnny seeing his arm limply fall off the table. “ and I'm the only one you have!” Ian couldn’t disagree with him, Rowan did have some expertise(whether that be illegally) and helped him not bleed out back in the dungeon. He reluctantly closed his eyes as Rowan poured some on his hand and rubbed it on the wound. Tatiana and thea looked in disgust, looking away from this basement doctor work.

 

Ian shuddered at the uncomfortable soaked feeling but slowly felt his tension fade as he felt his body loosen and fill with a warm sensation. The wounds stitched together carefully and his arm was no longer bleeding. He opened his eyes in shock as it was mysteriously back to normal. He thanked Rowan with his eyes as he nodded in satisfaction. He looked at Johnny's body, seeing his color become paler as he had to hurry getting him hooked up. Rowan genuinely didn't know what he was doing, if only he had a medical textbook with him right now.

 

He just hooked random bands and taped cords onto Johnny, hoping it would work somehow as he placed an oxygen mask on his sullen face. Thankfully the beeps of the heart monitor were echoing in the room but its pace was concerningly slow but still alive. Rowan glanced onto the hole through his abdomen, hurrying to place the liquid onto the wound, he did gag at the sight of it but pushed through it. The bleeding suddenly stopped but it would take more than that to make him wake up. 

 

“We have to pray at this point..” he said, his voice sombered as looked at others. “he’ll recover… but it’s going to take awhile from that severe of a wound” he wished he would do more, angry at himself for making johnny annoyed with him, mistakes he made, he wanted to be…

Friends with him

Rowan felt the weight in his limbs, his body growing sluggish as he realized he had taken too much blood. He knew he was about to black out. With barely a moment to spare, he sealed the vial with a cork and tossed it to Tatiana, her expression flickering between confusion and alarm as she caught it.

“What’s this for?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“I’m going to sleep,” Rowan mumbled, his voice thick and unsteady, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he caught sight of Tati's irritated glare. “Pour it on yourself.”

Before she could respond, he staggered over to a chair, slumping into it with a tired groan. He rested his head against the cold, sterile surface of the operating table, mere inches from Johnny’s still form. As the haze of sleep overtook him, the world fading to black, faint whispers reached his ears—voices from someone… he… knew.

 

Rowan

 

Rowan

 

Wake up my love…

-

 

Blackness enveloped jasper’s eyes as he noticed he was closing them. Silly him.  He forced them open, blinking against the sight of a breathtaking sunset painted in hues of yellow and pink. Rolling hills of wheat and greenish-yellow grass cushioned his fall, soft beneath his body. He wasn’t dead—at least, not yet. But for the fifteenth time, the question echoed in his mind: where was he?

With a groan, Jasper rubbed his head, feeling the weight of grogginess lift ever so slightly as he sat up and took in the surreal landscape. It tugged at something deep within him, a memory of his childhood—endless fields of flora, the laughter of his younger self dancing in the air. It was a warm, happy memory, but Jasper knew better than to get lost in it.

Stretching his arms overhead, he stood up quickly, scanning his surroundings. His fingers brushed the cool breeze, and he found himself wondering if he was truly alive. The gods had never explained where he was in the blank space and what happened to his body. His musings were interrupted by a sudden ringing in his ears.

 

Startled, Jasper touched his ears and realized he was wearing a pair of earrings—one blue, the other yellow. They gleamed like diamonds, delicate and beautiful, swaying with every movement.

"Hello, hello! Cirro here!" A voice chimed from the yellow earring, flashing a bright gold light.

"Yo, it’s Elias," said another voice, this one from the blue earring, which shimmered in a cool sapphire glow.

Jasper stared, baffled. Why could he hear voices through his earrings? Questions surged through his mind, too many to process. Tentatively, he tried speaking aloud, hoping for answers.

"How can I hear you from... these?" Jasper asked, his brow furrowing as he tugged at the dangling earrings.

"Bluetooth earrings~! The invention of the future!" Cirro declared proudly, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Pretty neat, huh?"

Jasper blinked, completely lost. Bluetooth what? The term sounded alien to him, and his confusion was palpable, echoing in the silence that followed.

Cirro hesitated for a second, realizing his mistake. "Oh, right... it hasn't been invented yet," he muttered, scratching his head. "Uh, don’t worry about it! Just think of it as a magic device," he quickly reassured, trying to smooth over the bafflement in Jasper's expression.

Elias, who had been silent up to this point, left the explaining entirely to Cirro, apparently trusting his companion to handle the details.

Jasper just had to ask about his current state, he couldn’t take the suspense anymore

“You need to answer me,” he demanded. “where am i, what happened to me, and why am i here?”

A heavy silence followed. Cirro and Elias exchanged hushed murmurs, as if debating how to explain it. Their reluctance only heightened Jasper's tension.

Finally, the yellow earring glowed softly. "Elias will explain," Cirro said, his tone oddly subdued. "You're more closely related to him, after all."

A soft groan escaped from Elias, followed by a resigned sigh. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, clearly unwilling but without another choice. “I’ll start with your first question. You were… between life and death,” Elias began, his voice almost cautious. 

“Your parents cast a safety protocol on you using one of the most powerful magic spells we’ve ever encountered.”Jasper’s breath hitched, his mind reeling. 

He had been told about that once, long ago, but he had dismissed it as a lie, a fantastical story meant to comfort him. Yet here it was—real.

“The spell was so strong, I couldn’t even take you,” Elias continued, his voice tinged with something like admiration. “I’m impressed, honestly. They must’ve loved you more than I expected.”

Loved him? Pain flickered through Jasper’s chest. That word, love , felt foreign and bitter when he thought of her .

“ She didn’t, ” Jasper snapped, his voice laced with bitterness and barely-contained anger. “She never brought me anything but pain. This… this must’ve been someone else.” His temples throbbed as he clenched his fists, the painful memories of her clawing at the edges of his mind, memories he never wanted to revisit.

Elias was visibly startled by Jasper’s outburst, but he knew he had to push through it, to make Jasper understand.

“I don’t care what happened to her,” Elias declared firmly, his voice steady. Jasper’s head snapped up at the words, his eyes wide. “What matters is she loved you enough to give you another chance at life, and you’ll use that to save Rowan.”

Jasper froze. Alive? He was alive?

“I’m... alive?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the realization hitting him like a wave.

“Yes,” Elias confirmed, trying to keep his voice from wavering. “And we’re going to help you.” His words carried a sincerity that Jasper hadn’t expected.

“How though?” Jasper asked, his mind still reeling from the revelation.

An audible thud echoed from the earring as Cirro let out an exaggerated groan, elias pushed him to continue their findings

“We found Rowan’s energy signatures scattered in this area,” Cirro chimed in, his voice more casual, though still determined. “It’s faint, but hey, it’s a start, right?”

Jasper blinked, trying to process it all. Rowan’s energy, faint but traceable. His heart quickened with hope. Maybe… just maybe, there was a chance.

Jasper’s heart surged with hope, a warmth flooding through him at the thought of seeing Rowan again. His mind filled with visions of happiness—if he could just find his mush , everything would fall into place. But the dream was shattered by an unsettling realization.

He could see out of both eyes.

Startled, he raised a trembling hand to his right eye, the one he had long since accepted as lost. His fingers brushed against it, expecting the usual deadened, hazy feeling, but his vision remained crystal clear. The spacey colors were still there. His sight was… perfect.

“Why can I see out of my other eye?” Jasper asked, his voice filled with bewilderment, his heart pounding as he tried to comprehend what had changed in mere seconds.

Cirro’s smile widened, though there was something deeper behind it—something curious. “Your accident… how did it happen?” Cirro asked, his tone more thoughtful now, as if he already knew the answer but wanted to lead Jasper to it himself.

Jasper: 10 years old

The garden was alive with fluttering butterflies, their vibrant wings creating a kaleidoscope of colors that danced in the sunlight. The air carried the sweet scent of freshly baked pastries, blending with the soft hum of bees drifting lazily over the flowers. Jasper sat at the outdoor tea table with his parents, the scene serene and warm.

“Mother, may I pleaseeeee practice my magic? I got my wand, and I really want to test it out!” Jasper’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he clutched the wand in his small hand, practically bouncing in his seat.

His mother, Alice, hesitated, her brows furrowing in concern. “I don’t know… using it this early can be dangerous, right, hun?” she asked, her voice carrying a note of motherly caution as she looked to Jasper’s father for reassurance.

Wynn, casually glancing up from behind his newspaper, exhaled a puff of blue smoke from his pipe. “Ah, let the boy have some fun, huh?” he said with a grin, his eyes twinkling with nostalgia. “I remember getting my first wand... good memories.”

Jasper’s face lit up like the morning sun, unable to contain his joy as he started bouncing up and down. He fixed his gaze on his mother, his excitement bubbling over, waiting for her final approval.

With a sigh, Alice relented. “Fine, fine,” she said, bending down to ruffle his short, messy black hair. “Just be careful, my little Nova.”

That was all the assurance Jasper needed. With a bright, beaming smile, he darted away from the table and sprinted toward the forest, eager to try out his magic spells. The sound of his laughter echoed in the distance as he disappeared among the trees, the weight of his parents’ love and trust carrying him forward.

Jasper lifted his black wand, the tip slightly curled, a perfect conduit for the energy he could feel tingling in his fingertips. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating, then pointed the wand toward the ground, his voice filled with excitement as he recited the spell he remembered from class.

“ Waterus magicus! ”

Instantly, a small puddle of water appeared on the grass before him. Jasper’s eyes went wide with delight, a giggle bubbling up from his chest as he marveled at his newfound power. His first real spell had worked!

"Another one!" he exclaimed, the thrill of magic surging through him.

Turning toward a tall oak tree nearby, he gripped his wand tighter, focusing even harder. “ Fluffus magicus! ” he shouted, his voice ringing with confidence.

With a sudden flick of his wrist, the solid bark of the oak shimmered before his eyes, transforming into something impossibly soft. The once-rough surface of the tree had turned into something fluffy—like the fur of a bunny. Jasper twirled in pure happiness, overwhelmed by the joy of his success.

He couldn’t wait to run back and show his parents what he had done. His mind raced with how proud they would be, especially his mother, who had been so worried. He'd show them he could handle magic just fine.

As Jasper prepared for his next spell, a strange voice slithered into his thoughts, low and sickly sweet.

"Hey~ I know a magic spell that makes you the king of the wizards~" it whispered, the words seeping into his consciousness like a tempting melody.

Jasper froze, whipping around to find the source, but the forest was empty. His heart quickened. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice rising defensively as he scanned the trees for a figure, but nothing stirred.

The voice chuckled, a soft, unsettling sound. “No matter who I am,” it cooed, the sweetness in its tone nearly nauseating. “The real question is—do you want to be the next head of the Magic Council?”

Jasper’s body tensed, but his heart leaped at the mention of the Magic Council. It had been his dream for as long as he could remember—to lead the frontline of magic defenses, to be the greatest wizard of his generation. His hesitation melted away, and a bright, eager smile spread across his face.

“Please, please tell me how!” he pleaded, practically bouncing with excitement. His one true goal felt within reach, and nothing else mattered in that moment.

The voice softened, almost like a lullaby. “All you must say is… Repello inimicum .”

Jasper’s excitement momentarily caused him to fumble the words, but he steadied himself, repeating the incantation with determination.

“ Repello… inimicum! ”

It took him a few whisperings of the word for him to pronounce it correctly.

“ R-Repello inimicum !” Jasper stammered, gripping his wand tightly as its tip briefly flared with light—only to fizzle out moments later.

Confused, Jasper examined the wand, checking the tip as if it had somehow broken. Before he could make sense of it, a thick, swirling cloud of black smoke began pouring from the wand. It sputtered violently, spewing bursts of flickering magic. Jasper barely had time to gasp before a sudden explosion of raw magic engulfed him, hurling him backward onto the ground.

In the distance, his parents noticed the billowing smoke rising from the woods. Panic surged through them, but by the time they arrived, it was too late.

The doctors did everything they could, but even they were left baffled. They tried to ask Jasper what spell he had used, but each time he opened his mouth to respond, only a garbled mess of sounds escaped him, as if the words themselves had been cursed. Unable to understand the nature of the spell or the curse, they could only guess at what had gone wrong.

Jasper was left with a permanent reminder of that day. His eye, now damaged beyond repair, forced him to wear an eyepatch for months, and the sight in it never returned. The despair gnawed at him, knowing that his chances of joining the Magic Council—his greatest dream—were now impossibly out of reach. His future had darkened as swiftly as the smoke that had surrounded him that fateful day.

Back to the present

 

The memory of that day weighed heavily on Jasper, and just recalling it made a deep pit form in his stomach. He could feel his heart sinking as he finished recounting the traumatic experience to Cirro and Elias. The silence that followed was thick with the weight of it all.

Cirro broke the silence, his voice gentler now. "You basically had a pool of mana flowing through your eye back then," he began. "But your body… Well, it was too fragile to handle it. That’s why your magic ability was capped."

Jasper’s breath caught in his throat. All these years, he had never known the full truth. The curse, the loss of his eye—there had never been an explanation. And now, after so long, an answer was finally being given to him. He felt like he could cry, though a part of him still didn’t understand what his eye had to do with it all.

“And as for your eye,” Cirro continued, now sounding slightly sheepish, “I… um, I released some of that stored mana while—well, while I kissed your face.”

Jasper blinked, startled by the confession. “You what?”

Cirro cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah, so, with that extra mana released, you should be able to use magic without relying on your wand anymore.”

Jasper slowly lifted his hands, staring down at them in disbelief. His palms crackled with energy, tiny sparks of magic dancing across his fingers, flowing with a power that felt new and familiar all at once. He could feel it—the magic inside him, unbound. For the first time in years, he felt whole again.

He smiled softly, a glimmer of hope flickering in his heart. Even if he could never be on the Magic Council, even if his old dreams were out of reach, he still had a new purpose. If he could bring his lover, Rowan, back… that would be enough.

 

The conversation gradually faded into a peaceful silence, the only sounds being the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of night creatures. Jasper sat quietly, watching the vibrant yellows of the sunset shift into a serene, muted blue as twilight settled over the forest.

“You should get some rest,” Cirro’s voice broke the calm, his tone gently insistent. “We have a big day tomorrow, and you’ll need all the energy you can get!” The yellow earring’s glow softened as Cirro wished Jasper goodnight.

Elias, too, echoed the sentiment, and the blue earring’s light dimmed to its usual hue. With their voices fading into the night, Jasper lay down on the cool grass, the soft breeze brushing against his skin. He inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill his lungs, and closed his eyes.

For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of peace, untroubled by the darkness of his past or the uncertainties of his future. At last, he wasn’t afraid of sleeping, knowing he’ll get rowan back as he flowed into dreamland.

 

But…his dreams were going to take a turn as his newfound magic turned into new abilities.

-

Jasper slowly opened his eyes to see…he was in the abyss again? No it was just a vast white space, not eerie like where he was. He stepped cautiously, his steps echoing in the emptiness as looking for a sign of life. Was this a dream? He thought as he spotted someone in the distance

As he ventured further, he spotted a figure in the distance. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the shape, the hair, the familiar colors. The figure…

 looked exactly like Rowan.

“ROWAN!” Jasper shouted, his voice filled with both desperation and joy. He sprinted forward, his long legs carrying him swiftly across the void. When he reached Rowan, he picked him up, spinning him around in sheer exhilaration. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with his smiles. Even if this was just a dream, he longed to feel Rowan’s presence once more.

But Rowan’s reaction was not what Jasper had hoped for. Rowan’s eyes widened in horror as he pushed Jasper away, stumbling back. His face was etched with confusion and fear, his body trembling as tears began to slip down his own cheeks.

“This is a hallucination… yes! He’s dead, he must be,” Rowan muttered, his voice shaking as he struggled to reconcile the sight before him with his grim reality. His eyes were glazed, distant, as if he were trying to convince himself that Jasper was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

Jasper’s heart ached at Rowan’s pain and disbelief. He needed to prove to Rowan that he was real, that this wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. But how could he convince Rowan, who was so engulfed in his own suffering, that he was standing right in front of him?

 

Jasper suddenly got an idea but it's a weird one

 

“I saw you got forced to take a bath from that woman,” Jasper said, his voice carrying a mix of urgency and familiarity. Rowan’s eyes widened in shock, and he shot up from where he had been sitting, his face flushed with embarrassment. Yet, he remained skeptical.

“I know you have my engagement ring,” Jasper continued, inching closer to Rowan, his heart pounding with hope. “And Cirro and Elias—do those names ring a bell?”

Rowan’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. How could Jasper possibly know those names? Jasper bent down to Rowan’s eye level, his gaze pleading.

 

“Please, my mush,” Jasper said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “I saw all those awful things happen to you. I swore to myself that I would save you… I’m sorry I’m late.”

Rowan’s eyes were filled with a storm of emotions—hesitation, confusion, and a deep, aching desire. The sight of Jasper, the mention of intimate details, and the raw sincerity in his voice began to break through the haze of Rowan’s despair.

Though a part of him was still uncertain, Rowan felt a deep, undeniable pull toward Jasper. Even if this was just a dream, he longed to feel the connection they once had. His heart ached for one last touch, one last kiss.

 

He lifted Rowan effortlessly into his arms, cradling him in a bridal style. As their faces were close, he gently bumped heads with Rowan, their lips finding each other once more in a kiss that crackled with intense, electric connection.

The kiss started tenderly but quickly deepened, becoming more passionate and desperate as their longing for each other intensified. Rowan’s fingers brushed through Jasper’s hair, his touch both soothing and urgent, as if he needed to ground himself in this moment of reunion. The kiss grew sloppy, the raw need for contact and reassurance overcoming any restraint they might have had.

Jasper sensually nipped at Rowan's neck as he moaned slightly at his lover’s roughness. Rowan adored his devotion to him as did jasper. They were always so close before this happened but at this moment, they wanted to stay in this position forever.

Back at the lab

Tatiana and thea wounds were finally healing from Rowan's homemade concoction as they kept an eye on Johnny's recovery. Tati’s eye shifted its focus as she heard some muffled giggling coming from Rowan as she noticed he was…

 

“Why is he making out with the table…?” tati whispered to thea as she nudged her to look at him. Thea, who was obviously confused at this question, stared at his body and noticed the specific motions he was making.

 

Both of them slowly glanced at ian to see the insanity happening in front of them but he was too focused watching johnny and couldn’t care less after he saved him.

Dreamscape

Both of their lips slowly cut contact as their eyes were filled with love and maybe a little lust. Jasper could’ve lunged at him but he should keep that for when he finds him. 

 

Rowan gazed up at Jasper, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and desperation. “Please… please find me, okay?” he said, his voice trembling. He clung to the fragile thread of hope that they might have more moments like this in the real world, where their wedding could actually happen

Jasper was about to reassure Rowan that he would do everything in his power to find him and make their reunion possible. But before he could finish his promise, a chilling cackle echoed through the white expanse.

 

“Sorry, lovebirds~ that won’t be happening!” The voice was taunting, filled with a malevolent glee. Bela emerged from the shadows, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement as she approached them. Her presence was a stark contrast to the tender moment Jasper and Rowan were sharing.

“I need to keep my friends in a trio forever if you don't mind,” Bela said with a wicked smile, her long, sharp nails dragging across Jasper’s abdomen. The touch was cold and invasive, pulling Jasper out of his protective embrace with Rowan.

Jasper instinctively shielded Rowan, placing himself between Bela and his beloved. He swatted Bela’s hand away, his protective instincts flaring. “Stay away from him!” Jasper’s voice was fierce, a mix of anger and fear for Rowan’s safety.

Bela's grin widened, her eyes glinting with dark satisfaction. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You know how these things go. I can’t let you just waltz off with him.”

Jasper’s heart raced as he tried to think of a way to protect Rowan and confront Bela. The peaceful, dreamlike setting was rapidly turning into a nightmare, and he knew he had to act quickly to prevent losing Rowan once again.

Jasper’s smirk was a defiant challenge, his resolve hardening as he faced Bela. “Not if I find him first,” he said, his voice laced with determination.

Bela’s eyes widened in surprise, but her expression quickly shifted to one of wicked delight. A broad smile spread across her face, her eyes sparkling with malicious intent.

“Oh, how delightful!” Bela’s voice was dripping with amusement. 

“Shall we…make it a game?”

Chapter 16: Sixteen

—

 

Jasper’s vision went dark quickly, when he reoriented himself he was placed in the palace hovering over top of a sleeping Bela. She was groaning in her sleep and seemed to be exhibiting signs of a possible seizure. 

 

He could see a dark tear leak from her closed eye, it dripped unnaturally onto the metal table beneath her and seemed to burn into the metal. Little whispers emanated from  the slowly forming puddle by her face. 

 

Jasper could tell no one else had noticed her yet, he stepped closer and watched as on the floor where her body cast a shadow multiple eyes opened and blinked up at him. They seemed to be glaring at him and winding closer to the unconscious woman. 

 

“Aren't we playing a game? Why are you just standing around?” The eyes asked him, all at once it came into painful clarity.

 

Possession.

 

And clearly an unnatural one at that, this didn't seem like any demon he had ever heard about, but it could explain her erratic and dangerous behaviors for the past day. It was likely the creature had been biding its time, waiting to strike and her meltdown had simply accelerated its approach to her vulnerable mind. 

 

Casting his gaze around he could see Rowan’s sleeping form nearby, on a metal table. He seemed to be slowly stirring to consciousness. A good sign, the sooner he was out of the dreamscape the sooner Jasper could get to him. And the sooner he’d be safe from whatever creature was inhabiting the older woman. 

 

Jasper reacted quick when he noticed the shadowy eyes trailing closer to Rowan, still imitating the skipping form of Bela. He grasped for the shadows and yelped when his hand went through it, soon followed by his body as he fell through a dark and deep puddle. 

 

Bela remained shaking and twitching on the operating table, covered in blood and crying a strange black fluid. 

 

Still, nobody noticed. 

 

—

 

Jasper tumbled through a maze of eyes and smiles, it mimicked the form of a ruined parlor. Half of the roof was blown out and glass crunched under every step he took. Nearby he could hear sobbing, it sounded like a woman. He feared it would be Bela, but he hoped it was her at the same time. 

 

If he could just reach her, fix her, then maybe he could save Rowan. Maybe she could give him a way to get back home. Afterall, she had unimaginable power, even now he could sense it. Her energy was strange but with his increased mana he could sense two energies now instead of one twisted one. 

 

The first energy was bright, it smelled like ozone and raindrops, and he could feel a faint sense of something like home. 

 

The other energy was ravenous, hungry, and Jasper felt the urge to rip apart everything in order to reach that blinding bright light. Wait, what light? 

 

Jasper shocked himself from his thoughts with a quickly muttered spell, that creature had almost latched onto him. How, he didn't know, but either way he could see how easily it would get to Bela. Afterall, her mind was much too broken to sense such a creature. 

 

Creeping forward he came across the shaking form of a young woman, she had stark black hair in dusted ringlets. Her face was buried in her long, torn argyle skirts and she was wearing a dark and thick sweater of wool. When she heard his approach she flinched and sobbed harder, her words were foreign to him. A completely different language. 

 

“Me zalav, me zalav, Mama, Papa, Surata…” She muttered the same words over and over until they slurred together like one long chain of guilt. Creeping closer Jasper sat himself carefully by her and examined the woman further when she didn't move. 

 

Hidden by her folded arms and tucked up knees was a collar and a chain made of a dark and dripping substance and decorated with eyes of all shapes and sizes. The eyes had yet to notice him, all too focused on whispering nasty words into the young girl’s ears. 

 

“It's your fault.”

 

“You did this.”

 

“You're a monster.” 

 

“They will never forgive you.”

 

“Belladonna.”

 

Jasper barely contained his reaction at the confirmation that this sobbing wreck before him was the same woman who had threatened him earlier, or at least the same body he supposed. He focused on the chain and saw it stretch into the distance leading to a pike right in the heart of a body.

 

The body was an older woman, dark skinned with curled hair of brunette ringlets. She was wearing a dark velvet dress with a golden belt and a veil of dark cloth lay by her side, her face was uncovered and her lifeless gaze was locked on Belladonna’s shaking and shivering form. 

 

Jasper considered the gruesome scene with meticulous scrutiny, the pike. He had to get rid of the pike, the chain would surely follow. At least, he hoped it would. Rising slowly he found his footsteps were covered by the sounds of the girls sobbing. 

 

He approached the pike and found the eyes had still avoided him, the chain dripped steadily onto the floor of broken glass. It covered the faces of a mutilated family portrait too. He couldn't tell who was who in it, a shame, maybe if this didn't work he could have used it as a way to reach Belladonna. Or to blackmail her, after all she still seemed to have a little bit of control, maybe enough for him to get Rowan and ditch everyone to their fates. 

 

No, he couldn't do that. It would be an easy solution, a quick one for sure. But the guilt would follow him, the uncertainty of what he might have left everyone to deal with. Steeling his nerves he reached for the pike and muttered a quick incantation under his breath.

 

Thankfully he remembered the spell for this. But as his hands touched the pike he realized something…

 

He had never learned the spell he had said, he had never learned it at all. And when he looked up he saw the girls eyes on him, dripping black tears like a fucked up version of ruined mascera. 

 

Her brown iris remained untouched by the void of darkness and she looked at him mournfully. 

 

“I just want to sleep.” 

 

And with those words the room exploded in a bright white light, he could hear the eyes screeching and yelling, the pike disintegrating beneath his hold, and an untold power rushing through him. Brown hands encased his wrists, decorated with ruined white lace gloves. 

 

Bela was behind him, channeling her magic through him. Jasper closed his eyes as the bright light grew, the hands were gentle from where they grabbed him and she hummed a soft lullaby under her breath in his ear. 

 

“I'm sorry. ” She said and then the hands released him. 

 

When Jasper opened his eyes again Bela was gone, and he was back in a white void of nothingness. He looked down at his hands, in them was a note.

 

Here’s a quick spell if you ever want to chat! - Belladonna Dumitrescu

 

—

 

Bela’s body stopped its shaking, the tears disappeared like smoke, they rose from her face and vanished in the air of the lab. She groaned again, weakly. This time she was heard. Thea rushed forward, her healing had already taken hold and fixed her injuries. 

 

Thea reached a shaking hand towards her wife and let it rest on the apple of her cheek. Bela leaned into the touch and smiled weakly. When she opened her eyes they were brown with blue and glowing pupils. Thea hadn’t seen her eyes like that for years, not since their childhood. Before the possession, before the switch. Before it all. 

 

Bela’s eyebrows scrunched and her soft smile turned into a slight pout of confusion. She held a brief glimmer of recognition in her eyes but that soon faded as she took in Thea’s appearance. Thea watched with ice flooding her veins, surely this didn't mean what she was thinking, this couldn't have happened, they were so happy before and a meltdown ruined it all? 

 

“Thea?” Bela groaned, Thea brought her other hand up to Bela’s cheek and cupped her face gently.

 

“Yeah, agapi mu. It's me. I'm here, my wife.” Bela leaned into her touch but her look of confusion only grew.

 

“Wife?” 

 

—

 

Thea stared desperately at Bela, clutching her face gently. 

 

“You don't remember?” 

 

“Remember what?”

 

“Our wedding!” 

 

Behind them the others startled and stirred, looking at the couple in concern. Tatiana rose shakily and walked over in slow steps, an apology ready on her tongue. 

 

She was stopped by Bela sitting up and moving away from Thea’s reaching hands.

 

“A wedding? I think I’d remember that. Besides last I checked you were dead.” Thea froze at that, her face full of distress and she backed away slowly before turning and leaving from the room in a hurry. Tatiana watched her before turning to her twin in alarm. 

 

“Bela…” 

 

“Tati?” 

 

“You remember me?” 

 

“You remember me?! ” She was clearly surprised by this turn of events, Tatiana watched her in slowly dawning horror. First she caused her little sister to break down so badly she nearly killed everyone and now her sister didn't even remember her? She stumbled forward and reached out to Bela with a shaking hand and brought their foreheads together. Gazing into her eyes she looked desperately for any sort of recognition and watched with apprehension as tears welled and fell in paper tin streams down her sister’s face. 

 

“Did it work then?” She asked, Tatiana pressed their foreheads together harder, her hands ruffled her sister’s curls and she tried her best to ignore the metallic stench of blood surrounding them. Behind her she could hear someone approach and another person voice their alarm. She ignored it. 

 

“Bela. Please say you remember me.” 

 

“I remember your death.” Tatiana sobbed and dropped her face down into the bloodied collar of Bela’s dress. Her pearl necklace was gone. Her tears soaked the white and bloody fabric of the dress and Bela blinked rapidly in confusion. Tatiana could hear her speaking to someone in alarm, but Tatiana was too focused on how she didn't hug her back. 

 

Hands grabbed at Tatiana, and pulled her away from her broken sister. She fought them, they were stronger though and she was carted away, sobbing and screaming for her sister’s shivering and lonely figure. 

 

—

 

Johnny stepped forward, he felt the stinging pain of where his wound used to be for a fleeting second before his regenerative abilities kicked in. Bela sat before him looking around in confusion with a teary face. Her eyes were different. They weren't blue. Was that natural? 

 

He had never seen her eyes dark like this before, except with Void. But back when it possessed her, her eyes had been pitch black. Now her eyes were brown, like a rich oak wood. Her glowing and familiar blue pupils cast glances around the room. She looked at him desperate for answers. 

 

“Johnny, where are we?” 

 

It was a question he had been desperate for her not to ask. He knew she usually had amnesia after her episodes but to have it this bad, to not recognize the place they had spent the last few months together? It worried him immensely. 

 

“What's the last thing you remember?” Bela wiped the tears from her eyes and realized she didn't have gloves on, she couldnt find it in herself to care anymore though. She couldn't hide how bloodstained they were. She never could. The blood would always haunt her. 

 

“I remember having tea with Morana. But after that it's all-” She cut off and glanced around the room again. 

 

“Wait, did we do it? Did we get to the other dimension?” Johnny nodded his assent and watched as Bela brightened up, her tears no longer mattering to her.

 

“That's great! But uh one question,” She gestured to her bloody outfit,” why am I covered in blood and why did that other Thea say we were married?” 

 

“Bela. Listen to me, carefully. No interruptions please, this is important for you to know.”

 

Bela nodded and cocked her head, an innocent smile on her bloodied and tearstained face. Johnny hated that he’d have to break her peace like this. But he’d never seen her be in a state like this before and it made him nervous, he was entirely at a loss of what to do.

 

“We came here months ago, in that time you married Thea like you wanted to in your original dimension. Your family lives here, so does your sister. In this world you had died in a battle, when we arrived here we took the place of our dead selves and lied to everyone saying that we had simply been switched out right before our deaths. They didn't know of our dimensional differences. Along with this we picked up a new person to join our group by your insistence. A man named Rowan. He’s over there on the operation table. As for why you're covered in blood, you recently had a meltdown during which you slaughtered everyone in the dungeons.” 

 

As Johnny spoke he paced rapidly before Bela who watched him with an unwavering smile, despite the anguish visible in her eyes. As it built her eyes flashed and the emotion suddenly disappeared. She continued smiling and kicking her feet. Johnny turned to face her, ready for tears but not expecting the smile on her face.

 

“Come here real quick?” She asked, Johnny approached her knowing she meant no harm. She reached out quickly like a viper when he was close enough and brought their foreheads together. 

 

“I think I know what happened. Let me show you.” 

 

—-

 

Thea collected herself in the bathroom of her and her wife- her and Bela’s shared chambers. Johnny had told them of a possibility of amnesia after her episode when they all met up but to this extent? She almost started crying again at the thought of the confusion in her wife’s eyes. 

 

Looking into the mirror she was met with the sight of a tearstained excuse for a Queen. She felt ashamed of herself for breaking so easily. Taking in a deep breath she pulled back from where she had been leaning on the sink. She had to go back to the lab. She had to talk to Bela again. 

 

She had her suspicions of Bela being different but knowing that Bela had seen her die after she was switched? It almost made her break the mirror she was looking into. She never wanted her wife to suffer pain like that again. Not on her watch. Not with her heart still beating. Not with her back being able to shield Bela from any blows. 

 

Steeling herself once more she found her composure and gathered all her tears forcing them back and away. Then she cleaned her face meticulously and rushed out of her chambers. It was time to talk to Bela. Maybe she could jog her memory by talking about their time together? 

 

—-

 

Tatiana rushed down the halls, her parents at her side. They all desperately wanted to find and apologize to Bela for their actions, even if she didn't remember them. The whole family felt terribly guilty for the treatment of their youngest. Tatiana kept what Bela had said to her a secret however. Her parents remained clueless of what Taian was sure was the truth.

 

In her younger years she had spent much time reading about alternate dimensions. She was almost a hundred percent sure that Bela was from a dimension in which their deaths had been switched. At first she wanted to be angry at her for taking Belladonna’s place but she couldn't bring herself to feel any rage. Only sorrow and pity, grief and guilt. 

 

If she was in Bela’s shoes, if she had known to find a different world in which she had died instead of Bela, she was sure she would have done the exact same thing that Bela had done. She would have done it and felt no guilt. She would have done it just to see Bela smile, to hear her laugh once more. To greet her and be greeted back in turn by a large and warm hug. To be dealt with the annoyance of her sister stealing her drink and foods without telling her. Just to have her little sister back with her. 

 

She rushed ahead of her parents and ignored Thea turning the corner ahead of her, she quickly threw open the lab doors and ran to her sister. Beside her lay Johnny who was sitting and at her side with his head pillowed on her shoulder. He looked peaceful and Tatiana almost didn't want to disturb the two, but she found herself desperate to talk to Bela. 

 

“Bela.” 

 

“ Shhhh. Come here.” Tatiana moved forward, she brought their foreheads together again. A symbol of comfort from their childhood. And she hugged Bela, this time Bela hugged back. 

 

“Let me show you something?” Tatiana opened her mouth to respond but she never got the chance her vision was already going dark. 

 

—

 

Tatiana opened her eyes to Bela’s childhood bedroom. The room that had been closed off for years after her death. It was covered with various drapes and curtains hanging from the ceilings and walls. There was a bookshelf in front of Tatiana and she could see golden slips of paper peeking out from a few of the heavy tomes. 

 

She turned around at the sound of Bela’s voice. Behind her Bela sat at the vanity brushing her long curls. She rushed forwards towards her sister, but then she hesitated. Bela was wearing a totally different outfit, and even her eyes looked different. Completely brown with a normal black pupil. 

 

Bela looked up in the mirror and saw Tatiana’s hesitant reflection hovering behind her, placing her brush down. She turned around in the vanity chair and looked at Tatiana. A gentle smile was playing on her painted lips, which held the same color as the silk robe she was wearing. 

 

“Took you lot long enough.” Tatiana startled and turned around, what did she mean by you lot? Wasn't Tatiana the only other person here? When she turned she was met with the sight of six others. 

 

Rowan was sprawled across the thick sheets of Bela’s bed, still asleep. Her parents were standing by the bookshelf, startled by the sound of Bela’s voice. Ian was walking his way over to the other side of the room where Johnny sat, holding a golden piece of paper and studying it feverishly. Thea was standing almost directly behind Tatiana, looking around in visible confusion. 

 

Seeing as no one else was going to speak first, too confused with where they were, tatiana took it upon herself. 

 

“Bela, where are we? I know you didn't just transport everyone back to our home, I saw Johnny asleep by you.” Bela smiled and tilted her head gently as though she was turning them around in her mind. 

 

“Well first thing first, introductions.” Tatiana wavered at this, introductions? They all knew each other, why did they need introductions. Bela stood up from the vanity and walked over to the door which was hidden by the thick drapes and curtains. 

 

“I,” She gestured to herself with a large sweeping hand,” am Sanity.” Tatiana almost laughed at her and asked her what joke she was playing by calling herself that until she heard what Bela had to say next. 

 

“And you,” She pointed to the collected group,” are in Belladonna’s mind.” 

 

—

 Thea sat heavily on the bed besides a now awake Rowan as she processed the information Sanity had fed them. 

 

“Alright so, just to get everything straight.” She sighed heavily and placed her forehead in her hands. Rowan sat beside her and cast a side eye at the much larger woman. She ignored it. 

 

“Were in Bela’s mind because she wanted to show us what happened and this,” She swept her arms out to the room around them, “was the only way?” Sanity nodded.

 

“Yeah, basically.” Thea sighed again and dropped her face into her hands. 

 

“What did she want to show us?” Rowan asked hesitantly, he still didn't trust Bela after all. She didn't even ask him if he wanted to be here. He just fell asleep and suddenly he was waking up to Tatiana shaking him gently. 

 

“Follow me.” was all Sanity said as she led them to the large bookshelf wall in the room. She pulled a golden slip of paper out and handed it to Thea. Thea carefully held the paper and watched as shimmering words slowly appeared in swirling cursive on the page. 

 

“Read these and then I’ll take you to the next room,” Sanity paused,”or well, she'll take you to the next room.” She moved back to the vanity and went back to brushing her hair. Thea sensed that no matter how much they bothered her she wouldn't speak to them again. Clearly Rowan did not sense this as he moved forward and tugged at her sleeve. 

 

“Why should we read these? What are they? C'mon tell me, I'm curious.” Sanity sighed after a time of his bothering her and poking her cheek with her fingers. 

 

“Think of them as diary entries. They'll give you a bit of an idea of what you'll see today. What she wanted to show you and all that.” With that the room went dark, all the candles snuffing out, when they lit up again Sanity was gone. Rowan huffed in annoyance.

 

“What is with this woman and her disappearing tricks?” Thea had to hold herself back from swatting him over the head and instead clenched the paper tightly and began to read. Curiously she noticed Johnny had already finished reading the paper and was now talking to Ian, she couldn't hear what he was saying though. 

 

Shaking her head she turned her attention back to the paper and began to read. 

 

-

Belladonna Sept. 23rd 2011

 

Tatiana and I got caught moonlighting as Phantasm and TimeStop by our parents. They were super unhappy with it. They grounded us which is unfair in my humble opinion but now they're also forcing us to join a team of superheroes our age. Something about needing supervision and role models. They're also making Aunt Lydia watch over us when we join. I feel like im on house arrest. 

-

 

Thea smiled at the note, it was just so like her. She missed Bela terribly then, her heart lurched painfully at the memory of her confusion. She had to hope she could find a reason for it through this, maybe that's what Bela wanted to show her. She hoped it was. 

 

-

 

Belladonna  July 16th  2013

 

Thea asked me out on a date! I'm so happy, especially since our first date will be on my birthday too. What a wonderful present! Besides, I've been crushing on her for years at this point but I'd always been too scared to say anything to her. She just so- AUGH! I can't even write it, how embarrassing. Anyway Tati is surely happy about this, maybe even more so than me, because this means I won't be gushing to her about Thea every five seconds. Or so she says. Just for that I’m gonna have to steal her new hoodie. Mine now. 

 

-

 

Thea laughed a little at this, she was glad Bela had been as happy as she was over them getting together. The brief memory of her bringing some black dahlias to Bela for their first date crossed her mind. She vowed to get Bela some more black dahlias once they were done today. Or maybe she’d get her some carnations? Bela seemed to prefer those now after all. She didn't know why though, black dahlias used to be her favorite. 

 

-

 

Belladonna  July 19th  2013 

 

Thea’s dead. Or so they say. They said she got killed on our first date, on my birthday. What a horrible joke right? I refuse to believe them, and they refuse to let me see her body. So surely, surely this means she's alive. Maybe she got sick of me. Maybe she never existed. I can't decide which would be worse. 

 

-

 

Thea paused, she died? But that would mean- she shook her head again. So their worlds were flipped then. Sanity had already cleared up the whole thing about her being from another dimension. Thea had already had her brief crisis over it, after all, she couldn't blame Bela. And she had fallen for this new Bela hard. Thea however was surprised that her parents and Tatiana took it as well as they did. Though they did seem to be harboring an extreme guilt. Thea didn’t know why they would though. It was strange. She'd have to talk to them later for sure.  

 

-

 

—---------------------

 

Tatiana’s dead. She was ripped to shreds in front of me. Like paper. But paper doesn't bleed. My parents keep saying it wasn't my fault. I know they blame me though, I know I do too. After all, if I hadn't been there then she’d surely live. Maybe it's best if I just- maybe I should be here at all. That could fix everything right? 

 

-

 

Thea paused, Tatiana died too? Gods, what had Bela gone through. They only had to suffer the death of Bela and her cousin. But Bela had to lose her and tatiana. Thea wanted nothing more than to find her and hug her. She desperately needed to comfort her wife. Her magical wife with a grin that could blind going through this grief seemed impossible but if anyone could hide such a pain with a smile it would be Bela. 

 

-

 

—-----------------------

 

Aramand, Kate, Carmen. 

 

The demon found them, ripped them to shreds. Blood, guts, the whole shebang. They got turned into confetti. I always loved confetti, so bright and colorful. Confetti isn't as fun though when it's made of your friends. 

Apparently it had been trying to get my powers, it called itself Void. I didn't listen to the rest of its speech. I killed it, I think. I don't remember much. I just remember laughing. 

They tried to shield me, keep me safe from it. It worked, but they should have put themselves first. I'm not worth it, not worth it at all. 

Kate had a gun left in our hotel room, maybe-

 

-

 

The paper was covered in bloody fingerprints and tear stains. Thea felt terrible, horrified and she wanted to punch something. Preferably this Void creature until it stopped moving. Surely Bela didn't try what she thought she would. Surely she didn't take that gun and actually attempt it. Not her, not her Bela. 

 

-

 

—-----------------

 

I went home. It's made of dust now. The whole house collapsed. My family was inside. They never made it outside. I heard them die. Not just their cries but their thoughts. I watched life fade from their eyes. Mama crawled towards me as she bled out, she said it wasn't my fault. We both know it was a lie though. It was like a twisted game of Jenga. I guess I lost. Thats funny though, I don't remember asking to play. Maybe I should start the game next time, that way I can't lose. 

 

-

 

Thea felt tears drip down her face, they disappeared almost as quickly as they came. Blue magic stopped them from falling. Bela still tried her best to keep her happy, Thea mourned the fact that she didn't put the same effort towards herself. 

 

-

 

My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. 

-

 

The next note was worse. 

 

-

 

I tried the gun again, it shot out confetti. The sight made me cry but I couldn't stop laughing too. How strange is that? How funny is that? 

 

-

 

Thea could see why Bela acted the way she did now, she could understand her meltdown. She cursed herself for pushing her, she was too fragile. 

 

-

 

Bela   2020

 

I made a world today, in a desolate part of the planet. No one lives here. Or there used to be no one living here. It's my world now though. A little bubble where no one died. They're all alive here. I see them everyday. I don't talk to them though, I know they’re not real. 

 

-

 

Thea read through the rest of the notes in silence. 

 

-

 

Bela    2020

 

I got rid of all the mirrors. It's like I see her all over again in them. 

 

-

  Bela   2022 

 

I got bored again, back to my usual dimension hopping, I suppose. After all, if I can't find fun here, I can at least find it somewhere else right? Oh! I forgot, I took out twelve people from the hero society. They were annoying. No one will remember them anyway. Does it count as murder if you just wipe them from existence? 

 

-

 

Bela   2024

 

I made a friend today. His name's Johnny. I can just tell we're gonna have so much fun together. Especially since he lets me catch test subjects for him. Anyway I need to do research on how to revive a soul eater hybrid. I've never done that before. It'll be fun!

 

-

 

—

 

Thea was glad Bela had at least found Johnny. Somehow, someway, they helped each other. Somehow, someway, he brought Bela back to her. For that she would be forever thankful. 

 

The paper dissolved into bright floating particles before her eyes, as she lifted her gaze to follow them she found herself in a garden full of white roses and hydrangeas. Before her lay a woman, sitting on the ground and sobbing beneath her long and thick white veil. She wore a flowing white dress and had white bandages wrapped around her arms. Brown skin peeked out from under them covered with red lines. 

 

A floating headdress, not unlike a crystal chandelier, hung over her veiled head. It was the shape of two semi circles with flowing crystals attached to them. They chattered in the low wind of the garden. Thea found that she was alone, she noticed this fact last. 

 

Unknown to her each member of their ragtag group was having their own interaction with the entity before her. 

 

Grief. 

 

—

 

The light of the flying sun, as golden as her hair.

 

As bright as her smile.

 

I find myself longing to catch it.

 

I can never hold it in my hands, however the flowers cradle it gratefully. 

 

Find it to escape the choking vines of grief.

 

The cloying scent of tears.

 

Grief did not speak, yet for this riddle, this poem of longing. After, she went silent, except for her mournful howls and tearful requiems. 

 

—

 

Eventually each member of the group found the flying sun eventually, Johnny first, Rowan second, Thea third, Tatiana fourth, Ian fifth, and Alina and Miahi; sixth and seventh.

 

—

 

Opening her eyes Thea found herself in a child’s room. It was dark blue, there was a small bed in the corner with purple blankets and trinkets and drapes hung from the ceiling. She felt a tug at her leather skirts and looked down.

 

“Jartize man.” A child in a large oversized red sweater stood before her. Bela. She was small, probably around five years old. Her hair was in a tiny braid, curls escaped it. She had a child size argyle skirt on under the sweater, it covered her legs entirely. 

 

Thea knelt down and looked into Bela’s eyes, she smiled in a way she hoped was comforting. The child smiled back and grabbed at her hand, wrapping her tiny fingers around her fingers. 

 

“Saj te azutis man?” Thea nodded at her, she couldn't speak Romani very well but she knew most of the language having learned it to impress Bela ages ago before they dated. 

 

“Zan pala mande.” The child tugged her towards a closed door, it looked like the closet door. Thea smiled at her confused but followed anyway. She made her way carefully over to the door, decorated with various crosses and framed by hanging dried flowers and herbs. 

 

“Zhutin la.” The child pointed at the door. Help her? Thea considered it, this place worked strangely perhaps there was another version of Bela behind that door. Another aspect of her. Steeling her nerves she opened the closet and was met with a room made entirely of glass. 

 

Bela laid out on a singular couch in the room, which was also made of glass. Above her sat a large clock which ticked ominously. 

 

Bela wore a large comedy mask made of porcelain of her face, there were black tear marks streaking down the otherwise perfect white surface. She wore a dark gray sweater and black leggins with white leg warmers. Her feet were covered in black slippers. 

 

When Thea turned back around she was met with the sight of no door or child version of Bela. There was just a glass wall, and her own reflection staring back at her. Her reflection shocked her though.

 

In it she was wearing a white sundress, her hair done in a braid, there was a spear stuck through her chest and blood stained her face messily. Was this how she had died in Bela’s world?

Thea ignored her reflection with a brief shiver of revulsion and walked forward, who was this version of Bela? Bela didn't react to her approach at all and continued to lie there. Before her lay a folder, in it were pages and pages of reports. 

 

Times of Death. 

 

Thea realized this was likely what Bela was experiencing when she was told of everyones death.

 

Guilt. 

 

She grabbed the folder of papers and read through them, a sticky note fell out. It said two simple words. I’m sorry. Thea looked mournfully at the broken girl before her. She knew what Bela was waiting to hear.

 

“I forgive you.” 

 

—

 

All around Thea the room burst into colorful light, phantom shadows of children raced past her and garish plushies decorated the walls of a booth standing right before her. An arcade? She turned to her right and nearly jumped out of her skin in shock. Before her was another Bela. 

 

The Bela before her turned and smiled at her, wide and unabashed. None of the manic energy present within it, just pure joy. 

 

“I'm happy to be here to help, where are you going darling?” 

 

Happiness then. Thea considered her words and then the bright carnival of sounds and colors around her. 

 

“Bela sent me in here, said she had something to show me.” Happiness considered her words briefly and then nodded grinning wide. 

 

“I know where to go!” 

 

With that she grabbed at Thea’s arm and tugged her past the carnival sets or plushies and games, the carousel watched them with its grinning animals and phantom children with wide white eyes in dark inky faces watched her curiously. Happiness led her to a curtained off section of the room and pointed to the red and purple door behind it. 

 

“Go through that door right there and see fear, she'll help you out!” Thea turned to thank her but she was already bounding off to go play with the shadow children. 

 

—

 

Fear was of course, fearful of Thea. Thea didn't know whether to be insulted or sad that her wife held some fear towards her. But that quickly disappeared when she heard Fear’s pleas. 

 

“Don't be mad at me please .” Fear whispered pleadingly behind her hands as she hid her face. She was wearing a dark black cloak that covered the majority of her body, the hood was pulled up over her eyes. Her hair swirled around her face like smoke under the hood. Her hands were darkened and bleeding at the fingertips, likely from her biting them. 

 

She held a lantern on her right wrist, it illuminated the dark foggy area they were in and allowed Thea to see hands reaching out from the grass surrounding them, tugging at Fear’s cloak incessantly. 

 

“Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me, I beg. Not again I can't take it again.” Fear pleaded louder the closer Thea walked. Thea reached Fear’s shaking form and gently tugged her hands away from her face.

 

“I won't leave you and I'm not mad.” She reassured Fear, the woman continued to tremble anyway. Her lip was quivering and she seemed near tears or screams. Her hair covered her eyes in curling patterns of bangs. 

 

“Fear,” Thea spoke gently and kissed Fear’s bloodied fingers, “can you lead me to where Bela wants me to go?” Fear hesitated and then nodded shakily. 

 

“I-I can. Follow me, and please don't let go of my hand.” Thea could tell the second request was more for Fear’s reassurance than her own safety so she acquiesced. As Fear led her through the grove of reaching hands and shadow whispers Thea felt a large amount of pity for the emotion. To live like this? She wouldn't wish it upon anyone. It reminded her strangely of the Fields of Asphodel. The thought made her sadder. 

 

Eventually Fear brought her to a boat and handed her the lantern, then she stepped into the boat and gestured for Thea to follow.  The river was full of screaming and accusing faces, it was blood red. Thea ignored this and focused on fear as she summoned a large pole and began to row the boat down the stream humming a strange song under her breath. 

 

Eventually the river gave way to a large ocean in a dark cavern, she could see a large eye peeking through the holes in the cavern ceiling. Fear seemed calmer now, she wasn't shaking anymore and her humming was now full blown singing. Thea felt her eyes drift close of their own accord and she swore she only slept for a few minutes but when she woke she was somewhere completely different. 

 

—

 

She found herself in a cavern, lit with crystals. Before her was another version of Bela. She had a lunar moth sitting directly on her face, covering her eyes. She wore a flowing mint shawl overtop of a white nightgown and there were more lunar months finding their homes in her large curls. 

 

“Humanity.” The figure said, and then she pointed at the lagoon that stood between them. It was lit deep within with a blue light, similar to Bela’s magic. 

 

“Do you want me to swim?” Thea asked, placing her hands on her belted hips. Humanity nodded and pointed again at the lagoon, lunar moths fluttered around her. Thea considered her options but with nowhere else to go she supposed she'd just have to trust Humanity. 

 

Stepping into the lagoon, she dove down into the clear water and swam straight for the light source. The world began to tilt around her as she swam deeper, and suddenly she was swimming directly to the surface. She broke the water and surfaced with a gasp. 

 

—

 

The cavern before her was beautiful, Thea examined it when she got out of the water. She noticed that despite swimming she wasn't wet at all. All around her on the cavern walls were various inscriptions and engravings detailing images of the Fabric of The Universe. Thea had heard of the Fabric, she had told Ian about it as well one night when they had gotten together to hang out. 

 

The Fabric was rumored to be Bela, but her Bela had died which meant she couldn't have been the Fabric. The Fabric was immortal, unkillable. It was said that the Fabric had been trapped in a mortal body and once freed would regain its status among the stars. Many searched for this supposed mortal shell to control it, find a way to mold and shape the fabric how they wanted. None succeeded. But maybe that's because the Fabric simply wasn't there, maybe it's because this Bela was the Fabric. 

 

At these thoughts she could hear a soft giggle, like dewdrops hitting the grass. She turned around and saw before her another version of Bela. 

 

This Bela wore a purple dress with a gold belt cinching her waist, the dress reflected the stars and seemed as though woven from space itself. Her hair swirled around her like clouds, and covered her eyes from view. Two twin halos were floating above her head, glowing etherally in the dim light of the mystical cavern. 

 

Wings sprouted from her back, Thea could tell that she had at least nine pairs of wings. One of her head and eigh on her back. Was the Bela before her truly-

 

“The Fabric stands before you, my beloved souls.” 

 

“The Fabric?”

 

It was only then Thea noticed, the others had joined her once more.

 

—

 

Ah, so she’s revealing it to them.

 

Well that puts a wrench in my plans.

 

Owen?

 

Yes, my dear? 

 

Could you please get Lucas for me? I have something to tell him, it’s about that Bela girl he’s been looking for.

 

—

Chapter 17: Seventeen

—------------- 

Owen. 

 

Johnny wondered what he could possibly be doing here. After all, he’d never exactly warped out of their home reality.

 

Unless he was stronger than he’d been letting on.

 

But how? 

 

And why would he be searching for Bela?

 

Did he take her?

 

Johnny began to stiffen, looking frantically around the room for her. Was it all a distraction? A ploy to get Bela away from-

 

“Johnny!” A tiny Bela popped her head out of his coat pocket. “Overthinking doesn’t look good on you!”

 

What?

 

“Since when could you do that?! ”

 

Bela shrugged. “Since forever. Haven’t had much of a chance to use it recently.”

 

“Who the hell was that?” Rowan questioned, dusting the yellow petals off of himself. “You seemed to know him.”

 

“That’s Owen,” I sigh. “He’s…kinda like Bela.”

 

“You think he’ll wanna be friends?”

 

“No, Bela. He’s clearly the messenger for someone.”

 

“So you caught onto that, too,” Thea stepped toward Johnny. “He’s not alone, there’s most likely a decent group with him if they’re after her.”

 

“Man, am I popular?”

 

“Bela.” She put her hands on her wife’s shoulders. “Do you have any idea why he’d be after you? Or who he’d be with?”

 

“He could be with anyone from Johnny’s old group,” Bela said. 

 

Old group. That sent a pang through Johnny’s chest. He didn’t understand why.

 

–

 

Rowan watched as Johnny began to pace the room, Bela poking out of his pocket. He’d never looked this worried before, and that was saying something.

 

And his old group? What was Bela talking about?

 

Rowan almost felt ashamed. Now he was friends with him, but still didn’t really know much about Johnny. How did that make any sense?

 

He had so many questions for Johnny, but it didn’t seem like the right time to ask. When did it ever?

 

Johnny began to flip through a book, then frantically searched through cabinets. He shot up, slamming his hands on the table with a harshly whispered fuck .

 

“What? You missing something?”

 

“Ashwagandha. I don’t have any of the buds left.”

 

“Surely Rowan can bloom some up for you,” Bela chirped, hopping out of Johnny’s pocket and onto the book.

 

“That’s not how my body works,” Rowan grunted. “Wouldn’t have to wait for weed to grow if I could do that.”

 

Johnny’s mouth curled into a faint smile that Rowan noticed immediately. At least he was some help.

 

Some odd urge nagged at his mind. It didn’t quite sound like his voice.

 

Couldn’t hurt to try.

 

“Maybe we can, like, find some?”

 

“Do you recognize the plant?”

 

“I work with plants all the time, how hard could it be? There’s a forest right around here, too, right?”

 

“I’m not sure we’d find it there, but we could try.”

 

“Wait,” Thea chimed in. “You don’t plan on taking Bela, do you?”

 

“Why? Should we not?”

 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Thea sighed. Rowan recognized her change in demeanor. It always happened with Jasper whenever he wanted Rowan to be careful.

 

Maia, how he missed Jasper.

 

“Thea, I think I’ll be okay-”

 

“We don’t know what they’re planning,” she insisted. “They might even try to kidnap you, or worse. We should be hiding you.”

 

“ Hiding me?”

 

“In the palace. I’ll stay with you as much as I can.” Thea took Bela in her cupped hands. She fit perfectly, strangely enough. “We need to protect you.”

 

“What if they just wanna see me?”

 

“They didn’t even tell Owen what they had planned,” Johnny sighed. “I don’t think it’s anything but malicious.”

 

Bela slumped as Thea spoke to Ian. 

 

“We’re taking her to the palace,” Thea announced. “You two can go find that plant you need. But whatever you do, don’t even speak her name. They could very well be listening.”

 

Without another word, spare Ian’s loving wave to Johnny, the three left.

 

And now they were alone.

 

Hey, maybe Rowan could finally get to know Johnny more.

 

“Wait, what were we looking for?”

 

“Ashwagandha, Rowan.” Johnny closed the book, putting it in a satchel and slinging it over his shoulder. “It’s for a potion.”

 

“What’s the potion for?”

 

“My nerves.” He began to leave the lab, nodding for Rowan to follow.

 

His nerves?

 

They walked the path into the forest, scanning everything for the plant. It didn’t seem to be anywhere in the sparse regions, so they went deeper into the woods.

 

Surely it would be safe to talk to him now.

 

“Johnny?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“B-uh… They said you had an old group?”

 

Johnny stopped walking. Rowan’s heart began to race.

 

“What was that about?”

 

“If I tell you, I need you to promise you won’t bring it up unless absolutely necessary. Ever. Okay?”

 

“Uh…okay? I promise..?”

 

Johnny heaved a sigh. “He was my friend. There were eleven of us, including me.”

 

“Damn, eleven?!”

 

Johnny nodded. “We went through everything together. Practically lived together, raised each other. We were… family .”

 

“How long did you have them?”

 

“Since we were children. We saw each other grow up. We weren’t all the same species, either, so some of us started growing horns, got halos…” Johnny smiled softly, clearly lost in memory. The sight made Rowan’s heart wrench for the Phoenix.

 

“We faced everything together,” Johnny continued. “Even fought a war together.”

 

“As kids?!”

 

“No, no, as adults. We fell apart after that.”

 

“But you fought together. How?” Rowan could barely fathom it. Growing up with someone, fighting war with them, all for nothing?

 

Another heavy sigh. “Ian…he died in the war. Josh almost did, but he hung on. Charlie was able to heal because of that. Zach, too. They didn’t lose who they cared about most.”

 

Rowan stood silent. It seemed too delicate a topic to interrupt.

 

“I practically went mad,” Johnny chuckled dryly. “Oh, you should’ve seen it. I nearly killed Elenor when she tried to take Ian’s body from my lab. Owen never forgave me for it. The others became scared of me.”

 

“Are you that strong?”

 

“No. But I was never violent.” Johnny met Rowan’s eyes. A sorrow he didn’t recognize glinted in his gaze. “I was the group’s sunshine. That’s what they called me. Never swore, never fought, always cheery and bubbly. Full of energy.”

 

Rowan tried to imagine it. A happy-go-lucky Johnny, turned murderous out of grief.

 

“They used to visit, but seeing how unstable I was…Nobody came around after a short while. I was alone, in every sense of the word.”

 

“Well, uh…You have us now!”

 

Silence followed before Johnny showed Rowan yet another new emotion of his.

 

He cried . His tears fell, silent, before turning into choked sobs. He sounded so broken. Rowan wasn’t sure what to do.

 

His mind wandered a moment, landing once again on Jasper. His warm, comforting embrace.

 

The same embrace he then offered Johnny.

 

Rowan heard Johnny’s breath hitch, possibly in surprise. He curled his tail around him gently. Rowan wasn’t sure if he’d get shoved away, but that thought melted when Johnny clung to him roughly, whimpering out mournful cries.

 

He’d lost everything. His lover, his family…

 

Rowan wondered if he’d be this way if his old friends stood. If they’d just let him grieve a little longer. He was angry at them for robbing Johnny of that.

 

Maybe he’d punch that Owen guy the next time he saw him. 

 

Hopefully he didn’t see him again. Dude somehow pulled a Bela, he’d have no chance.

 

Owen never forgave me for it.

 

That Owen blames me for half the shit that’s gone wrong in our lives.

 

Was every version of this guy a douchebag? Both Ian and Johnny had this dude holding grudges.

 

Johnny’s sobbing had quieted to small whimpers. He still clung to Rowan like his life depended on it, so Rowan didn’t dare let go prematurely. He’d already had enough of that in his life.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Johnny whispered. “I didn’t mean for you to see me this way.”

 

“It’s all good. At least you’re not some weird robodude with no emotions.”

 

Johnny choked out a laugh, releasing Rowan to dab at his eyes with his sleeve. 

 

“I haven’t had emotions for a while,” Johnny sighed, now composed. “But you keep bringing them out of me.”

 

“I’m just great like that.”

 

They started walking through the forest again. Rowan was now even closer to his new friend. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, actually asking him stuff. 

 

—

Johnny never took Rowan for the hugging type.

 

Then again, he probably didn’t seem like the hugging type to Rowan, either.

 

He despised talking about his history with anyone, but Rowan’s reception to his words made him just a little more inclined to open up about things.

 

They continued to search for the plant, talking idly about simple things. Potions. Chemicals. Anything they were both familiar with.

 

“Isn’t that thing it?”

 

Rowan pointed to a plant with pale orange buds, clustered around multiple tiers along the stems. 

 

“It is.” Johnny was nearly shocked Rowan lived up to his words. How many plants could he recognize? “But is that really the only one here?”

 

Both looked around, confused.

 

“Last I checked, they didn’t grow so randomly,” Johnny mused. “Not even in this world.”

 

“Maybe you picked too many?”

 

“Perhaps.” Johnny reached for the plant, plucking a cluster of buds off the stem.

 

“ Johnny?! Johnny!” He felt Rowan’s tail again. 

 

“What are you—”

 

Their surroundings. This wasn’t the forest.

 

This looked like Hell . Johnny’s Hell.

 

He felt his heart drop as a loud, low slamming noise echoed around them. One very familiar to him.

 

A lockdown. 

 

Johnny instinctively grabbed Rowan, pulling him close. He could feel him hyperventilating against him.

 

This couldn’t be right.

 

Dripping, blood red tentacles began to emerge from the rubbled ground before them, and out came Lucas, looking identical to how Johnny last saw him.

 

“Red eyes?! Johnny, what the fuck is—”

 

“Johnny.” Lucas gave him a formal bow, the same bow he gave strangers who entered his domain. “They’ll be here shortly.”

 

“What?! Lucas, who?!” Johnny clung to Rowan even tighter. Rowan did the same, clearly petrified by the King of Darkness. 

 

“Owen and Elenor.”

 

Elenor . Why the hell did she wanna see him? Last time they saw one another they fought over…

 

Bela.

 

Oh god.

 

—

 

This dude looked evil , Rowan thought. He was around Johnny’s height, and nearly everything on him was a shade of red. Even his eyes were red. His horns curled against his head, hooking just underneath his eyes. His hair looked like it was underwater, swaying as he moved.

 

“Why are you so scared?” Lucas’s cold gaze darted from Johnny to Rowan. “Are you afraid I’ll kill him?”

 

“Don’t you dare fucking touch him,” Johnny snapped. Rowan felt his grip tighten. The words dripped like venom. 

 

Lucas’s eyes glinted and his gaze faltered. Rowan was sure he would kill them both right then and there.

 

“Does he mean something to you?”

 

“Leave him alone. ”

 

Lucas hummed. “Do you know why you’re here, Johnny?”

 

“You kidnapped me! Of course not!”

 

“You know Bela. That should be more than enough. And we didn’t kidnap you, we brought you home .”

 

Johnny seemed to choke on his words, his hold on Rowan becoming shaky. Rowan coiled his tail around Johnny’s torso in the hopes it would somehow reassure him.

 

It seemed impossible to do so, what with his past being right in front of him. All around him, actually.

 

Lucas took a step forward, and Johnny took two back. 

 

“I mean it,” he growled. “Stay away from Rowan.”

 

“I won’t kill him.”

 

“I don’t want you near him.”

 

“Is he your next test subject?”

 

Rowan was terrified of Lucas, but even more so of Johnny. He’d never seen him so angry before.

 

Would he be this angry if Rowan wasn’t around? Was he in Johnny’s way?

 

“He’s my friend ,” Johnny spat. “You stay away from him!”

 

“Am I not your friend?”

 

Johnny broke into odd laughter, strained and manic, so different from the genuine laughs Rowan heard before. It worried him greatly. He didn’t want a Bela part two.

 

“If a friend’s job is to abandon someone at their lowest, oh, by all means!”

 

“You were dangerous, Johnny!”

 

“I wouldn’t have been had you not forced me around! I wasn’t ready for anything you were doing!”

 

If he wasn’t so mortified, Rowan would have slapped Lucas by now. Maybe even slugged him.

 

“Everyone else was getting along fine, Johnny. What happened?”

 

“I lost Ian, that’s what happened.”

 

“So did we! We were able to move on—”

 

“Don’t you fucking start.” Johnny was seething. Rowan couldn’t help but cling to him despite this. 

 

“I saw him die, Johnny. I saw everything .”

 

“You only got that privilege because you were on the front lines.”

 

“You call that a privilege?!”

 

“ Yes ,” Johnny hissed. “You insisted I didn’t go on the front lines. The only semblance of closure I had was an incomplete body. I didn’t get to see what happened, I didn’t get to see him just before. You stole that from me!”

 

“You should be happy you didn’t see that shit,” Lucas grunted. “It was horrible.”

 

Rowan made the mistake of looking up at Johnny. He was met with what he could only assume was the murderous intent Johnny had mentioned just moments before.

 

“You didn’t lose what I did.”

 

“We all lost the same—”

 

“ No. You lost a demon. A pawn in your stupid game. I lost my lover. My childhood. My family. I lost my life . I had nothing , not even you . Fuck, I could find Lionas and kill him right now. Hide the body for you to find. Would you still say you and I both lost the same thing?”

 

“Don’t fucking threaten my baby-”

 

“ Hypocrite . I could say he was like my baby, too. I could. We’d be losing the same thing, right?”

 

“No! You’d kill him-”

 

“ Just like you killed Ian, right? ”

 

Lucas fell silent, inching away from Johnny slightly. He looked torn.

 

A familiar hand reached out from the ground beside Lucas. That Owen guy, along with some woman Rowan had never seen before. This must be the Elenor that Lucas mentioned.

“Johnny,” Rowan whispered, tugging on his sleeve. “Can’t we bust our way outta here?”

 

Johnny’s body seemed to loosen up at the sound of Rowan’s voice, he noted. How odd.

 

“No,” Johnny sighed. “Lucas trapped us here.”

 

“Where is here?”

 

“Hell,” Elenor spoke. She had a weirdly calm smile. “Johnny’s home dimension.”

 

“Stop calling it that.”

 

“This is your home.”

 

“You ruined that.”

 

“She really has plagued your mind, hasn’t she?”

 

“She had nothing to do with what you caused!”

 

She seemed to ignore Johnny, turning her attention to me. For some reason, her stare looks familiar. I can’t put my finger on it.

 

“Rowan,” she sighs, shaking her head. “You could’ve said no.”

 

“W-what are you talking about?”

 

“You could have stayed where you belong, Rowan.”

 

“How do you know my name?”

 

Great, now she’s ignoring me. Bitch.

 

“Johnny, you’ve had your fun. It’s time to return.”

 

“I’m not some child, Elenor.”

 

“And yet, here you are, running amok like one.”

 

Johnny stays quiet, but I feel him tap into my spine. Some sort of code? I wish I knew what he meant.

 

I yelp as he suddenly picks me up and starts sprinting. How the fuck is he so fast?!

“There’s nowhere to go, Johnny,” Elenor’s voice rings through Hell. “All eyes are on you.”

 

—

 

There has to be a way out of here. Maybe one of the other Sins will let me out.

 

I turn a sharp corner straight for the meeting room, closing the door behind me.

 

“Oh, my.” A familiar voice.

 

“Zaaz!” I set Rowan down beside me, running up to Zaaz. “Please, you have to help me!”

 

“Last I checked, I was obligated to do no such thing.” Zaaz leans back in his chair as Faranei giggles at his remark.

 

“ Please . We need to get out of here.”

 

“Out of Hell?”

 

“Yes! Yes, please!”

 

“I’m afraid I am not permitted to do that. Lucas would have my head for such a thing.”

 

“ What?! ”

 

Zaaz runs his hand through his hair. “You surely don’t believe he wouldn’t have explained something so serious to us, right? We are under strict orders not to listen to you.”

 

“Zaaz, please!”

 

“You must forgive me, Torres. I cannot assist you.” Zaaz gives me his signature sly smile.

 

“What do I have to do to get you to help us?! For fuck’s sake, at least get Rowan out of here, he doesn’t deserve this!”

 

He tilts his head, eyeing Rowan. 

 

“What an odd creature.”

 

“ Help him , please! Leave me here, I don’t care!”

 

“Rowan, you said?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Zaaz hums. “Lucas mentioned a Rowan. We are under no jurisdiction to help you.”

 

I want to flip the table. On Zaaz. 

 

The door behind Zaaz clicks. Lucas’s meeting room. My heart drops at the possibility that he’s already found us.

 

It crushes when I see that it’s not Lucas, but Ian . 

 

He stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide at me. Rowan starts to tug at my sleeve again.

 

“Didn’t you say he died?” he whispers.

 

“Johnny,” Ian mutters. Like the name is foreign to him. I doubt he got all of his memories back…

 

I start to reach for the doorknob, horrified to find it locked from the outside.

 

All eyes are on you.

 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck !” I shake the doorknob frantically, but it won’t open. Rowan soon joins me in panicking, trying to straight up break the knob.

 

“That won’t work,” Ian sighs. “Please, work with us, Johnny.”

 

“No!” I scream. “Please, we were fine! Let us go!”

 

Rowan starts to kick the door with intense force, and after five kicks, it comes crashing down. He takes my hand with his tail and starts running.

 

“Rowan! Rowan, please be careful!”

 

“Why?!”

 

“Ian’s a soul eater! He can catch up to-”

 

My next step feels suspended in the air, and what feels like thousands of hands start grabbing at Rowan and I.

 

Shit. He got us.

 

“Ian!” I feel the floor against my face. Even restraining me, he’s so gentle. 

 

I wonder if it sickens him, what he’s doing.

 

The shadows around Rowan and I begin to fade, with Ian having me pinned with his arms and Rowan trapped in the coil of his tail.

 

“Ian, please! Let us go!”

 

“I can’t, Johnny. I’m sorry.”

 

I try to thrash around, but even that is useless against Ian’s strength. Heaving out a strained groan, I look up, met with Elenor’s stupid smile again.

 

“A decent attempt, I’ll admit,” she says, getting on her knees to face me. “But I did warn you.”

 

Rowan kicks beside me, to no avail, panting in exasperation. 

 

“Johnny.” He turns to face me. “Are we gonna die?”

 

He looks horrified. I don’t even know what they’re going to do with him.

 

The idea makes me tear up. Terrified that I’m going to lose my best friend, I burst into tears.

 

“I’m so sorry, Rowan,” I sob. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

 

Rowan’s eyes widen at me. I feel Elenor’s hands at my temples.

 

“Elenor.”

 

“Johnny, you can’t fight this anymore.”

 

“No.” I can’t calm my crying down. “Please don’t hurt him. Please.”

 

She gives me an oddly comforting look of sympathy, and I feel her place a tender kiss on my head.

 

—

 

Johnny’s crying stops altogether, and he goes limp when Elenor releases him. 

 

Oh Maia.

 

I’m gonna die.

 

I try to kick more, but Ian’s hold on me is too strong. That, and I’m face down. I’m so fucked.

 

“Is he dead?! Did you kill him?! Oh Maia, you killed him!”

 

“He is not dead, Rowan,” Elenor chuckles, approaching me. “Simply asleep.”

 

She kneels down, reaching for me like she did with Johnny.

 

Oh Maia. No. No no no.

 

I try to bite her hand, but she retracts it before I can get close enough.

 

“Don’t be difficult,” she chides. “This is for your own good.”

 

She puts her hands on both sides of my head, tilting my face up.

 

“You’ll wake up soon. Trust me.”

 

I see her lean down. Not another kiss.

 

—

 

What a raging headache.

 

I lift my head up, realizing I’m in my lab. I must’ve done an all-nighter again.

 

I hear groaning next to me, and I get startled. Did someone find my lab? It’s a big forest, they shouldn’t have-

 

Oh. Rowan.

 

“Rowan? When did you get here?”

 

He lifts his head, slumping over the lab table.  I get a sense of deja vu, like I’ve seen someone do that exact movement before. Maybe he’s done it a lot?

 

“Man, you’re asking the wrong person.” His goggles left a horrible imprint on his face.

 

I giggle, pushing up my glasses. “We must’ve had a rough night or something. I don’t remember shit .”

 

“Did we get, like, hung over? Ugh, Maia , this headache…”

 

“Maia? What’s that?”

 

Rowan furrows his brows at me. “Maia? Our god?”

 

“Oh. I’m not religious. I just say God.”

 

Rowan rolls his eyes, lifting himself off the table to stretch. “I’m bored.”

 

“You just woke up.”

 

“So? I woke up bored.”

 

Now I’m rolling my eyes. “We can cook up a potion, if you want.”

 

“Ooh!” Rowan jumps off his seat, like the headache is gone. “What kind?”

 

“Nothing with chloroform.” 

 

Chloroform? Why did I say that?

 

“Oh, come on! I only did that in front of you once!”

 

When?

 

“Wait, didn’t I? Right?”

 

“I…I don’t remember. And would you put out that fire?! What if it burns something important?”

 

“You know my clothes won't stop burning. Maia, we must’ve been wasted yesterday, haha!” Disregarding my worry. So reckless. 

 

“What did we even do?!”

 

“Bad potion? Sounds like us.”

 

I laugh, getting up to search for my potion book. I check my satchel after a while, and sure enough, it’s there. 

 

“Hey, Rowan, did you put my book in here?”

 

“No, why would I?”

 

What is going on? Our potion couldn’t have gone that bad, right?

 

I flip through the pages. I’ve worked with so many of these plants time and time again.

 

I stop, landing on a page titled Atropa Belladonna . My heart wrenches at it for some reason. Maybe just a palpitation?

 

I run my hand through my hair. It feels so short for some reason, but I don’t remember ever having it past my neck. “Let’s do something with Belladonnas.”

 

“Belladonnas? Why?”

 

“Don’t know,” I shrug, chuckling. “It’s calling to me, I suppose.”

Chapter 18: Eighteen

—

 

Alina Dumitrescu is falling to pieces.

 

Ever since she was a child there was a certain set of facts she lived by, rules that would always be there, promises that would never break. ‘Alina Dumitrescu lives in a large manor with her mother and her father.’ ‘Alina Dumitrescu has a friend named Mihai Ayres.’ ‘Alina Dumitrescu enjoys the color blue.’ ‘Alina Dumitrescu is loved.’ ‘Alina Dumitrescu is her parents' perfect daughter.’ ‘Alina Dumitrescu will do anything for those she loves.’ 

 

Then her father died. Car crash. Accident, they said. Alina was twelve. 

 

The facts of life changed. 

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu has a widowed mother.’ ‘Alina Dumitrescu hates the color blue.’ ‘Alina Dumitrescu can lose the ones she loves.’

 

As she got older the facts and rules kept changing. Alina hated it. 

 

But then, oh then …

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu loves Mihai Ayres.’

 

They got together in highschool, they were sixteen and madly in love. She brought him to her house, her mother was ecstatic for the first time in years- ever since her father’s death Alina’s mother had been a shell of her former self. 

 

Mihai was a star burning bright in her eyes, he was a warm hearth on a cold night, the glittering blue she had lost when her father died was found in his eyes. She found she didn't mind the color blue if it meant she could see it from him. 

 

They got married in winter, there was dancing and drinks and celebration from large families. There was a banquet and joyful eyes. There was a new fact in life that came from it all.

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu will never love anyone more than Mihai Dumitrescu.’

 

A few months later the facts of life changed again.

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu is going to be a mother.’ 

 

Mihai had been over the moon, spending sleepless nights curating a perfect nursery for their child- they later found out they were having twins and he hurriedly did it all over again. 

 

When her children were born she could feel her love shift. A new fact in life.

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu would die for her children.’

 

Their children were a perfect mix of the two. 

 

Belladonna and Tatiana. 

 

Her perfect, darling girls. 

 

A new fact in life.

 

‘Belladonna and Tatiana were the stars in her night sky.’

 

Belladonna was the more quiet of the two, she was shy and reserved. She was more like her father in personality than looks. With her dark hair and her hooked nose and her honey brown eyes, she resembled Alina closely. 

 

Her twin, Tatiana, was the same, though she had early shocks of white in her hair. Side effects of chronological magic, she had later found out. She was loud and happy, boisterous and confident. The protector to her sister, even though she was only two minutes older.

 

Their children grew strong and healthy, loved by both parents, and they didn't have to suffer the cruel fact of life that is death and grief. 

 

But then her youngest daughter was sixteen. She had just turned sixteen. Her longtime crush had asked her on a date set for that day. Her birthday.

 

The girl had brought black dahlias, Alina only found this out after.

 

After her youngest daughter came home to her.

 

In a shroud.

 

In a body bag.

 

Without a head.

 

The facts of life changed again.

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu cannot protect her children.’ ‘Alina Dumitrescu will lose the ones she loves.’ 

 

Alina wore a veil after this, she hid her tearstained face and became a recluse to her life. She couldn't stand to look at her eldest daughter anymore, they both knew that was another reason she wore the veil. So she wouldn't have to see her eldest grow old without her.

 

But then, oh then…

 

Belladonna came back to her, year and years later. She was older now. Twenty five. 

 

She had blue eyes now, messy hair and she dressed like a housewife. Alina found she didn't care at all, her baby was back home, that's all that mattered. 

 

The facts of life changed again.

 

‘Belladonna is alive.’ 

 

Belladonna was different now, she said she had been switched to another dimension before she had died. She said that she preferred being called ‘Bela’ now. Alina still called her Belladonna. Her darling flower. 

 

Months passed.

 

Belladonna lived at the palace with her now wife, Thea. The girl who gave her the black dahlias. The girl who was forced to kill her darling child. The woman who pledged her whole life to Belladonna. That’s what she focused on most about Thea, the fact that she pledged herself to her child brought her a peace of mind. 

 

Belladonna was strange, happier but in a more sinister way. Alina found she still didn't mind, she didn't care how her daughter came back she was just happy she came back at all. Tatiana however, she cared. 

 

Tatiana came to them a few days before the solstice, told them Belladonna wasn't their daughter, she gave them proof. Her strange behavior suddenly made sense. 

 

The facts of life changed again.

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu couldn't tell her daughter apart from an imposter.’ 

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu was a terrible mother.’ 

 

She held her daughter as she cried, she protected her from the imposter. It didn't stop the heartbreak she felt at hearing that thing call her Mama in such a broken tone. 

 

The thing disappeared, her eldest vanished soon after, Alina put the veil back on and Miahi retired to bed feigning exhaustion. She pretended not to hear his sobs.

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu cannot fix her broken family.’

 

—

 

Their eldest came back, she told them of a blood test she ran on the imposter, she told them of it being positive. Alina cried, raged, burned her veil. Mihai sat silent, tears dripping from his face. Tatiana urged them to apologize to Belladonna, dragging them to the lab. 

 

Their daughter met them there, surrounded by sleeping figures, she urged them forward and offered relief. Closure. They accepted and fell asleep as well. 

 

The facts of life changed again.

 

‘Belladonna wasn’t from this world.’ 

 

‘Her daughter was dead.’

 

‘Alina Dumitrescu had a second chance.’ 

 

She grasped at this second chance with greedy hands, she wouldn't let it go, not this time. She wouldn't watch her flower wither away, she refused to let it die this time. She would cradle her star in her night sky and it would thrive .

 

There were simple facts in life, rules Alina could trust, promises that would never break. 

 

‘She has two beautiful children.’ 

 

‘She has a loving husband.’

 

‘She has a wonderful, perfect family.’

 

‘Nothing would take her daughter from her ever again, not while she breathed.’ 

 

—

 

Bela stood in front of a mirror in her and Thea’s shared chambers, she scanned her bloodied and ruined outfit and took notice of Thea sitting patiently on the bed in the background. 

 

“Darling?” Bela turned around and planted her hands on her hips, Thea quickly stood to attention. 

 

“Yes, flower?” 

 

“I should change my outfit, don't you think?” Thea scanned her briefly, and took stock of the blood and gore coating her wife. 

 

“If you'd like. It'd be for the best since you're covered in blood after all.” Bela sighed and turned towards Ian who stood silently at the door hidden in the shadows of the room. 

 

“What do you think?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Okay!” Bela waved a hand and a swirl of blue wound around her figure, hiding her from view before falling down in a shower of sparkles. Thea watched the extravagant display with something akin to awe while Ian squinted his eyes. When the sparks fell down, Thea's jaw dropped practically to the floor and Ian’s eyes widened before he covered them with a hand. No emotion showing on his face. 

 

Bela stood before them in a pair of leather thigh high stilettos heels with leather shorts and a dark leather corset. It shined in the light and her face was hidden under the brim on a tophat with a red bow and a rose on the side. Bela moved the hat with a flourish and let it tumble down her gloved arms. 

 

“Ta-da!” Thea stared with wide eyes and slowly lifted a hand to cover her open jaw, a red blush quickly overtaking her face. 

 

“Maybe..” Ian was still covering his eyes as he spoke, clearly he wasn't a fan of the outfit. 

 

“Oh! Wrong outfit!” Bela waved her hand again and her figure was overtaken again by blue magic. When it dropped she wore a completely different outfit. Ian slowly took his hand off of his face and slumped in relief at the change in clothes. Thea was clearly disappointed. 

 

Bela was clothed in an off shoulder top, colored a deep red. An argyle brown skirt swished around her legs and beneath that lay a pair of black platform boots. She had a dark red scarf tied in her hair leaving her bangs to be pushed forward to frame her face. Overall she looked completely different from her usual housewife outfits. 

 

“What do you think?” Thea smiled at her and examined her figure in a slow up and down gaze, Ian gave her a solid thumbs up from the corner. 

 

“It looks great on you darling.” 

 

“I thought it might be time to retire the housewife attire. After all, this was always my favorite way to dress.” She spun around and let her skirt fly in swirls around her legs. Then she moved over and sat on the bed beside Thea. 

 

“So,” she was looking directly at Ian, “why did you come with us?” 

 

“I figured Johnny could use the space, besides with him and who knows else around it's better to have two people protecting you than one.” 

 

Bela considered this briefly, it made sense. Much like a game of chess she supposed. Did this make her the King and them the Knights on the board? The thought made her laugh. Her wife watched her with thinly veiled adoration, Ian felt longing for his own partner then. 

 

He looked at the clock nearby on the bedside table, it had been a few hours and yet neither Johnny nor Rowan had appeared yet. Maybe they were bonding again? After all he had found them in the lab earlier that day, maybe they were restarting a project together. 

 

—

 

Night fell. 

 

Ian lay asleep in a chair nearby, his spear at his side ready. Thea lay asleep in the bed cradling her wife. 

 

Belladonna…

 

Bela stirred in her sleep, the voice crooned gently in her ears. 

 

Belladonna…

 

Bela’s eyes fluttered open, they were glazed and fully blue yet again. 

 

When she left the room Thea didn't notice, but Ian did. 

 

—

 

Ian watched as Bela stepped out of the room in nothing but her nightgown, her hair loose and wild. She walked on her tiptoes and wound her way through the halls, unaware of Ian following her. He caught up to her as she began to approach the forest, and grabbed at her shoulder turning her around. 

 

Bela spun around easily, normally she would have startled or teleported away from his grasp. She didn't quite like people sneaking up on her. But this time the smaller woman simply let him move her. He took notice of her eyes, glazed and blue. 

 

“Bela?” She didn't react to him at all and turned her head back to the forest. Around them he could hear faint whispers and laughter, singing like water falling onto rocks. 

 

The stars shone brightly, brighter than they ever have before. He didn't like it, it all felt eerie to him. Like something he wasn't meant to see. Quickly he grabbed Bela by the arm and tugged her back to the palace, using the shadowed grounds to help him move. 

 

When he exited the shadows he was still in the forest, but that couldn't be right, what happened? 

 

He felt a hand touch his shoulder, gentle and cold to the touch. He whirled around, it was Bela. Her eyes were normal. Was this some kind of weird dream?

 

He opened his mouth to ask her but she shushed him and pointed to the distance, from where he was he could see a figure faintly. Was it- 

 

Another him?!

 

Bela dragged them back from view, and hid them both behind a tree, with a muttered spell the two were invisible and they could talk freely.

 

“Another dimension.” Bela whispered to him, looking at him as though he should have already caught on to what she meant.

 

“What?”

 

“We're in Johnny’s original dimension, they took him. They did something to him.” Ian felt dread pool into his gut and a cold sweat broke out across his neck. What did she mean? 

 

“Cmon,” she gestured for him to follow her as she moved through the forest silently, ” let's go find him.” 

 

—

 

Johnny dreamed that night.

 

Funny, he didn't remember ever dreaming before.

 

But tonight he dreamed of a woman, she had dark skin and dark hair. Blue striking eyes. She was smiling at him, wide and unabashed.

 

She was saying something, he couldn't hear it though it sounded like everything was underwater.

 

He knew one thing though whoever this was made him feel safe, it made him like he belonged, like he wasn't- wasn't-

 

Wasn't what?

 

The dream shattered like a broken mirror, stars lit up the night sky above him as he fell. A winged figure hovered beside him, she had a purple dress and no expression. He couldn't see her eyes. 

 

Johnny…

 

Remember, you have my blessing…

 

Use my favor…

 

Remember the truth…

 

—

 

The woman moved swiftly through the forest, she had cast a silencing spell on both her and the man. She couldn't remember much about the man, his name for one was all she could recall. 

 

Ian. 

 

Another name bloomed into painful clarity.

 

Johnny.

 

She knew these names, these people were important. She didn't know how. She just knew she needed to keep them all together, that if things kept going like this, if those people kept meddling in her affairs that something terrible would happen. 

 

There was a black hole in the sky, large.

 

The woman blinked, there was no black hole in the sky. Just a Void of stars as if someone had taken a bite from the night sky. The thought confused her, she hadn't remembered thinking things like that before. In fact she hadn't remembered thinking much at all. Before- before- 

 

Before what? 

 

Bela…

 

Do you remember?

 

Your name.

 

You mustn't forget it. It is your one tie to humanity. 

 

Keep a hold of your bonds, or else you might slip. 

 

—

Rowan dreamed.

 

His head hurt in the dream and the images before him kept changing. One minute he’d be in the forest with Johnny the next they’d be running from, some dude with red hair? 

 

Johnny had long hair, but wasn't his hair short? Hadn't it always been short? 

 

Johnny looked panicked, scared, tears streamed down his face. He yelled, Rowan couldn't tell why. 

 

He blinked, he was back in the first with Johnny. There was a winged figure nearby, Johnny didn't notice her. Rowan did. When he looked back at Johnny he was gone, so was the forest. They stood in a starry void. The woman appeared before him, she was tall, much taller than anyone should be. 

 

Remember…

 

Huh?

 

You have my favor, little mush..

 

Use it..

 

Remember the truth, they have fed you lies. 

 

The floor shattered under Rowan he fell, he could see flashing versions of himself. Crying, making chloroform, running, sleeping, his mushroom falling off, him with- 

 

Jasper. 

 

The name set his mind in painful clarity for one moment, and then it all faded in the same instance. The name stuck though.

 

Jasper.

 

Whoever that was, he was important. 

 

Rowan was determined to find out why. 

 

—

Bela entered the lab, silent, no magic to aid her this time. Ian didn't follow, she told him to stay outside the lab. He didn't know why but he listened to her, perhaps he was supposed to guard them. He stayed outside anyway. 

 

The lab was silent, so was the forest, eerily so. He pretended he didn't notice the hoarding group of demons approaching, better to let them think they had the upper hand so he could more efficiently take them out. 

 

—

 

The woman- Bela, that was her name, she remembered now. 

 

Bela moved through the lab, there were sleeping quarters in the back. She could feel various minds approach, she planted bits of her magic in them with flicks and twists of her hand. She moved unnaturally, arms twisting and spine bending in ways no human should. She moved silently, no sound, as though sound simply was too far below her. 

 

She didn't breathe. Breathing seemed too far below a creature such as this. 

 

Bela found them, huddled together on a bed. She had a memory, faint as fog, of placing the albino man on the bed before. Of watching him as he slept, of protecting him. 

 

Was he a friend? 

 

She couldn't remember his name, she wanted to sleep again, desperately. She wished Ian hadn't stopped her before she reached the forest, here was where that presence was strongest after all. Or maybe- maybe she could find it somewhere else. Afterall she said she’d get Johnny away from here, hadn’t she? 

 

Johnny.

 

The name came to her in painful actualization, like a punch to the gut. 

 

Rowan.

 

 The name hit her right on the head, like a gunshot. 

 

They lay before her, minds altered, there were demons approaching, Ian was outside. She needed to fix this, get them back home. 

 

She twisted her hands, the demons fell and writhed in pain as visions of wars and nightmares long past wracked their minds. Ravaged their defenses, sent them running and scratching at enemies that were long gone. 

 

Using her magic to levitate the sleeping forms of Rowan and Johnny she sent them one final command to make sure they wouldn't wake in the confusion of their escape. 

 

“Sleep.” 

 

—

Jasper opened his eyes to an endless expanse of sand, the wind was cool to the touch and rain fell but did not touch his skin. It seemed as though there was a field around him, or maybe- no instead it seemed as though the rain disappeared before it could touch anything at all.

 

There was nothing around him but sand and when he opened his fist the note from that woman was still in it. Could he really do this? The Gods he had talked to  clearly hadn't liked her but when he tried to talk to them through his earrings they were oddly silent. Maybe it's because he helped her, had they abandoned him? 

 

Had they left him in some random desert to never return home? Never return back to Rowan? 

 

No. They couldn't have.

 

But they could have, and that possibility haunted him. 

 

He wandered the desert around him, there was an abandoned village nearby decorated with large and ornate buildings made of limestone and glass. There was no one there though, he considered his options. Talk to the mad woman who might not be so mad anymore or keep wandering. 

 

He chose the first.

 

—

 

Owen snuck past Ian who was far too busy trying to fight his way back into the lab and fend off the demons who had mistaken him as past enemies to notice, he came face to face with a woman in a white nightgown. Behind her were Johnny and the mushroom man- Rowan. 

 

Just as he opened his mouth to speak Ian came barreling through the doors, tackling him to the ground. Owen yelped and began to fight back against the hybrid but a wave of blue made him stop in his tracks. He lifted his gaze, the only part of his body he could. Was this? 

 

“Bela. Are you alright?” 

 

Bela, the woman he was supposed to find for Elenor. The one Elenor hated. He quickly changed things around, in a second Ian was on the ground, Owen lunging up towards the woman, her magic threw him into the door where Damian had been crucified. 

 

In the background he could hear faint mumbling and magic quickly warmed the air around them, the floor began to crack, he was outside of the zone that it seemed to be spreading in. Maybe he wouldn't have to kill her, her own spell could.

 

 But when he looked up he knew she wasn't the one casting it, for her mouth wasn't moving, and she seemed far too giddy at the sight of it for his liking. Taking a risk he lunged forward prepared to catch her off guard. The floor gave way under them, they fell down a rabbit hole of magic. 

 

Swirling around them like oil, smelling like ozone. Pure unadulterated magic. They landed harshly on the ground. At least he did, and as his vision faded he could see a pair of boots come up to his eye level. 

 

“Who are all these people?” A deep voice asked, and his vision went black. 

—

 

How many years has it been my love?

 

 30?

 

Ah I remember it like it was just yesterday

The smells of your baked peach pies, your hair cascading against the sun rays 

I could never forget your clumsiness but your heart of gold towards everyone

You tried to bring the good out of me

I was never the one for talking but you brought me out of my shell

The night you were covered in blood…

I couldn’t get it out of my head

You tried explaining it was an accident but…

I shouldn’t be thinking about the past

I’m surprised you loved me this much

You said you needed to go on a trip, something about connecting with nature

I laughed it off but 

Where are you…and

 Where is my son…?

 

—

 

Bela stood before Jasper, her hair loose and wild. She was wearing a thin white nightgown with a big blue bow in the middle of the chest. She looked so different from the other times he saw her. She looked younger, more innocent, more haunted . 

 

She moved across the fallen bodies of the people around her, they were unconscious. The sand shifted but did not leave any traces of her walking as she approached. She was shorter than him, smaller than he expected. She looked tired . 

 

It matched Rowan’s look after he realized he couldn't save Jasper. 

 

Jasper felt a brief surge of pity for the woman, his hesitance holding it back from encroaching on his face. What if she was still going to hurt him? Hurt Rowan? She came closer, Jasper prepared himself for a fight. She lunged forward and- 

 

She hugged him tightly around the waist, silent tears seeped into his chest through his sweater. He lightly embraced her back, she fell into his hold and silent hiccups shook her body as she cried. The moon watched them and the rain fell harder. The stars shone brightly, far brighter than they should. 

 

Around them lay people they would have to wake up, but that would be later, for now there was only her and him and the watchful moon. 

 

—

When Johnny woke up it was to the sight of rain falling above him, but never actually touching him. There was sand beneath him, despite the scenery he felt perfectly fine in his sweater and winter pants that he had slept in. Rowan lay beside him, in his oversized red sweater that was still somehow on fire and a pair of black leggins. His tail was wrapped tightly around a dark skinned arm. 

 

Johnny let his gaze lift up, there was a woman there. 

 

It was her. The woman from his dreams. She was here, so was this another dream? 

 

“It's not a dream.” The woman muttered, her voice was low and rough as though she had cried recently and heavily accented. Johnny startled not expecting to hear her this time around, she looked at him with eyes of sorrow. In the background, far behind her, Johnny could see a man with dark and somewhat golden skin. 

 

He looked familiar, it nudged something deep in his brain and it was gone in fleeting seconds. The man looked at him over his shoulder and he seemed pained before turning back to talk to a tall dark figure by his side. 

 

“So,” The woman was speaking again, she seemed to have collected herself cause now she was smiling, “let's introduce ourselves!” 

 

“I know you two,” she pointed at Johnny and a now awake Rowan who kept his tail coiled around her arm, ”but you don't remember me.” 

 

“My name is Belladonna. But you may call me-” 

 

She was cut off as Owen lunged at her clearly aiming to slice her throat with a quickly summoned knife, she swatted him with a hand and he went flying into the sand, she turned to him with a large grin. It was unsettling, it was far too large for Johnny’s liking but for some reason it felt normal to see on her. 

 

“IM FUCKING TALKING HERE!” She exclaimed, clearly upset, and then she turned to Johnny and Rowan smiling as though she hadn't said such a thing at all. 

 

“Anyway,” Owen yelled some curses at the woman, she didn't flinch before sending him a quick middle finger and returning to her conversation with Johnny and Rowan, “you may call me Bela.”

 

“Bela.” Johnny tested the name on his tongue, it felt strangely familiar. Bittersweet, like a fine tasting poison. Was this woman the reason he had wanted to do something with Belladonna’s earlier. The lurch in his heart returned, he felt grief and a strange mixture of joy at her smile. 

 

“Yep! Anyway, we're going to play a game, think of it like Hide and Seek, hm?” 

 

“I don't really want to play a game.” But as he said this Johnny knew he didn't have a choice, strangely though he didn't feel scared of that. It felt familiar to play games with her. Everything about her felt familiar, painfully so. 

 

“You're already playing the game silly!” She laughed into her hands, her eyes were open and glaring at him. Rowan’s tail stayed curled around her arm even as his body seemed to cower away from her unhinged expression. 

 

“How?”

 

“Well she started it when she hid you two, so now I’m just continuing it. Don't worry the game’s almost finished.” 

 

—

 

Wanna play a game?

 

Play with me.

 

Play with me.

 

Play. The. Game. 

 

—

 

Rowan couldn't wrap his mind over what he was seeing. The woman in front of him was in a nightgown and then a white and ruined dress. Her hands were bare and then gloved. Her neck was smooth and unmarked and then scarred deeply. She was clean and then bloody. She was terrifying and then calming. 

 

A motherly figure.

 

Just like-

 

Just like who?

 

The thought slipped by him, but it didn't escape her sharp eyes. She looked at him, smiled sadly, and then stood up chirping cheerfully. 

 

“Ready to play?” It was formed like a question, they both knew it was a demand. 

 

—

 

“How are you so sure he can defeat her?”

 

“Because, she only remains this strong and self assured from a spell.”

 

“What kind of spell?”

 

“It's a simple one, that's for sure. A spell of mania.” 

 

“Mania?” 

 

“Yes, it places her in a constant state of Mania. It allows her to never feel anything but happy and joyful.” 

 

“So if it's taken off of her..”

 

“She'll be vulnerable to all kinds of attacks, that is..”

 

“That is, what?’

 

“If she doesnt kill herself first.”

 

“Surely it's not that bad”

 

“Oh but it is. However, if she does kill herself she'll still be out of everyones hair.” 

 

“...”

 

“Isn't that what you want?”

 

“...I suppose..”

 

“Well, I suppose you should be getting back to your post.”

 

“Yes. I suppose as well. Goodbye Elenor.”

 

“Goodbye Lucas.” 

 

—

 

Owen huffed from where he stood next to Bela as she walked. Around them were marks indicating the passage of other travelers. Behind them were their own. The only one who didn't have any such marks was Bela. 

 

Owen noticed this, the others ignored it. 

 

“So, lady-” Bela tugged at the winding string around his form and he stumbled forward. He changed his form to smoke and she turned around and grabbed him by the scruff as he transformed into a harmless cat. 

“Don't call me lady.” Owen struggled out of her grasp and tumbled to the floor in a couch, now human again, how on earth did this lady’s powers work anyway? 

 

“Fine, Bela. Does that work for you?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, Bela ignored it and smiled brightly. 

 

“Yep! Ask your question now, or I’ll just read your mind and find it myself.” 

 

She can do that, Owen doubted it. 

 

“Yes, she can in fact do that, for example you've only been thinking of ways to kill me for the past five minutes along with waxing poetry about your wife,” She paused and smiled like a snake about to strike, “Elenor.” 

 

Owen lunged at her with a summoned spear; she broke it into confetti with a hand and smacked him with a pinata baton. He tumbled to the floor and sprung back up whipping out with a kunai, she laughed and it turned into acid. Burning his hand, he quickly healed it and lunged at her again with a knife. She smiled as he held it at her throat fighting against the magic preventing it from touching her skin.

 

“From one reality warper to another, you should stop while you're ahead.” 

“Yeah right, you'll tire out eventually.” 

 

“Actually, I won't!” She turned into smoke and twisted her form around him, appearing on a magical platform over top of his head.

 

“But you will.” With this she flipped down and struck him in the face with her foot, sending him flying and breaking his nose. Owen healed it and threw a punch, it connected with her abdomen and she stumbled before she lunged and grabbed him by the hair, dragging him backwards and flipping him in a judo flip. 

 

Johnny and the group watched from the sidelines as the two duked it out, blasts of bright magic flashing in the air as the moon gave way to the sun. During the fight the group could catch snippets of conversation, it seemed the two were beginning to get along. 

 

“I killed my whole family too.” 

 

“Really? How? Powers go haywire?” 

 

“Yes! How did you know?” 

 

“Happend to me too honey.” 

 

“Wow,” Bela slammed her arm into his as they stood at a standstill. “It's like we're twins.” 

 

The fight continued on, someone turned into a pig, a lion was summoned, a tsunami was created. The sun beat down on the group, it was still a comfortable temperature despite it all. 

 

A fire raged, a forest grew and died, waves and oceans spawned and dried up. Someone turned into a hawk, the other into a dragon. Someone became a pinata, they both became rocks. Overall chaos reigned supreme. 

 

As the sun began to set over the group, who sat eating summoned popcorn from Owen, the two reality warpers seemed to reach an agreement through murmured conversation. 

 

“Truce?”

 

“Truce!” 

 

—

 

The group made their way through the desert, Johnny and Rowan hung back, behind them stood Jasper and Ian who were talking in hushed tones. Before them all stood Bela and Owen who spoke animatedly with each other, clearly having some sick type of bonding over shared trauma. 

Rowan was the first to notice the change in the scenery.

 

“Hey! The weird magic rain stopped.” The group examined their surroundings, the rain had indeed stopped. Now there was just an empty and cool breeze. 

 

Just as he said that a loud rumble echoed from under the sand and a dune in front of them shot up similar to a geyser. The sand fell onto the group below the dune and covered them all with fine particles. When the dust cleared a giant hooked tentacle stood before them all. The group froze and then-

 

“Yo! What. The. Fuck.” The tentacle quickly slammed down on the ground, going straight for the source of the sound which had unfortunately been Rowan. Bela yanked him out of the way with her magic and threw a blast of electricity straight at the tentacle, hearing a shriek from under the sand she watched as more tentacles erupted from the desert beneath their feets surrounding them in a half circle. 

 

Jasper yelped and ran closer to the center, muttering spells under his breath as he fired mixtures of ice and water jets at the tentacles causing more shrieks and more tentacles to appear.

 

“The more we kill the more that appear it seems! How fun!” Bela shrieked with laughter, when Johnny looked back at her, her eyes were wide and her pupils shrunken. Her laughter was manic and shrill, Johnny felt unsettled for some reason it reminded him of something. Flashes of tears and yelling, Lucas was there and he was laughing so hard his lips felt like they'd split, why was that? The flash left as soon as it came and right then he noticed far too late a stray tentacle slamming down at the tall, and dark mage. 

 

“Jasper!” Bela shrieked and tried to teleport to the mage but another tentacle began its descent towards Johnny and now she was torn. Who does she save?

 

“Jasper?” Rowan turned to the mage, the one about to get hit, the one that-

 

Jasper.

 

His love, his life, his mage, his night sky. 

 

“Jasper!” Rowan’s voice was full of agony, his plants spiked up and grew thorns as he barreled straight for the man. Jasper turned, saw the tentacle and began to chant, he wouldn't be fast enough though, everyone knew it. His spell was halfway done when the tentacle hit with a loud booming sound. Around them the rest of the tentacles slowly sunk into the sand, the one that hit Jasper remained before slithering away, dragging something with it. 

 

When the dust cleared Johnny had dropped to his knees, tears in his eyes.

 

“Rowan?” His voice was shaky and thin, Bela dropped nearby to him ready to reassure him but she was beaten to it.

 

“WE’RE OKAY EVERYONE!” 

 

The dust cleared and Rowan and Jasper lay there on the ground, Jasper wrapped his arms around the shorter man who lay directly across his chest and stomach. They both had some scratches on them and were practically caked in dust but otherwise seemed unharmed. Jasper had lost his jacket in the fight, it was what the tentacle had dragged under the sand. 

 

Johnny let out a relieved sob and Rowan quickly untangled himself from Jasper, placing a sweet kiss on his lips before running towards Johnny and trying his best to stop the taller mans’ cries. 

 

Jasper stood shakily and Bela teleported to him, within a second the group was cleared from dust and all their relative wounds and scratches were healed. 

 

“You couldn't have done that earlier?!” 

 

“I was kind of busy y'know, trying to keep us all alive.” 

 

“...Okay you have a bit of a point there but still.” 

 

“Yknow what next time you handle it mister ‘ superior mage ’”

 

“Oh shut it!” 

 

“Mmm, nah!” 

 

“Anyway, we should go somewhere safer.” 

 

“You got any ideas?” 

 

“I have plenty!” 

 

—

 

The space around them was peaceful, a full and starry night sky overtop of a beautiful and ornate glass platform. Beneath them were islands that let starry and dark water trail down into the abyss. The stars sang quietly around them and they shined unnaturally in ways humans were never meant to see. Bela moved through the group and to the middle of the platform as though in a trance, when the stars saw her they cried with songs of rejoice. The humans covered their ears, but Bela? Oh Bela. Bela smiled. 

 

In the middle of the glass platform sat a tree with dripping and glowing golden and bleu vines, blooming with flowers humans would never discover for they were flowers that bloomed the birth of new universes. Bela stood before the large and grand tree and fell to her knees softly. The humans stood at the edge of the platform and gazed around, only Johnny dared to move closer to her followed by Ian. 

 

“Bela?” The woman hummed, the name sounded familiar to her, she didn't know why. The tree though, the tree was her focus. The tree felt so familiar, painfully so, she could just reach through and-

 

A hand touched her shoulder startling her from her thoughts.

 

“Belladonna.” Ian’s voice was firm and unyielding, Bela gasped and her eyes lost their growing blue shine. 

 

“Ian?” 

 

“What are these episodes you keep having?”

 

“I-”

 

She looked helplessly to Johnny and Ian who stared at her in vivid concern.

 

“I don't know, it's just-” she turned back to the large tree and sighed in a longing manner.

 

“It all seems so familiar .” 

 

—

 

Thea paced incessantly in front of her guards. 

 

“What do you mean you can't find her?!” Clearly she was stressed about the entire ordeal, especially since her wife was missing and there were people clearly looking for her. 

 

“We-”

 

“I don't want to hear it, search again, scan the whole damned world if you have to, but find her. Or else.” Her threat was clear, her gaze cold and iron strong. It was no question how she had become the world’s one ruling Queen. 

 

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty.” The guards rushed off in separate directions, armor clanging as they ran through the palace halls. 

 

“Bela…” 

 

“My flower, where are you?” 

 

—

“How?” Johnny questioned Bela, kneeling down at her side. She stared back at the tree. 

 

“How?” Her tone was dreamy, Ian snapped her back out of the trance again and turned her head to look at Johnny. 

 

“How is it all familiar to you?”

 

“It's like a distant dream, but it feels so real…” She sighed again and tried to turn back to the tree but Ian’s hands guided her face back to Johnny. His concerned gaze broke through her reverie and she tried her best to resist the call of the tree.

 

“I know what you mean.”

 

“You do?”

 

“It's how my memories with you feel after all, you're so familiar but I only see you in my dreams.” 

 

“I kind of forgot about that..” She laughed, it was stitled and forced. Johnny looked at her in pity. The hyper gleam came back to her eyes, the manic look and she wrenched herself from Ian's grasp to lean in and touch noses with Johnny. For some reason it felt familiar so he let her. 

 

“Are we playing another game?” She seemed like she needed it so Johnny considered his options and agreed. 

 

“Truth or Dare?” 

 

“If you insist, by all means, it'll give us something to do here.” 

 

—

 

After a few rounds of truth or dare the group began to relax a little, learning more about each other as they went. When it reached Rowan’s turn he looked at Bela already having a question forming in his mind. 

 

“Truth or Dare?” 

 

“Truth!” 

 

“Why are you so happy all the time?” 

 

Bela smiled at him, brightly and with way too much energy. Her body had been practically vibrating, and twitching since they had arrived here. She was like a ticking time bomb. 

 

“That one is easy! It's a spell!” Rowan titled his head and his bangs fell into his eyes, a spell? Even Jasper looked confused, what did she mean by that? As far as Rowan knew there shouldn't be a spell to make someone cheerful 24/7. 

 

“Huh?” Jasper sounded confused, everyone else looked it. 

 

“Yeah! A spell!” She shook her head excitedly. 

 

“Well I get that part, explain it to me.” Johnny watched the exchange intensively, clearly excited to learn something new especially about her magic and its capabilities. He had never seen anything like it before, he wanted desperately to study her. 

 

“It's a long story, do we want the short version or..” She trailed off a painted finger at her pouted lips, Jasper considered the options and looked at the empty space before them.

 

“We have the time, why not the long version.” 

 

“Alright, so...” She spread her hands and smoke filled the circle, animating tiny little puppets made of light as she told her tale. 

 

—

 

Bela sat among the wreckage of the warehouse her and her friends had been in earlier that night. Before her stood the remains of them all, mangled and scattered across the ground in a vivid display of gore. An eyeball came rolling past her knee, she didn't focus on it. The moon watched her as tears streamed down her face. She looked at her hands, they were covered in blood. 

 

Carmen, Kate, Armand, they all protected her. They all died for it too. She wasn't worth it, it was her fault everyone died if she just- if she just-

 

Gods above if she just wasn't here everyone would be safe. 

 

She sobbed and buried her face into her knees, her hair was in a loose braid Kate had done earlier. It was covered in Kate’s blood. The older woman had jumped in front of a blast meant for her. It put Bela right in the splash zone. 

 

Her outfit had been pristine and new. Picked out by Carmen, the fashionista of the group. All that remained of the tanned and taller woman was a shredded and bloodied jacket. Something she had cherished when Bela had gifted it to her earlier that week. 

 

Armand’s eye sat by her knee and stared up at her, it reflected the half eaten moon. He was the last one, he knew he would die. He told her he had lived a good life, that it was worth it to die by her side. To die for her. And then that- that thing ripped him into fine shreds. Like paper through a paper shredder. 

 

The thought made her laugh, slowly at first, then louder and shriller. The empty district of the town echoed with the sounds of her grief. 

 

A thought crossed Bela’s mind as she remembered their hotel room, the one they had bought last week. They were supposed to leave the town today. She would be leaving alone. The thought made her laughter stop. She didn't like being alone. It wasn't fun. 

 

Maybe though, maybe she didn't have to be alone. 

 

She thought of Kate, the gun she kept in her purse. Her purse was still in the hotel room. 

 

By the time authorities got there, she was gone, she wouldn't be found for a long long time after this. 

 

Bela entered the hotel room, she tracked bloodied footprints of the carpet flooring. She didn't care. She wandered over to the suite Kate had been in and rummaged through her purse, bloody handprints stained the fine leather. She didn't care. 

 

She found the gun. 

 

She checked the magazine. 

 

Loaded. 

 

She raised the gun to her head, pulled the trigger and-

 

Happy Birthday! 

 

Confetti sprang out and slammed into her hair. 

 

Her eyes were blue, pure blue, they faded and left behind a manic gleam in her brown gaze.

 

She laughed, slowly and low. Then it built, high and quick. The gun fell to the floor and turned into confetti on the way down. She laughed and laughed and laughed. 

 

Confetti.

 

How funny was that? 

 

—

 

“So, your magic put a mania spell on you to make you not kill yourself?!” 

 

Bela nodded, smiling, unaware or uncaring of the obvious horror painted on each face within the circle. 

 

“Bela..” Johnny whispered her name in sadness and horror, how could a cheerful girl have such a backstory? How could someone so happy be hiding something so dark? 

 

“Mhm?” She hummed and tilted her head, still smiling despite it all.

 

“Would you ever want to like, get rid of it?” Jasper reached a hand out to comfort her or himself as he said it nobody could tell, by the meaning behind it was obvious. 

 

“Maybe. But It’s not a good idea, I would just try it again after all!” She smiled once again causing another round of horror to pass over everyone’s faces. 

 

—

 

The game ended quickly after that whole ordeal and the group quickly decided to switch out in watches for sleep. Ian went first, nobody protested. The group settled into sleep on conjured sleeping mats from both Bela and Owen. 

 

Owen lay there in silence as the group slept, Bela lay no more than a few inches before him. It would be so easy to- 

 

But he couldn't, he couldn't do that to her. Did she really deserve it? After all, maybe she didn't even know what she was doing? But Elenor said she did, and Elenor would never lie to him. But this girl could, she could be lying, maybe the spell wasn't even real after all. Maybe it was some ploy to get everyone to pity her. Yeah, that could be likely. 

 

Owen steeled his nerves. It was her or Elenor.

 

Owen made his choice, he just had to hope he wouldn't regret it. 

 

Chapter 19: Nineteen

I never realized how much I missed home until now. The glass floor beneath us is freezing cold, each shift of my weight causing it to emit a faint squeak that echoes in the quiet night. But I can’t complain—my partner is here beside me, fast asleep, his breath steady and calm.

 

I reach out to sweep a stray black hair out of his face and hear the slight snores he gives as he subtly smiles and goes back to sleep. 

I thank the gods for bringing him back to me as I observe the galaxy above us. seeing each star and soon to be explosion for comets lulls me to sleep. I gladly close my eyes for some good slumber, already exhausted hearing Bela’s trauma and gone through some myself.

 

…

 

What’s that noise? Crying? Grunting? The sounds are faint, but unsettling, tugging at the edges of my awareness. I can’t see much in the slight awaken state, but I slowly lift myself, careful not to wake Jasper as I rise just enough to catch a glimpse of what’s happening.

What is she…doing…?

I see Bela standing near the tree of life, her face slightly  brightened by the star sky grasping a sharp knife with both hands, 

 

Her whole body is shaking like a leaf as the corners of her mouth reach a point of smiling unnaturally…it’s nothing I’ve ever seen from her as tears stained with makeup slowly drip from her eyes, trying not to wake anyone with her silent sobs.

 

“C’mon… c’mon, Belladonna! Just do it,” she mutters under her breath, her voice trembling with desperation. My pulse quickens, and I try to inch closer, careful not to make a sound. Through her hushed whisper, I hear a sudden, sharp gasp—her final breath catching in the stillness.

No…

NO

With one swift happy movement, she swings the knife upward and-

NO!!!” The scream tears from my throat before I even realize it, my body reacting on instinct. My vine-like appendages surge forward, lashing out to grip her waist and pull her hands away from the blade before it can do any more damage.

Pain flares through me as I feel my skin tear, blood trickling down my arms and staining the cold glass beneath us, but I don’t care.

The grief of her dying would hurt more than this does

 

I breathe heavily as my pinpoint eyes stare into bela’s shocked expression. my heart won’t stop palpitating…it feels like I’m going to explode.

Bela glances down, bewildered, her wide eyes taking in the sight of her lower body entangled in my vines and leaves. A harsh, manic laugh escapes from her lips, her voice trembling with hysteria, even as tears choke in the back of her throat.

“And just… what do you think you’re doing?” she gasps, struggling to catch her breath. My grip tightens, desperate, refusing to let go.

 

“Please…” her voice cracks, raw with pain. “Let me do this! I need this... I need it to s-stop!” Her hands clasp onto her face, clutching her temples as she shakes her head violently, as if trying to escape the chaos within her own mind.

The warmth that once radiated from her is now replaced with a manic energy, her eyes wide and wild.

 

Panic surges through me, my mind scrambling for a plan, but it’s blank—completely blank. My eyes dart to the group as I try to call for Jasper, but before I can, a sharp, searing pain tears through me.

 

I look down, eyes widening in shock as I see the knife slashing through my vines, cutting through the tendrils like fragile threads. My leaves fall to the glass floor, stained with my blood

 

I awkwardly chuckle…don’t tell me I die this way?

“Don’t… say anything,” she hisses, locking her eyes with mine. There’s a cold finality in her gaze, she needs this escape. “If I have to fight you to get my peace... so be it.”

Before I can react, Bela grips the knife between her teeth, her hands now free. My body tries to move but suddenly she slashes the tip of my vine, sending a fresh wave of searing pain through my body. 

 

My knees buckle beneath me, and I collapse to the ground, the starry night is swaying and swirling as I try to get through to her…huh

Pain…it must be the only thing she's feeling right now huh? 

I understand…but I can’t let myself pass out, not right now

I raise my arm as my vines coils around her  waist with as much force as I can muster and 

Knock her head against the tree…causing her to lose consciousness

My breathing is started to get hitched as I look down to see my vines shrivel back to their original state, the floor still covered with my blood

Before she closed her eyes, I saw a slight light in her eyes, her gaze softened as she slowly lost her consciousness

I could sense she was…calling out to me, thanking me 

Her head falls forward as she passes out

I start to sob uncontrollably as I retract my vines, letting them fall back to my side. The emotional strain leaves me clinging to whatever I can grasp, my heart aching with every breath.

With the last of my strength, I pull myself toward Bela’s limp form. I gather her into my arms, holding her close into a hug. The warmth is oddly comforting…like j-jasper…

I could hear gasping behind me, sensing they heard Bela hitting against the tree, 

Johnny’s voice was the last thing I heard…

I can accept this fate.

“Jasper….johnny”

“I’m…sorry”

—

 

Void woke, its body felt strange and heavy. Sleep was a concept foreign to it, or was it not foreign and was it in fact Void’s natural state. 

 

Questions were foreign to Void, Void only knew simple things. The need to hunt and hunger. To Feed and consume. It lifted its arm. There was a sword within its grasp, glowing and white. Pristine and perfect. 

 

Hunt. 

 

It looked to the platform below it. Glass and ornate. There was a group of humans swarming on it, around the Tree of Life. Void felt the urge. The urge to Hunt. 

 

To strike and kill, to rip and tear.

 

Void was awake.

 

Void had one goal.

 

Find the Fabric.

 

Return it. 

 

Hunt all those in its path. 

 

Void began its descent. 

 

The fabric stirred. 

 

—

 

Elenor smiled in satisfaction, her plan was working perfectly. 

 

Soon that bitch would be gone. 

 

And her perfect world would finally be actualized.

 

A small price to pay.

 

One life, for a perfect world. 

 

She drank from her tea cup, her favorite flavor. 

 

And she smiled.

 

—

 

Jasper stood in horror before the two crumpled forms at the base of the tree. Ian shot up from where he had seemingly fallen asleep and rushed to the tree where everyone was gathered. Johnny sat beside Bela and Rowan’s blood covered forms trying to shake them both awake. It wasn't working. 

 

“Jasper!” The call of his name shocked him from his thoughts.

 

“Can you heal them?” Jasper’s hands shook as he silently nodded. He needed to steel his nerves, he couldn't mess this up, not for his beloved mush. He cast a spell and watched as the cut and jagged ends of Rowan’s vines bloomed with fresh pink buds and into small cherry blossom flowers. Bela’s head wound disappeared in a few seconds, the blood remained however. 

 

Rowan began to stir, he seemed a bit out of it muttering Jasper and Johnny’s names and apologies under his breath repeatedly. Bela however seemed fine. Jasper wondered why the two had ended up fighting, all he had seen was Rowan throwing Bela into the tree with his vines, something Jasper hadn't even known he could do. 

 

Bela groaned and weakly tossed her head to the side, Johnny held her face gently between his hands as she stirred and came too. The stars blinked back at her when her eyes opened. Jasper felt intense dread just looking at her expression. It was so…

 

Empty.

 

Bela didn't speak, she didn't say a single word. She just stared at the stars, they reflected back in her dulled gaze. Her spark was no longer there; she just looked like a husk. Johnny whispered her name frantically, rubbing gentle circles into her cheeks. She didn't react, she just stared and breathed shallowly. 

 

Rowan stirred, groaned, and ultimately fell back asleep. The blood loss having made him tired and loopy. Owen hung back away from the group, fear and guilt radiated from him. 

 

“What happened?” Johnny asked, desperate for a solid answer, something he could figure out. Something that wasn't as complicated as the knot in his chest. 

 

“It was my fault.” 

 

“...What?” 

 

“I took the spell off of her.” 

 

“...” 

 

Johnny stood quickly and without saying a word swung a punch and broke Owen’s nose. The reality warper fell to the floor, blood dripping down his face. When he looked up Johnny had an ominous shadow over his face and a terrible grin sprouting on his lips.

 

“I should fucking kill you.”

 

Ian rushed forward and yanked Johnny back looking at Owen with disdain, he spoke to Johnny in hushed tones who continued to keep his eye on Owen through it all. His face was so full of rage, is this what Elenor saw when he tried to kill her? 

 

—

 

Bela stirred slowly, the world was muted, it sounded like everything was underwater. Her vision was weak and gray. She wanted to go back, back to her peaceful sleep. Back before everything. Before all the death, the chaos, the losses. 

 

Johnny knelt before her, he caught her eye as she blinked and leaned in with a gentle grin. She ignored the blood on his knuckles. 

 

“Hey, Bela.” Bela did not respond, why should she, why should she do anything. It was all too much, too heavy. She couldn't stand it. The thought was fleeting, her vision gained color again but it still looked dull. She could hear again, there was yelling, a slap, something breaking. 

 

When she tried to look past Johnny he moved her face back to lock eyes with him.

 

“Don't look, you don't need to, okay.” He smiled but it was laced with something, malice maybe. Some sick satisfaction of what was happening in the background at least. 

 

She ignored him and reached out, briefly touching the minds behind him, Owen and Ian. Ian was hitting Owen roughly, a rage she had never seen present behind his actions. She moved, finally. Her limbs felt like weights, her vision shook with static, she turned into smoke and slowly swirled around Owen. 

 

“Are you alright?” 

 

Owen looked at her, covered in blood and bruises as she gently swept a hand over him fixing all his injuries. He looked shocked, so did the others. Rowan began to stir and Jasper quickly turned his attention to the mush. 

 

“Why-”

 

“I- I don't know, I like helping people, I suppose that's why.” Bela smiled, gentle and real. There were streaks of ruined makeup on her cheeks. Tear stains. Owen felt even guiltier at the sight, he ruined her didn't he. They were bonding weren't they and now- 

 

Bela smiled at him interrupting his thoughts.

 

“Dear, prieten, don't cry.” 

 

Owen, Owen didn't know what to do. It seemed the others didn't either. Except of course for Rowan who could not read a room. 

 

“Are you the reason Bela tried to kill herself again?” Rowan’s voice was desolate of cheer, it was ice cold and frozen. He looked for all the world like he was going to blow up Owen, he very well could. 

 

“She did what?! Is that why you fought her?” Jasper sounded horrified and shocked all at once, awe leaked in under it likely at the sight of his boyfriends capabilites. Rowan nodded solidly and stalked forward towards Owen. Bela’s eyes began to unfocus and her mind drifted away, it was much more peaceful to simply not be here right now. 

 

Owen reached out and held her hand.

 

“Stay right here, sugar.” 

 

Bela stayed. 

 

Rowan did not move forward anymore, he let them talk. It seemed the two were having some sort of telepathic conversation. He didn't doubt that they could do it. By the end of it Bela seemed more lively. She whispered something under her breath and her eyes lit up blue and bold. When it faded she smiled, gentle and real. Then broad and wide. 

 

She looked back at the tree and waved a hand, the blood disappeared. Bela hefted herself to her feet, ignoring her bloodied nightgown and offered a hand to Owen. He took it and let her heave him up to his own feet. 

 

As she opened her mouth a plethora of whispers surrounded the group, Bela’s eyes once so bright went glazed and unfocused. Her head lolled to the side and she stumbled, Owen caught her and tugged her close to his side as he gazed around. 

 

Behind them a voice, no, a mixture of voices, spoke clearly. 

 

“Hand over The Fabric, or perish.” 

 

The group whirled around, before them stood a figure. They couldn't see much through the darkness swirling around it but one thing they could see was the eyes. The many many eyes staring right at them. The figure hefted up its sword and pointed it directly at the group.

 

“Belladonna Dumitrescu must die.” 

 

And then it sprinted forward.

 

—

 

Johnny lunged backwards as Void thrust the sword where he had been standing, he had heard about this creature, but from who? Either way it didn't matter, he had enough knowledge to not die at least. 

 

Ian lunged forward and threw a solid hit with his shadow arm at the creature, it made contact and the eyes wailed. When the well of shadows around it dimmed down they could see a figure. A dark skinned person with a shadowed face, white voids in place of their eyes. Geometric blocks of locs and braids made up their hair and a white pulsing eye decorated their neck flicking widely between all the group members before locking in on Bela from where she stood still dazed. 

The figure moved forward impossibly fast when it reached Owen and Bela it was met with two pebbles on the ground, one had a large blue bow on it. Johnny would have laughed had the situation not been so dire. Quickly Johnny moved forward grabbing at the silver chestplate the figure wore and throwing it backwards. The metal felt like burning ice to touch and he ignored how his fingers had blackened after touching the plate. 

 

Embers swirled around his fingers as they quickly healed, Johnny grabbed the pebbles and shoved them in his pocket, they shifted back to human forms; granted they were still small, almost mouse sized. 

 

Owen peeked out from the pocket, slinging Bela over his shoulder and jumped out, shifting back to a human form and turning Bela into a small porcelain doll. 

 

“This should get that thing off our tail.” And then he broke into a dead sprint towards the other side of the platform. Johnny and Ian rushed back to where Jasper and Rowan were flinging a mixture of chemicals and spells at the creature to help fight. The creature formed a shield of eyes and threw it directly at Ian who caught it with his shadowed hand but dropped it almost as quickly as he caught it when they yelled at him. 

 

“ WHY DID YOU LET HIM DIE?!” 

 

Ian flinched back and looked at Johnny desperately as though reassuring himself that he was still there, this moment cost him precious seconds as Void spun around and delivered a strong blow with its booted feet directly to Ian's temple. Ian crumpled to the ground like a broken puppet, Johnny screamed and reached out for him. 

 

Void spun back around and leveled a spiked arm brace at his head, Johnny leaned back and bared his teeth in a growl.  Dodging the hit Johnny spun his momentum into a roll sweeping down at Void’s feet and sending it stumbling backwards. The sword dug into the glass platform and broke through it, the platform acted as though it were jello and morphed around the object. 

 

Rowan leaped at Void from behind and landed on its shoulders, he pulled  a large bomb from his mushroom and shoved the bomb in between the chest plate and the top Void wore before flipping back off of Void and yelling for everyone to duck for cover. The bomb exploded, the dust and smoke cleared and Johnny’s ears rang. 

 

Jasper waved away the smoke with a spell and when it cleared there remained nothing in the space Void had once occupied. 

 

“I think we did it..?” 

 

On the other side of the platform a shrill scream echoed, full of pain and agony. 

 

They didn't do it. 

 

Void continued its hunt. 

 

—

 

Owen lay on the ground, his arm bloodied and nearly detached from his shoulder. He tried his best to protect Bela’s limp form from where it laid on the glass platform behind him. Void brough its sword up and flipped it using the pommel to slide him across the floor. 

 

Void approached Bela, stalking forward softly. Its sword dragged dangerously across the glass floor and new patterns of frost wove across the platform from its trail. Bela looked at it with dazed eyes, her gaze far away not really seeing much of anything. She didn't react as it held the sword over her chest, her still beating heart. She waited with held breath as it pressed the tip of the blade to her skin, burning ice piercing her heart. 

 

—

 

Johnny sat in his lab, examining his newest test subject when he felt a presence behind him. 

 

“Boo!” A woman's voice exclaimed cheerfully, quickly and on instinct alone he grabbed for the scalpel on the table in front of him, the one he had put aside for later dissection of his subject. 

 

He whirled around plunging it down at the dark skinned woman's throat, she smiled at him and the scalpel turned to paper shreds. 

 

“Whoopsie! Maybe I shouldn't have done that.” 

 

Who was this woman and why was she here? How did she get here? And without him hearing too? Surely he hadn't been that involved in his work. And how did she turn that scalpel to paper? 

 

“I'm a reality warper, silly! You've heard of those, right?” 

 

Did she just read his mind?

 

“Yep! Another power of mine, that means we can have so much fun together, right Johnny?” 

 

I need to study her, Johnny decided. The woman laughed and hopped up on a free table, nodes floating and placing themselves on her body. She smiled at him as the screens burst to life. 

 

“So, what do you want to know?” Johnny grabbed for his notebook nearby on a discarded gurney and began to quiz her mentally. She answered each question cheerfully and without complaint. 

 

“I know how to get him back, y’know.” 

 

Johnny turned around, eyes lighting with a malicious glint. A hunting gaze. 

 

How?

 

She smiled at him. 

 

“Let’s be friends Johnny, You can call me…”

 

—

 

“BELA!” 

 

The sword was flung back as Johnny ran forward and threw himself onto it, it burned and froze his skin all at once and fire swirled around his body as his abilities tried to catch up with the damage being done. Jasper muttered a spell as she reached the two crumpled forms and wretched the sword from Johnny, throwing it over the platform and down into the abyss. Void ran forward and dove after the sword, they didn't hear any sounds after this.

 

Bela felt cold, her chest burned with each breath in and out. Her chest ached, her veins felt dead frozen inside, like there was no blood pumping. 

 

Owen crawled forward, his powers wouldn't heal his arm, maybe it was that sword's capabilities that stopped it from happening. Jasper muttered a quick spell and summoned a thick pair of bandages to wrap around the mangled flesh putting it into a makeshift cast. 

 

Rowan leaned overtop of Bela’s static form. He spoke to her and his tail wound around her legs, she couldn't hear anything he said. Her mind was still in a deep fog. She was just so tired. Surely it wouldn't hurt to rest her eyes, just for a moment. Right? 

 

—

 

Innocence skipped through the messy halls before her, they were twisting and turning with each move she made. After a while she found her way to a door, simply compared to the twisting wonderland hall of tricks and taps. She knocked, once and twice. The door opened into a beautiful music room with a large oak piano in the middle. 

 

Windows let in blinding light and illuminated a woman who lay upside down on the top of the piano. The woman sat up and did a flip off the piano landing in front of Innocence. 

 

“Why're you here honey?” The child looked at her before pointing at the piano and miming playing it. The woman smiled. 

 

“Cmon, you know you don't have to ask Insanity to do anything. Go hog wild kid.” The child smiled brightly and the woman smiled with a manic glee as she flocked over to a window seat and watched the kid play a haunting melody on the piano with bright blue eyes. 

 

The room shifted and swirled when Innocence opened her eyes again she was on a bright sandy beach. The sand was pink with red hearts all over it. Her feet made no dents when she walked over to another woman. This woman had heart shaped eyes, and a heart shaped face. Makeup of red and white decorated her and she wore a tropical beach outfit with red roses in her hair. 

 

“Love?” 

 

Love turned around from where she eyed the giant setting eyeball in place of the sun and patted the ground beside her, Innocence quickly sat down and attentively listened to the woman as she spoke. 

 

“Go find Rage, she'll help you get to the room you need to go, now don't be late darling. You're very important to this whole shebang.” 

 

Innocence nodded and stood up running back up the sand dunes, when she turned around the room was dark, when she turned back again the room had become a destroyed warehouse. 

 

Rage stood in front of her, her ripped bat wings hovered behind her and flexed with every minute movement of her body. 

 

She whirled around as the child moved closer.

 

“The hell do you want brat?” 

 

Innocence looked at her pleading and she sighed, her ruined ball gown moved with her as she walked forward, her legs peeking out from under the ripped skirts and her hair perched high under a red bloodied veil. 

 

“Find brat, but never again, got it?” She bent down, her bloodied and bruised hands cupping Innocence’s tiny face as she placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. When Innocence blinked she was where she was supposed to be. 

 

The fabric stood before her, regal as always with an air of divinity. Innocence bounded forward and hugged her at her knees, the skirts bunched under her tiny fists. 

 

“Mama!” 

 

“Hm, you were almost late sweetheart, now are you ready to learn my message?” 

 

Innocence nodded ecstatically and looked up at the ready for The Fabric’s words. 

 

“Go find those humans Belladonna holds so dear, tell them they mustn't let Void ascend her, she's far too fragile. And such a fate is far too cruel for her, no matter how much we wish to reunite with Void.” 

 

Innocence nodded firmly, her tiny cheeks puffed up as she saluted the taller woman. The Fabric laughed softly and brushed her knuckles across the girl's cheek.

 

 “Go, my child, we’ll see you soon, alright.” 

 

The Fabric watched her go and sighed softly before turning back to her altar behind her, the lagoon shone brightly. Far brighter than it should have. 

 

“Belladonna, We hope you may have enough time to hold on, we don't wish for you to leave so soon. We don't wish to leave them so soon.” 

 

—

 

Johnny came to in brief flashes.

 

Ian was above him and then he wasn't. 

 

Bela lay across from him and then beside him.

 

The group was separated and then they weren't.

 

Wait.

 

Bela?

 

Bela?! 

 

Johnny rushed up and immediately regretted it, the burns from the sword still present and slightly stinging. The group surrounded him in a semi circle, Bela lay limply beside him breathing shallowly. Her nightgown was torn and bloodied still, the bow was frozen in place and the skin under it was blackened and frozen at the edges. 

 

“Is it?” 

 

“It's over.” 

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“For now.” 

 

“Besides that, how do you feel?” Ian asked him concern and love, lacing his eyes, Johnny winced and felt at his chest where the burning was most prominent. At his hands touch embers swirl around him and the pain lessened. 

 

“I've certainly been better.” Ian chuckled lowly, Johnny blushed a bit at the sound, oh how he loved it when he made the other man laugh. It made him feel like he was on top of the world. The brief fleeting thought brought with it pain as he remembered what Elenor had done to him, what she took from him. 

 

He couldn't believe she'd go to such lengths, and for what? Why did she do it if it was Bela they were after? The thoughts caused a knot in his chest, something incomprehensible besides the singular feeling of bad. He shoved it down and focused on the good, there'd be time to figure out those emotions later. 

 

Looking to the side he saw Bela again, she seemed so small, so powerless. That wasn't something he’d ever associated with her before. He didn't like that he was doing it now. 

 

Bela stirred slowly, her eyes opened and they reflected the stars. They looked completely inhuman, Johnny didn't like that either. 

 

She turned to lock eyes with him, smiled and said a few simple words that turned his blood to ice.

 

“I have a message for you.” 

 

Johnny froze, her eyes still looked far off and glazed, who was this person before him? It surely wasn't Bela, Bela didn't speak like that, all honeyed and innocent. 

 

Innocent.

 

“Innocence?” 

 

“Bingo!” She laughed a little, then hissed as it pulled at the frozen skin on her chest.  

 

“Innocence?” The others gathered around him looking at Bela in poorly hidden concern and dread. 

 

“An aspect of her mind? But how-” 

 

“The Fabric sent me.” 

“What? Who’s ‘The Fabric?’” Owen was clearly out of the loop, Johnny didn't have the time to explain it to him. 

 

“A god, a very very old God. Creation and Destruction and everything in between. The Universe itself.” Owen found he didn't quite like this answer, and moved closer to Bela, likely trying to find a way to snap her out of her daze, or maybe finding a way to heal her from the ice. 

 

“The Fabric wants me to tell you something.” Innocence propelled Bela’s arm forward and grabbed at Johnny’s arm in a tight and unnatural grasp. 

 

“Whatever you do, don’t let Belladonna get killed by that sword. Do. No. Let. Her. Ascend. She’s too fragile for it.” 

 

Johnny grabbed Innocence's hand, her grip was beginning to hurt and bruise his skin.

 

“What do you mean? What Ascension, What's going on with that creature?” 

 

Innocence let go of his arm abruptly and it fell limply to the floor, the glowing blue began to envelop Bela’s eyes again. Innocence was losing her grip. 

 

“It's here.” 

 

“Run.” 

 

—

 

A hand slammed down on the edge of the platform, a body swung over the edge and landed harshly onto the glass. A sword, white and pristine emitting some type of smoke slammed into the platform and cracked it. The cracks did not spread, they stopped just before Bela’s limp form. 

 

“Rejoice humans! For you shall be granted the great honor of dying in the spirit of The Fabric!” Void spoke roughly, its voice booming around the space. The tree trembled with the force of it. The stars sang louder, had they been singing this entire time? 

 

Owen grabbed Bela's form and turned them into robin birds, Jasper picked them up in his cupped hands and turned the other way running from the creature while throwing blasts of magic behind him covering their tracks. As Void stepped forward Rowan threw bottles of corrosive chemical at the creature, the creature simply shrugged them off however. 

 

Johnny raced forward, grabbed at Void and threw a quick left hook at its shadowed face, when his embers caught on its cheek it howled in pain. Johnny quickly found himself being thrown into The Tree of Life, his head felt fuzzy and he couldn't hear anything. It was all a ringing in his ears. 

 

Behind him were screams, his embers swirled around him again and the world sharpened in painful clarity. Owen yelled again and raced past him totting a plush with a suspiciously large bow. When he found the stretching in hilton stand the group stood in front of him, all various versions of injured. 

 

Jasper had a bleeding mark across his chest that wouldn't heal, Rowan was missing some of his newly grown vines, and his leg was bleeding sluggishly, Owen’s makeshift brace was falling to pieces under the strain of carrying Bela’s limp form. He placed her gently on the ground against the tree and quickly threw blasts of fire at the creature that stood opposite to them. 

 

Johnny hurried to his feet and stood in front of Bela, ready to shield her from the creature, if his embers could hurt it then maybe- just maybe- 

 

The thought was cut out as the world around them was awash with blue.

“Stop.” 

—

Chapter 20: Twenty

Ian found himself the only one not immobilized, maybe because he had been hidden by the tree. He crept around and watched as Bela lay limply against the tree, no one else could move, frozen by her spell. Void stalked close, its feathered skirt dragged against the ground with its sword. Its large wings spread imposingly behind it. 

 

Ian looked around and noticed the cracked floor, maybe-

 

He ran forward, wrenched the sword from the creature and stabbed it into the ground. Cracks erupted and spread on the platform and soon enough. 

 

They

 

          Were 

 

                      All

 

                             Falling 

 

                                          Down.

—-

 

“Bela.”

 

“Bela.”

 

“Bela!”

 

“ BELA!”

 

The woman woke up, she didn't know where she was, she didn't know the people around her. She just knew she was far from home. 

 

Home?

 

What a strange word, the woman had never heard such a word before.

 

What is a Home?

 

The people around her, were they a Home? 

 

What makes a Home?

 

The people or the place?

 

This place felt like the word, Home. 

 

But the people, oh the people, they embodied it. 

 

But the woman was tired, she was so dreadfully tired. She wanted the company of those stars again, those wonderful forever companions. The stars that sang her to sleep and let her dance among them. That treated her as their kin even though she was so very different. 

 

A creature slammed into the ground behind her. Void. her other half. The woman smiled. Her other half is here to take her Home? How poetic. 

 

—

 

Johnny stirred, he couldn't move, the last thing he remembered was-

 

Ian!

 

He glanced around anxious and for all the word alarmed, his gaze landed on Ian who lay across from him. The gravity felt crushing as he tried to crawl to Ian’s unconscious form, Rowan stirred nearby Jasper. Halfway through his fight against gravity Johnny became all too aware of hushed speaking. Her turned his head and there-

 

Bela and-

 

Void!

 

The creature stood a few feet away from Bela, its sword held high and they spoke in a hushed language Johnny could not understand, it sounded ancient. Like everything and nothing, space and time, the ocean and the wind. 

 

Bela looked back at them, her eyes reflected stars that were not there, it was inhuman. Johnny found he didn't like it much. Because he knew it meant Bela wasn't there at all. 

 

Rowan groaned and tried to stand up, he was crushed back down onto the floor, Johnny moved and tried his best to force his body up. Straining against the force pushing him down he crawled forward, Rowan grabbed at his ankle and soon enough he was dragging them both forward closer and closer to Bela. 

 

Bela- whoever she was- the woman- The Fabric- SOMEONE

The woman smiled at him, she turned her back to Void and grabbed the ends of her bloodied and ruined nightgown. Bowing her body into a deep curtsey towards him. Johnny fought harder against gravity, he dragged himself forward till his hands began to bleed. Rowan pushed them forward with his booted feet. 

 

—

 

“Will you accept our absence?”

 

“No.”

 

“That's no good, You must accept our absence.”

 

“No, you must accept my answer.” 

 

—

 

“Have you accepted it yet?”

 

“Accepted what? ”

 

—

That you cannot save everyone?

—

 

The woman curtsied towards the man.

 

The man howled with grief unspoken, the shorter of the two men yelled some words that made no sense to her.

 

Bela, stay with us!

 

Who was this Bela they spoke of?

 

Bela?

 

The word was familiar, on the tip of the woman's tongue.

 

She shook her head and laughed like bells. 

 

She wanted to sleep, it was time.

 

Time for her final dance. 

 

—-

 

The woman turned around, she reached for her partner. Void took her hand gracefully, gently, full of love and words unspoken. For they did not need words, they simply were. And so she understood Void and Void understood her. That is how it was, that is how it shall be. 

 

The men watched, dragging themselves through the crushing grief, the oppressive weight of human emotion and suffering. 

 

The woman was free from her human shell, it erupted around them all, she was no longer held down by human desire and experience. She had lived as a human, she would die as one. That was enough for her. 

 

She ignored the nudging voice in her mind, the one that said.

 

I wish not to die. 

 

She danced a twirled, spun forwards to her partner. Her partner held her, gently lifted her and twirled her around in dizzying circles. With each spin came a gentle and swift slash from its pristine sword. 

 

Blood spilled, splashed across the water they danced on. The stars reflected in her dimming eyes as the blood stained her dress. Tears fell in thick lines down her face, lingering on her lashes like dewdrops. 

 

I wish not to die.

 

The voice grew weaker with each spin and turn.

 

I wish not to die.

 

The men reached her feet.

 

I wish not to die.

 

The men grabbed her bloodied legs, their hands would be stained cherry red from this day forward.

 

I wish not to..

 

She looked at them as her tears fell like falling stars.

 

I wish not…

 

She looked at them as her eyes faded from warm honeyed brows to dark and deep oaks. 

 

I wish..

 

They held onto her, the crushing weight lifting slightly, They hugged at her waist and tried to tug her from the Void. 

 

I…

 

Void lifted its sword, mercy in its gaze as it delivered the final bow. 

 

The sword cut through her flesh.

 

Sacrificial lamb.

 

Is that what she was? 

 

What was it she wished?

 

To sleep?

 

She couldn't remember.

 

Her final thoughts were filled with cries and screams, joyful ballads of stars and tearful laments of friends she’d never see again. 

 

Belladonna Dumitrescu died.

 

Age Twenty-Five.

 

To the sound of her closest friends screams. 

 

—

A woman stood before them, she wore a white billowing dress. 

 

There was a large lace bow, in her dark curls. 

 

Johnny stepped forward. Rowan moved forward as well. 

 

Bela? 

 

The woman turned around. She smiled at them.

 

“Don't cry, dragul meu.” 

 

“Dry your tears.”  

 

“How?”

 

“I’m still here aren't I?” 

 

“...”

 

“I lived, I loved, I left a legacy. Oh how beautiful it is to be human. How scary it is too. To love something that can die. I applaud you.” The woman fell into a deep bow. There was clear rippling water around her feet. 

 

“That’s not enough.” 

 

“But it'll have to be. After all…”

 

The water was red now, her dress was white, she was covered in blood and arms rose from the water to grasp at her waist and legs. 

 

“To be human is to die, is it not?” 

 

—

 

There were simple facts in life.

 

Johnny lived by these facts, these rules, these things he could understand and control. 

 

Fact One : Johnny would do anything for those he loves.

 

Fact Two : Johnny cannot save the ones he loves.

 

Fact Three : Johnny will always lose the ones he loves. 

 

The floor under him was made of clear water, it reflected nothing, not even him. Rowan sat beside him, black dahlias blooming from his vines. His cuts were healed, their injuries were like it had never existed. When Johnny moved his head to glance up he found his hair brushing the floor beneath him. He didn't care. 

 

She was there.

 

But he knew it wasn't her.

 

Not the her that he wanted, the one he needed. 

 

It was just a facsimile of her, but it couldn't never be her for the smile that aura it wasn't human.

 

It held no traces of her, no recognition, no warmth. 

 

It was just-

 

There. 

 

The figure moved forward in her long sweeping gown of stars, her nine pairs of wings opened with a flourish behind her, her hair hid her eyes from sight. Her face held no expression at all. And her bangles made no sound as she spread her arms. 

 

“Cherished souls. Rejoice! For you shall be the first to be born in a perfect world!” 

 

—

 

Thea stood before The fabric, Johnny and Rowan were kneeling off to the side. Jasper and Ian rushed over to them assuming the worst, Thea heard them when they said. 

 

“Bela died.” 

 

No.

 

No.

 

No.

 

Surely she didn't, it must be a mistake because she stood before her. But deep down Thea knew it wasn't her wife, because she didn't hold the same stance as she gazed at them all. 

 

She didn't have the same warmth, the same presence, she wasn't her wife.

 

Bela was gone.

 

—

 

The Fabric wanted to fix the world. 

 

Fix the balance.

 

Cirreo and Elias watched from the sidelines, Maia stood aside from them. Elenor watched it all from her small tea table. 

 

The group of humans stood before the Gods. They were unaware of their presence. 

 

The Fabric spread her arms. 

 

“Free will. It’s become a problem. The pain of humanity is not worth it anymore. I shall bring you peace.” 

 

“How?” 

 

“I shall take it all away, you will live in a world where there is only happiness, no free will to leave things up to fate. No free will to lead to tragedy. I will save you the pain of the human experience and offer you only the joy.” 

 

Johnny found he didn't care much about tis plan. Free Will being taken away? He didn't give a damn. But Bela? He cared a lot more about that. He cared a lot more about her being sacrificed in front of him for a ‘perfect world’ 

 

He would find a way to stop this. Not for humanity, but for her. After all, what are friends for, right Bela? 

 

Chapter 21: Twenty One

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Johnny got up from his kneeling position, oddly enraged . His mind bustled with the torment he’d just witnessed, now being offered a feigned happiness after all of their collective struggling…

 

“What’s joyous about that?” Johnny muttered. 

 

The Fabric lowered her arms slowly. “Dear Johnny, whatever do you mean?”

 

“No free will. There is no joy within the lack of free will.”

 

“But there is . You see, free will shall no longer plague humanity with even the option to suffer. You shall be free of such horrid decisions.”

 

“The ability to decide is what gives humanity happiness! The satisfaction of the consequences of each decision that shapes the life of an individual! That’s where our happiness comes from!”

“That satisfaction,” The Fabric advanced towards Johnny, “does not reside in every decision, dear soul. How might you argue such a thing for the dis satisfaction? The decisions you dread, the decisions you are forced to accept? Dire situations bare no satisfaction.”

 

“Not on their own,” Johnny stepped forward. He heard a small hum, realizing Elenor was present, among others that reminded him of Rowan. When did that happen?

 

It was the Fabric. Could’ve happened at any moment. Johnny wanted to attack Elenor just then, but he had a point to prove. 

 

That was his purpose in life, he felt. To prove points. To prove people wrong .

 

“You cannot truly know satisfaction, nor happiness, unless you have endured the agony that entails from dissatisfaction.” Johnny’s eyes met The Fabric’s face, both unwavering as their debate intensified.

 

“That agony is precisely what takes away from the happiness of the human experience.” The Fabric’s hands folded over one another. Calm, collected. “True happiness need not be earned. If all of your experiences need to pass through various trials of suffering to create any semblance of fruition, is that truly happiness? Or is it merely ease from the weight of pain?”

 

“Would you not feel any happiness from said ease? That is exactly what I’m saying! The ease of pain carves the way for happiness to blossom.”

 

“And if it does not? Humans love to dwell on their agony.”

 

“And they also love to survive in sheer spite. Humanity dwells, yes, but they still find ways to move past their qualms.”

 

“Not everyone.” The Fabric lifted her head, as though looking above. Johnny swore he could see eyes, like stars dying and nebulas being birthed, but the sight was fleeting. 

 

“Bela. A perfect example. Depression ails your kind, Johnny. The ache for death, that is not happiness.”

 

“That ache is brought by the notion of peace. Suicide, beyond morality’s influence, is merely an option to achieve happiness in the form of peace from reality. It’s a sense of relief, that ache.”

 

“That act. Suicide. It then creates a chain reaction, much like what your group displayed here earlier. A reaction of misery, downfall. Agony .”

 

“You are only considering the immediate reaction. There are stages to grief, you should be well aware of that. The surrounding people within that chain reaction will each find their ways out differently and reach the same end of happiness because free will would grant them the option to navigate grief on a personal scale, much like how their relationship with the dead is personalized.”

 

“I am considering all possible reactions,” the Fabric spoke. “My conclusion is that such possible reactions must be eradicated so as to achieve pure happiness.”

 

Rowan was horribly confused. He knew Johnny was smart, but this wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen out of him before. He was literally holding a debate with what was essentially existence , and it sounded like he had a chance.

 

The others behind Johnny were no less astonished. They tried to keep up with the conversation, desperately rushing to decipher each side’s logic.

 

Where would the other gods stand? Did they all want the same thing?

Jasper was itching to pick a fight with them, particularly Cirro and Elias. How could they have guided him, only to be sitting idly by that bitch? She nearly stole Rowan’s memory of everything he’d worked so hard towards.

 

“How might you distinguish happiness from suffering, Johnny?” The Fabric spread her hands once again. “When you are clouded by suffering, how might you find room for joy?”

 

“When you’ve been forced to have joy as one sole emotion, how are you to distinguish that from being numb?”

 

Both Johnny and the Fabric seemed to consider each other’s words. A terrible standoff, indeed. 

 

She turned away from Johnny, her attention shifting to Rowan. His heart dropped. He was not good at this, especially not the way Johnny was handling it.

 

“You, too, fought to keep Bela, did you not?”

 

“I-I did.”

 

“Do you side with Johnny on this matter, dearest mush?”

 

“Yes,” Rowan said quickly. His heart was pounding .

 

“Then defend.”

 

Johnny turned to give Rowan a curious glance, but the mush only started stammering.

 

He started to feel tingly. Maia, was his mushroom gonna fall off again? He’d surely die…

 

“Uh…uh… weed! ”

 

The room fell silent, spare Elenor clearing her throat. Was she laughing at him?

 

“Excuse us?”

 

“Weed! I love the stuff,” he chuckled nervously. “It makes me so happy. If we had none of that free will business, then I couldn’t have my weed!”

 

“There would be no such necessity, nor such craving to satiate had free will not be involved.”

 

“But where’s the fun in that?!” Rowan’s tail began to flick wildly. “That’s part of what makes me me! If I can’t do what makes me myself, what’s gonna separate me from anyone else? We’re all just gonna be one big hivemind!”

 

“I do not find an issue in your statement. You would all still be collectively happy.”

 

Johnny nudged Rowan, grinning wildly. “Free will being gone would eradicate humanity! ”

 

The room once again fell into palpable silence as the Fabric considered Johnny’s statement.

 

“And how so?” The Fabric mused. “You would still exist.”

 

“The very image of humanity is diversity. It’s culture, it's the shared experiences, it’s the different opinions, the ability to compare and relate to one another. To form bonds with one another based on different experiences driven by free will that led to the same path! Humanity is flawed, our worlds are flawed because we are. Humanity is individuality. And if you dare think a loss of individuality through mind manipulation into incessant happiness is a perfect world, it is a dystopia .”

 

Rowan looked at Johnny in pure shock. How the hell did he start a rant off of his weed-driven ramble?!

 

Johnny continued passionately, fervently, almost as if speaking on one sole breath,

 

“A perfect world allows for all possibilities. A perfect world would not shun out nor control, wouldn’t pick and choose what a population should experience based on one preference. That is the textbook definition of a dystopia! Our individuality is what allows us to have even the good parts of human experience, the ones you want us to have. Love, you can’t have that without the free will to even form the bond. That bond would not come out of happiness alone, let me tell you that . Love can only form when you’ve suffered together, when you’ve endured one another’s mistakes and used your free will to move past them. Love is only created when you can value the various experiences, bad and good, of another individual. Love is happiness and it is suffering, it is suffering together, it is suffering for one another, and if you think I’d rather have some facade shrouded in a euphemism called happiness over the authentic love and happiness I’d gain from having Bela at our side once again, then you are sorely mistaken! ”

 

The Fabric almost seemed… stunned .

 

“Is that truly your stance, Johnny?”

 

“I wouldn’t have it had I not had free will.”

 

The Fabric paused for a moment, then her head lowered. “Then I’m afraid I cannot deny you your joy.”

 

Rowan watched Johnny’s manic, passionate smile grow. 

 

“Thank you, dear souls, for your audience.” The Fabric held up her arms, wings spreading, in a graceful bow.

 

“Enjoy the human experience.”

 

Chapter 22: Twenty Two

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Everyone watched as the Fabric contorted, convulsed, and fell to the ground heavily. She almost looked possessed, writhing on the floor in between harsh twitches. Each convulsion brought strangely familiar gashes ripping through her skin. She coughed, and plumes of glittering smoke emerged from her mouth. Stardust?

 

Her hair came undone, sprawling out as her halos began to crack and dim along with the stars encased in her dress. Her dress seemed to disintegrate, revealing a bloodied nightgown underneath.

 

The convulsions stopped. Silence ensued. Rowan fell to his knees, crawling to Bela’s body. She did not bleed, she did not stir. Her wife wailed, joining Rowan.

 

If only Johnny had the magic for necromancy. 

 

Rowan held Bela’s upper half to his chest, coiling his tail around her as he began to rock the pair. Johnny heard heavy clunking footsteps behind him, turning around to find an angry Jasper storming straight towards the gods.

 

“ You . ”

He stopped in front of Cirro and Elias. Cirro smiled at him, his usual smile. Elias only gave him a blank expression.

 

“What was the meaning of all of this?!”

 

“What do you mean?” Cirro smoothed his robes. “Her death?”

 

“You’re here. You had some kind of involvement, did you not?”

 

“And what of it?” Elias tilted his head, blinking with annoyance. “What we do should not concern mortals.”

 

“It does when we’re directly involved!”

 

“It was for your own good,” Cirro said. He took a glance at Elenor that she reciprocated, a glance that Johnny couldn’t help but notice. “She was far too dangerous, meddling in the affairs of the gods.”

 

“Well maybe you gods are just stuck up pieces of shi-”

 

“ Jasper ,” Cirro laughed. His voice melted into a dreamy sigh. “We cannot grant you things for your own bias. We have to consider the bigger picture.”

 

“And yet you kept my world out of your own bias,” Jasper gritted lowly. “Fucking hypocrite.”

 

“Would you rather I erase it?” Elias stood up, with Cirro following. For once, the emotions typical of each god’s face was switched. A daunting sight. 

 

Elias stood face to face with Jasper, tail whipping around. They both had such sharp glares, such dark demeanors. 

 

“We helped you live , Jasper,” Elias murmured, face mere centimeters from Jasper’s. He trailed his hands gently along Jasper’s arms, stopping when he reached his shoulders. Jasper could feel the intense magic pooled in Elias’s hands, it felt like pure destruction. It felt like death. He narrowed his eyes at Elias, hoping the other man wouldn’t catch him falter at his unspoken threat.

 

“You killed someone in the process.” Contain yourself, Jasper . “You. Hurt . Rowan.”

 

His whisper only made Elias’s smile spread. For being a god capable of destruction, his smile barely registered as sinister. It was more warm, like Cirro’s. Jasper felt Elias’s hands tighten where they rested on his shoulders.

 

“He won’t stay hurt for long,” Elias whispered back. “He has you back now. He doesn’t need her.”

 

Jasper considered this for a moment. His eyes trailed back to Rowan, who still had his tail coiled around Bela’s limp body. He seemed to be in his own world, rocking back and forth as he sat with her. He didn’t even seem to notice Thea sobbing in her wife’s lap.

 

“Can I ask you something, Eli? ”

 

Elias’s face turned cold, colder than Jasper had ever seen from him before. He slid his hands back down Jasper’s arms, crossing his own. His voice matched impeccably.

 

“ What? ”

 

“Did you side with her?” He nodded his head in Elenor’s direction, seeing her narrow her eyes at him. 

 

“ Side with her? Our interests just so happened to align. She wanted to get rid of her, we hated her…It was only fair.”

 

Jasper nodded, turning away from Elias as he took this in. Johnny, having watched all of this, thought their exchange would have ended on a decent note based on their body language.

 

That is, until Jasper socked Elias in the jaw.

 

Elias stumbled backwards, startling Maia and Elenor when he bumped into their table. Cirro rushed to his side, and Johnny rushed to Jasper’s.

 

“What are you doing?! ”

 

“These bastards worked with that whore over there!”

 

Jasper pointed at Elenor, ignoring all else.

 

“You wanted her gone. You took Rowan’s memories of me, you ruined his life! You killed her!”

 

What?

 

Johnny recalled the thoughts he’d buried what seemed like forever ago. How she’d go to such extremes, but for what?

 

Now he had his what. It all made sense now.

 

Johnny abandoned Jasper’s side, advancing towards Elenor. He felt a strong tug on his arm that stopped him.

 

“Johnny,” Owen urged. “Don’t hit her, please don’t.”

 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Johnny faced Owen, trembling with rage. “She was behind everything .”

 

Owen fell silent, panic in his eyes as he looked back at Elenor.

 

His wife.

 

Right.

 

“You still love her,” Johnny whispered. “Don’t you, Owen?”

 

He felt Owen’s grip on his arm loosen. He looked broken.

 

“Owen?” Her voice sent a new spike of rage surging through Johnny. 

 

“Ev. Ev, Elenor, please. You’re in the same position as us, ain’t you, hon? Fighting off these gods?”

 

She sighed, shaking her head slowly. “Forgive me, Owen.”

 

“F-forgive? Hon, what are ya saying?”

 

“I am a god,” she chuckled softly. “The god of Life, so to speak.”

 

“You’re jokin’.”

 

“No, Owen. I’m telling you the truth. Why do you think I’m psychic? All life is connected to me. ”

 

His hand twitched on Johnny’s arm, and when he looked up, Owen’s face had contorted into rage.

 

“Owen?” Johnny whispered, feeling his hold get horribly tight. “Owen-”

 

“You lied to me?”

 

“Owen, that’s not something I can just tell people readily!”

 

Owen hastily pulled his hand off of Johnny, now advancing toward his wife.

 

“Owen?”

 

“You lied. ”

 

“Owen!” Elenor began to back up, cowering as he grabbed her wrist, screaming.

 

“You lied to me! ”

 

“Owen, please-”

 

“Please what?!”

 

“I’m pregnant !”

 

Pregnant?

 

Everyone fell back into silence. Johnny watched helplessly as Owen slowly released a trembling Elenor from his hold, now beginning to tremble himself.

 

He fell to his knees before Elenor. Put his forehead on her abdomen. Johnny saw a dull flash of green. Owen’s magic had sensed her baby. His baby.

 

Owen began to sob.

 

He howled out apologies, demands of how she could do such things, repeated my baby in between gasps like a broken record. He nuzzled into her stomach, he shoved her hands away. He apologized, he kissed her hand, he called her a liar once again, he thumbed over her stomach. 

 

He hated her actions. He loved her. He already loved his child.

 

Johnny struggled to understand such things. Such conflicts rarely ever crossed him. Yet, for some reason, he found beauty in it.

 

Owen surely would kill Johnny if he so much as went near her now. His rage had dissipated enough, thankfully, but he was so confused as to why she’d hide everything like this.

 

Everything seemed to be confusing him. 

 

Johnny jumped when he heard a soft grunt from Rowan, turning to find him hunched over Bela’s body.

 

With his sleeves up.

 

And something sharp in one hand.

 

And something dripping from his arm.

 

He ran to Rowan’s side, horrified.

 

“Rowan?! What are you-”

 

“Don’t worry about me,” Rowan cried. “I need to do this.”

 

He watched as Rowan cut another gash into his arm, blood dripping directly onto Bela’s wounds. Thea shook before them, breath hitching as her cries slowed.

 

The wounds sizzled as though hot and cold were colliding, but began to close slowly.

 

Based on observation alone, Johnny thought the mush wouldn’t be able to heal everything on his own. He grabbed Rowan’s arm, snatching his makeshift knife from him.

 

“Hey! I said not to worry about me!”

 

“You can’t do all of it yourself. You’ll black out.” Johnny rolled up his sleeve, staring right at Rowan as he cut into his own arm. “I don’t like you without your mushroom, either. So don’t be a dumbass.”

 

He watched Rowan’s cuts begin to close up. No wonder he was doing this, they were similar.

 

The cuts kept burning to a close, but Johnny was a little hesitant to accept that this could potentially bring her back to life. At least her body wouldn’t be mangled if it didn’t.

 

Wait, no. She couldn’t be dying. What was he thinking?

 

“When she wakes up,” Rowan said idly, “what are we doing?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Are we cursing her out, are we hugging her to death, what?”

 

“Maybe a bit of both.” Johnny smiled, passing the dagger back to Rowan. “Maybe a few threats in the mix, too.”

 

“Threats?” Rowan’s wince of pain morphed into giggling. His voice was hoarse, presumably from all the crying he had done. “Why are we gonna do that? ”

 

“If she leaves again,” Johnny took the knife back from Rowan, “I’ll kill her myself. And then I’ll kill you. And then I’ll kill myself.”

 

“Why do I have to die?!”

 

“You go where we go. I had to protect you from flying bodies and hear you drabble on in Russian , for fuck’s sake.”

 

“I didn’t mean to!”

 

“What part of shush didn’t make sense? That’s universal!”

 

Rowan shrugged, taking the knife back. “I gotta speak my truth, dude. And I was nervous! I get all noisy when I’m nervous!”

 

“Learned that the hard way.”

 

“ Hey! ” Rowan shoved the knife back towards Johnny. “Like you’re any better when you’re nervous! You had a death grip on me in front of that Lucas guy. I thought he was gonna kill me, but you were already trying!”

 

“I was protecting you .”

 

Lucas. He’d have to have a word with him.

 

They healed Bela’s body to completion, but no pulse was felt when Johnny sought it out. He sighed. Of course it would take more effort.

 

Her brain still was intact. It’d hold all her memories. Maybe finding her soul would jumpstart it.

 

Unless it was gone.

 

Did she even have a soul?

 

Could Johnny give her a piece of his? It was the highest form of soul, it would work.

 

But what if the body rejected it?

 

Such terrible hypothesizing. 

 

“We need to get her to the lab,” Johnny told Rowan. With one glance, he knew they were both thinking the same thing.

 

“There has to be a way to revive her.”

 

Chapter 23: Twenty Three

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

While Rowan and Johnny were deep in thought, debating what to do with Bela, they were suddenly startled by a mysterious voice that echoed through the room.

"I believe I could be of some assistance," the voice spoke, soft yet imbued with a quiet confidence.

The air seemed to shift as everyone turned to look at her, realizing for the first time that she had been quietly observing them. She walked behind the gods and moved towards the group. 

Her presence was captivating—her beauty was unlike anything they had ever seen. Long, brunette hair cascaded down her back, gradually fading into a soft, glowing yellow at the ends, catching the light with every step she took. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and elegant as she glided toward Rowan and Johnny, standing over Bela’s still form.

 

Her eyes gleamed with an iridescent teal hue, sparkling with a mysterious energy. The gown she wore was nothing short of breathtaking, layers of delicate lace flowing like water around her. The intricate lacework shimmered in the light, and the long trail of her dress followed her every graceful movement, giving the impression that she was floating rather than walking. Every detail of her being was enchanting, demanding the attention of all present.

…mom?" Rowan's voice cracked, filled with disbelief.

 

"MOM?!" The room erupted in a chorus of shocked voices, eyes widening as they took in the impossible scene.

 

Was this really Rowan’s… mom ?

Rowan, overwhelmed, stumbled forward, almost tripping over his own feet as he rushed toward her. But just before reaching her, he skidded to a stop, his breath catching. He didn’t want to collide with her, unsure if she was even real.

 

She gazed down at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of his red, swollen eyes—stained by countless hours of tears, each drop carrying the weight of his pain and loss. Then, without warning, she raised her hand and

 

  slapped him.

The slap echoed in the room like a thunderclap, and everything fell into a stunned, oppressive silence. Rowan stood frozen, the sting on his cheek paling in comparison to the shock surging through him. His mind reeled, his body stiff as he tried to process what had just happened.

He blinked, eyes welling up with fresh tears, but this time, they weren’t from sorrow alone—they were from confusion, disbelief, and something deeper he couldn’t yet name. Slowly, he raised his head to look at her again, and what he saw made his heart twist.

She was crying too.

 

Large, shimmering tears slid down her face, falling like heavy raindrops. Her lips quivered as silent sobs wracked her body, the grief evident in every tear that escaped her. Then, in an instant, her arms reached out and she pulled Rowan into a fierce, trembling embrace.

Rowan’s breath hitched as he felt her arms tighten around him, her grip firm but filled with an overwhelming tenderness. She clung to him as though afraid to let go, as though he might disappear if she loosened her hold for even a second.

Their tails, almost as if acting on instinct, intertwined gently, wrapping around each other in a shared moment of intimacy and comfort. The touch of their tails—a deep, personal connection—spoke volumes beyond what words could express.

Rowan stood there, his tears mingling with hers as they held each other. In that moment, despite the shock and confusion, he was wrapped in the warmth of her love, feeling a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

 

After a few minutes of hugging, his mom slowly detached herself from rowan as she began to speak

 

“DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” his mom’s voice thundered inside Rowan’s mind. “OH, I’VE BEEN WATCHING THIS TRAINWRECK UNFOLD FROM THE VERY BEGINNING—” Her voice continued to rant, echoing in his head as she berated him for his reckless actions. He knew he deserved it, but being lectured in front of a room full of gods? That was a whole new level of embarrassment.

Rowan’s face flushed as he cast his gaze down, shifting uncomfortably. He glanced around the room, hoping to find some relief, but it only made things worse. Everyone was trying to act as if they weren’t listening, pretending to be absorbed in anything but his mother’s scolding. Yet, it was painfully obvious that they were all aware—eyes flickering in his direction and the awkward shuffling of feet that couldn’t quite hide their amusement.

Rowan groaned inwardly, wishing he could disappear.

His mom let out a long sigh, the anger melting into something softer. She reached out and ruffled Rowan’s hair, her touch gentle and affectionate. “You’re lucky you’re still in one piece,” she murmured, the relief clear in her voice.

 For a moment, the tension between them eased, replaced by a quiet contentment. Her hand lingered, and as she rested it on his shoulder, a soft, pale yellow glow emanated from her fingers, washing over Rowan’s body.

With just a single touch, his remaining wounds began to heal. The yellow aura shimmered around his hand as bruises faded, cuts sealed themselves, and the ache in his muscles dissolved into nothing. Rowan felt the weight of exhaustion lifting from him, replaced by a strange warmth that left him feeling…whole.

Satisfied, his mother turned to face the room, where everyone still stood, awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact. She gave them all a graceful nod, her voice calm and composed as she spoke. “Allow me to introduce myself properly,” she said, her presence commanding attention as she healed Rowan without even breaking her focus. 

“Oh! Apologies for the confusion,” she said gently, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment. “My name is Maia, and—”

“ Maia?! ” Jasper gasped, his voice filled with disbelief. He stared at her as if he had just seen a ghost. Could it really be the Maia?

Johnny and the others exchanged puzzled glances, unsure why Jasper was so stunned by the revelation. They had heard many names in their time, but none had elicited such a reaction from him before.

Jasper, still in awe, began to explain, his voice filled with reverence. “Maia is the angel who protected Rowan’s village for years . Her power… it was unlike anything recorded in their town. The stories say that her very presence could drive away even the darkest evil spirits. She was renowned for her kindness, a force so strong it could purify the hearts of the wicked.”

His voice softened as he continued, his admiration clear. “She was a merciful one, dedicated her entire life to helping others, offering peace and protection to all under her care.”

Rowan watched as Maia twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers, her cheeks tinged with a subtle pink. It was clear, despite her composed demeanor, that she secretly enjoyed being praised. Her embarrassment was endearing, and Rowan couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight.

 

Jasper trailed off, his brows furrowing slightly as he tried to recall what the records had said. “But… there was something missing in the stories. The books never mentioned what happened to her after those centuries of protecting the village. She just… disappeared.”

Maia, standing calmly before them, looked at Jasper with a knowing sadness in her eyes. “Until I decided to become a fallen angel…” she finished for him, her voice quiet but resolute.

The room fell into stunned silence as the weight of her words settled over them.

“What?” Jasper's voice trembled, barely able to comprehend what she had just said. His heart raced, his mind reeling. "But... why? Why would you—"

Maia met his gaze, her expression unreadable, a mixture of sorrow and acceptance in her eyes. "There are some decisions that come not from evil, but from love," she whispered. "And in time, I had to choose a path that no longer allowed me to stay in the light.

Maia noticed the growing interest in her story, especially from Rowan, whose eyes seemed to sparkle with a newfound curiosity. He was eager to learn more about his mother

 She sighed softly and settled herself down, motioning for Rowan to sit beside her. Without hesitation, he joined her, sitting close as if drawn to her presence.

"I was feeling inspired by your friend’s storytelling style sooo" Maia shifted her sharp gaze briefly locking onto Cirro, who immediately stiffened. His nervous fidgeting was almost comical as he hastily conjured up five wooden dolls, each with mushroom heads, resembling different characters in her story. Maia giggled at the sight. She picked up one of the dolls, examining it fondly as she prepared to begin.

“It all started when I was twelve years old…” she began, her voice taking on a nostalgic tone. “I was a free-spirited child, one who found peace in nature. The woods were my home, my sanctuary. I loved nothing more than helping animals and creatures alike. I spent most of my days wandering the forest, connecting with the world around me.”

-

 Maia ventured further into the forest, her sense of direction faltered. Her curiosity had led her too far from home, and now, with the sky darkening, she felt a wave of panic. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she struggled to find her way back, the forest closing in around her with the encroaching night.

She had been chasing the sound of a bird screeching for help, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. But the forest seemed endless, its shadows growing longer and more ominous. Just as despair began to take hold, she heard a soft, melodic voice from behind her.

“It seems a little doe has lost her way,” Cirro said, emerging from the shadows with a warm smile. His presence seemed to illuminate the darkening forest, his golden eyes gleaming with a gentle light. He looked at Maia with a blend of curiosity and kindness.

Maia turned to him, stunned by his appearance. His radiance was almost otherworldly, like he was the sun personified. She felt a strange mix of awe and calm wash over her as he approached. “You’re an interesting mush… a heart made of gold, if I may say,” Cirro remarked, his voice smooth and comforting.

With delicate grace, he took Maia’s hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers.. Cirro’s presence was both soothing and captivating, a stark contrast to the dark, encroaching forest.

For a moment, Maia stood there, transfixed, as if time had slowed. Cirro’s radiant demeanor seemed to chase away the shadows around her, and she felt a deep, unexpected sense of peace.

 

Cirro’s laughter rang out, a melodious sound that seemed to fill the forest

 “I know, I know, I’m very pret—”

“You look like cheese!” 

Elias’s voice cut in, his hidden laughter barely contained as he spoke.

The sudden interruption caused some of the group to burst into giggles, their amusement clear despite their attempts to stifle it. Even Johnny smirked at this fact. Cirro’s expression shifted to one of mild irritation, his eyes narrowing slightly. It was evident he wasn’t particularly fond of that part of the story.

Maia, noticing Cirro’s discomfort, couldn’t help but chuckle softly. She gave him a reassuring glance before continuing with the tale. “Yes, Cirro did have a tendency to take himself a bit too seriously,” she said with a playful smile. “But despite his appearance—cheesy or not—his presence was undeniably comforting. He guided me back to the edge of the forest, his warmth and light making the journey seem much less frightening.”

“His kindness made me want to join his cause, even though i couldn’t be a god, i wanted to be a guardian angel”

-

“Pleeeeeeeaasee?” 

“No,” 

“PLEASSEEEEEE?”

“N.o spells no, little doe!” Cirro insisted, his patience wearing thin. He could see the goodness in her heart and understood her desire, but at twelve years old, becoming an angel was far too dangerous. He couldn't fathom how he would manage to mentor her through such a transformation.

Maia puffed her cheeks in frustration, her tiny fists clenching as she stomped on the grass. Her tail flicked back and forth in irritation. Cirro, trying to maintain his stern demeanor, turned his back to her, pretending to be equally angry.

 

However, Maia’s cuteness was his undoing. Unable to maintain his facade, Cirro’s resolve wavered. Apparently, Maia had reached her breaking point. She turned on her heel and ran deeper into the forest, her small figure darting between the trees.

Cirro sighed, rolling his eyes with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “S-stop… HA… RUNNING!” he called after her, struggling to keep up. This wasn’t the kind of exercise he was used to, and his breath came in labored gasps as he chased her through the forest.

Suddenly, he skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he spotted something on the ground. An injured deer lay there, its body covered in bruises and scratches. But Maia was already kneeling beside it, her hands glowing with a soft, pale yellow light. Vines sprouted from the ground, wrapping around the deer’s wounds and blooming with flowers that seemed to heal the injuries as they grew.

Maia’s eyes glowed an ocean blue, reflecting the gentle light of her magic. As she finished her healing, she withdrew her hands and watched as the deer sprang to its feet, its injuries now miraculously healed. The creature bolted off into the deeper forest, free from pain.

Maia turned around, spotting Cirro, now short, panting heavily. Her eyes sparkled with hopeful excitement as she approached him, almost bouncing on her toes.

 “Can I become an angel noooow?” she asked eagerly, her face glowing with happiness.

Cirro’s eyes twitched in resignation. He looked at the determined girl before him and then at the healed deer disappearing into the forest. With a sigh, he knew he couldn't deny her any longer.

 

“So began my training,” Maia said with a nostalgic smile, holding up the dolls representing her and Cirro. “He helped me learn how to focus on honing my healing powers, taught me about other universes, and showed me how to appreciate every aspect of this world.”

The group was enraptured by Maia’s storytelling, their attention fixed on her every word. Rowan, in particular, was fascinated to see this side of his mother—a side filled with warmth and cherished memories. 

However, Cirro and Elias exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions darkening slightly as they braced for the next part of the story.

Maia continued, her tone brightening as she held up another doll. “Eventually, I met Elias, and we formed a group—a trio of friends!” She swung the dolls gracefully in the air, her excitement evident as she recounted these formative moments. Rowan watched with a mix of curiosity and admiration, appreciating the playful and animated storytelling from his mother.

As Maia’s tone shifted, her gaze fell on a particular doll. She picked it up gently, her fingers tracing its contours with a sense of reverence. “I was nineteen when I met your father. By that time, I had graduated to a full-fledged guardian angel and was tasked with protecting the village I grew up in.”

-

Maia sighed longingly as she stood in the familiar, nostalgic woods. It felt comforting to return to this place after so much time spent hopping between universes. The forest was like a second home to her, its tranquility a balm to her soul.

She raised her hands up, beginning her daily ritual with a practiced grace. As she chanted the incantation, her voice flowed with a melodic rhythm. Vines began to coil around her hands, delicate and purposeful. Baby’s breath flowers started to bloom from her palms, their tiny blossoms adding a soft, ethereal touch to her magic.

The ground beneath her shimmered with a gentle yellow light as she cast a spell to rejuvenate the biome. Everything was peaceful until…

 

Rustle

 

Maia’s senses were on high alert as she abruptly turned around, her eyes scanning the shadows of the forest for any sign of the observer. The feeling of being watched was unsettling, and despite her best efforts to remain hidden, she couldn’t shake the anxiety that perhaps she had made a mistake in her concealment.

 

She noticed she couldn't see anyone around her?

 

With a final glance around, she turned and made her way back to the white space—to regain her composure. As she traveled through the familiar pathways of the white space, her thoughts were troubled, reflecting on the potential person who saw her.

 

The next night, Maia resumed her spell in the woods, determined to complete her ritual despite the previous night's unsettling experience. She chanted softly, her hands once again surrounded by coiling vines and blooming flowers. The ground shimmered with a warm, yellow light as she worked to rejuvenate the forest again.

Just as she was getting into the rhythm of her spell, a deep voice startled her from behind. 

“H-hello?”

Maia’s ears perked up, and her body tensed in surprise. She spun around quickly, her eyes wide as she tried to locate the source of the voice. Her gaze fell upon a much smaller mush man than she had expected. He had dark oak hair styled into a mullet, and his square-shaped body was marked with scars on both his mushroom cap and his face.

Her initial reaction was one of concern—she reallyyy didn’t want to be fired. Yet, despite her anxiety, there was something about this strange man that intrigued her. The mush man looked nervous but determined, his eyebrows furrowed 

The mush man suddenly took a knee and presented the bouquet of flowers to Maia with a heartfelt sincerity. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” he said, his voice trembling slightly as he continued, “I’m sorry I spied on you yesterday, but I lost my way until I saw your beauty.”

He looked up at her with a mix of apology and admiration, his dull eyes now sparkling with a newfound light. The genuine emotion in his voice was palpable, and Maia found herself taken aback by the intensity of his feelings.

Her eyes shone even brighter in response to his words, and her cheeks flushed a soft peach pink. The compliment, so earnest and unexpected, touched her deeply. Despite her usual reserve and the rules that bound her, something in her stirred—a longing for connection, for something beyond the familiar patterns of her existence.

So she decided to test it.

 

As Maia continued her story, her eyes remained bright as she recounted the sweet and awkward moments of their time together. She spoke of their clumsy dates and how she had accidentally laughed at his name, finding it amusingly manly. The memory seemed to bring her a sense of nostalgia, though it was mixed with a hint of sadness.

Her tone shifted as she placed down the rest of the dolls and picked up her own with a slow, deliberate motion. “Your dad… proposed to me,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of unspoken sorrow. “I didn’t realize how much trouble it would cause until it happened.”

Cirro and Elias exchanged glances,The guilt was palpable, and Jasper sensed an undercurrent of responsibility in their demeanor. He could feel the heaviness of the situation, and Jasper knew something bad was about to happen.

 

-

Maia’s surroundings shifted dramatically. She found herself standing before a towering, imposing figure, her body shaking with fear. The change was jarring, and her heart raced as she realized the gravity of what she had done.

“ KNEEL ”

Maia’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, sweat pouring down her face. The weight of the moment bore down on her, and she trembled uncontrollably. The giant figure loomed over her, their presence overwhelming.

.

 

“You…know what you did…don’t you?”

 The voice carried a hint of disdain, cutting through Maia’s attempts to explain. She tried to find words, but her voice faltered, unable to produce a coherent response.

 

“I SAID, DID YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID? ” The voice grew louder, and Maia felt an invisible force lifting her, forcing her to meet the figure’s gaze. She struggled against the pressure, her body wracked with fear and frustration.

 

“I-I-I didn’t—” Maia’s voice quivered as she tried to defend herself, but she knew her actions had put her in a perilous situation. The figure’s grip tightened, and Maia felt the crushing weight of their disapproval.

 

Desperation surged through her as she gritted her teeth in pain. She raised her head high, her eyes meeting the figure’s with unwavering resolve.

 “I LOVED HIM, AND I WILL ALWAYS, NO MATTER WHAT STUPID RULES STOP ME!” Her voice was raspy but bold, tears escaping and floating in the air around her.

The towering figure tilted its head, casting a shadow over Maia as it regarded her with an inscrutable expression. The words that followed were heavy with finality.

 

“You know what we have to do… don’t you?”

 

Maia’s eyes widened in horror as the implications of the figure's words sank in. The fear that had been gnawing at her became a full-blown panic. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and her heart pounded violently in her chest.

 

“N-no….please…anything but THAT PLEASE!” maia’s voice peaked as she begged for anything but that punishment

The figure…just smiled. 

“ Sinners….should be punished ”

With one last word, the figure spreaded maia’s wings with both hands and…

Ripped them

 

The screams could not be described as maia felt each thread and feather separate from her body as she shrieked in pain, golden blood dripping as she squirmed, trying to not pass out from the anguish and pain mixing together.

 

As her tear filled eyes looked up, praying for anyone to help her, she slowly glanced down to see

 

Cirro and Elias, who were covering their ears and sobbing uncontrollably. Their bodies trembled with each anguished scream that escaped her. The sight of her trusted friends in such distress added a heavy layer to her own suffering.

 

Maia’s emotions were a tangled mess—abandoned, grief-stricken, betrayed, and enveloped in deep sadness. Yet, amid the turmoil, there was a poignant thread of 

love  

that persisted despite the agony she was enduring. Her heart ached with the complexity of her feelings, the love she held contrasting sharply with the pain she felt

As the figure continued its harsh task, tearing away the final remnants of her wings, Maia could only watch with a mixture of love and profound sadness. 

 

Despite the relentless pain, Maia managed a small, serene smile. The tears continued to flow down her cheeks, a stark juxtaposition to the faint smile that curved her lips. It was a smile born of acceptance, of enduring love, and of a deep-seated resolve to face whatever came next.

 

Cirro and Elias, witnessing this, were stunned into silence. Their shock was evident as they stared at Maia, unable to comprehend how she could find the strength to smile through such torture. 

 

Maia collapsed to the ground, the weight of her agony evident in every tremble of her body. 

The once majestic wings, now reduced to a pool of golden blood around her, reflected the depth of her suffering. The sight was both haunting and profound, a testament to the brutal price she had paid.

With a slow effort, Maia raised herself on one trembling arm, her body shaking uncontrollably from the pain. She lifted her face, her gaze filled with both resignation and a flicker of determination.

“I… thank you for releasing me,” she gasped, her voice a strained whisper yet filled with a sense of clarity. “I’d rather take this pain than never to love again.”

 

With the last of her dwindling power, she snapped her fingers as a brilliant flash of light, Maia’s form began to dissolve, her body shimmering as she transported herself back to her village. 

 

The familiar sights and sounds of her home appeared around her, providing a stark contrast to the pain she had endured.

Wingless…and angeless

The tale of maia stopped being told throughout the village

 

Maia lifted her face, her vision clouded by pain and tears, and saw the group looking at her with a mix of horror and disbelief. She attempted to laugh it off, a strained effort to ease the tension and mask her suffering, but the sound was hollow and did little to lighten the atmosphere.

 

Her gaze slowly fell upon Rowan, and her heart clenched at the sight of him crying.

 He was overwhelmed by the horror of witnessing his mother endure such a brutal punishment. His tears rolled endlessly as he silently sobbed.

 

Rowan’s eyes met Jasper’s, and the shared grief between them was apparent. Jasper was also in tears, his sorrow reflecting Rowan’s. Their connection, forged in love and shared pain, was evident in their mutual struggle to process the enormity of what Maia had gone through.

Cirro and elias could feel the group’s eyes fall upon them heavily

Cirro and elias knew they were in some deep shit

 

Chapter 24: Twenty Four

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Eyes blinked open.

 

Brown, then blue, then gold, then purple.

 

Colors swirled like watercolor on a wet canvas, dripping down in vibrant streaks. 

 

The woman stood, among the stars. 

 

The stars sung her lullabies and ballads, they welcomed her home.

 

Home.

 

Such a funny word.

 

Such a human word.

 

Was she human?

 

She didn't feel like it.

 

But could something that wasn't human feel how she felt?

 

That all encompassing Love for everything.

 

She felt it, that Love.

 

Did the stars feel it too? 

 

—

 

Tatiana Dumitrescu lived to spite rules. 

 

When she was born she was not expected to live, she was born quiet and still. It took a few minutes for her to cry, for her heart to beat. 

 

That was the first rule she defied. 

 

Tatiana Dumitrescu lived in spite of it all. 

 

She grew to be rebellious, loud and boisterous. Confident and quick. 

 

Belladonna was the opposite of her. Darkened hair free from shocks of white curls and brown eyes rather than green. 

 

She was quiet and shy, reserved and a rule follower. 

 

Tatiana Dumitrescu lived to spite rules. 

 

The rules found a way to get back at her each time. 

 

Her sister died.

 

Sixteen, their birthday. 

 

She left the house for a date, she came back in a body bag. 

 

Tatiana pretended it didn't hurt when her family avoided looking at her in the eyes after that day. 

 

Tatiana rebelled against the rules. The facts of life.

 

Fact One : Tatiana Dumitrescu can lose the ones she loves.

 

Fact Two : Tatiana Dumitrescu has a broken family. 

 

Fact Three : Tatiana Dumitrescu can never be fast enough, quick enough for those she cares for. 

 

She lived to fight these rules, she ignored her broken family, her inability to be there when it mattered, and the looming ever present face of Death. 

 

Her family pieced itself back together, a puzzle with a missing piece. A frame with a scratched out face. 

 

The missing piece, the hidden face. 

 

It was her.

 

Belladonna. 

 

—

Tatiana shot up in bed, her parents were next door. They awoke to the sound of her sobs, cries they had not heard since the day Belladonna had died.

 

They rushed to the room, robes and nightgowns fluttering in their wake.

 

“What's wrong?” 

 

“Bela…”

 

“What happened, did you sense something from her?”

 

“She’s gone..”

 

“Bela, she's gone..” 

 

—

The tension in the air was palpable, heavier than a foggy morning after a downpour, as all eyes shifted toward the two gods, Cirro and Elias. The weight of Maia's story and her sacrifice had created an oppressive atmosphere, one that felt impossible to break.

Cirro’s face had fallen, his usual confident demeanor replaced by sheer panic. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and his hands fidgeted, betraying his unease. The gravity of the situation weighed on him more than he could handle, his bravado crumbling under the collective gaze.

Elias, on the other hand, seemed to have completely shut down. His eyes were vacant, staring off into nothing, as if he wasn’t fully present in the moment. It was as though his mind had retreated somewhere far away, too overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow to engage with the scene unfolding before him.

And then, 

like a spark igniting dry kindling

 

the silence shattered, giving way to a cacophony of angry voices. The air was filled with yelling, a full-on battle of words as tensions reached their breaking point. The group splintered, their emotions boiling over into a fierce debate.

Jasper stood firmly on one side, their voices loud and passionate as they led the charge. "They should take all the blame!" Jasper shouted, his eyes blazing with conviction. "What they’ve done is unforgivable—they can’t be excused!"

On the opposite side, Johnny fought back just as fiercely, defending the gods with equally intense emotion. "There must be a reason!" Johnny argued, trying to bring some perspective to the chaos. "We don’t know the whole story—there has to be a justification for why they did what they did!" 

Ian didn’t know to think honestly and stood there awkwardly.

Thea and Owen were too busy grieving to handle all these fights as they were focused on the love of their lives.

The room became a battlefield, with words clashing like swords, each side unwilling to back down. Accusations flew, and so did justifications. Faces turned red with fury, fists clenched in frustration. 

The gods, 

Cirro and Elias, 

stood at the center of it all, their guilt and past actions now the subject of fierce scrutiny.

 

As the room erupted into chaos, with heated arguments turning into small physical scuffles, Rowan stood apart from it all, staring blankly at the floor. The noise and anger around him seemed distant, almost like a muffled roar, as if he were drifting away from the moment. He felt numb, unsure of what to believe anymore, who to trust, or even if he truly belonged here. The once-clear sense of purpose and certainty he had was now clouded with doubt and confusion.

Maia, standing nearby, was equally shaken. She had faced unimaginable pain, but this sudden surge of violence and conflict over her actions left her stunned into silence. Her body trembled as she watched people she cared about, and others who barely knew her, tear into one another.

 

Rowan's eyes flicked across the room, still distant, as he watched the scene unfold around him. His boyfriend, Jasper, and his friend Johnny were at each other's throats, grabbing each other's collars, shouting insults, and dredging up old wounds from their past. The chaos seemed to blur together, yet it sparked something volatile deep inside him.

His body began to heat up, a simmering rage building within him. Every slight, every painful memory came crashing down on him at once—the gods telling him he was a mistake, the suffering they had inflicted on Jasper, the death of a dear friend

…and now, 

the torment his mother had endured for love.

 

A creeping smile spread across Rowan’s face as the pressure inside him surged, his emotions too overwhelming to control. What started as a soft chuckle broke into a full, unhinged burst of manic laughter. His body shook as he arched forward, grasping his face with one hand as if trying to contain the madness overtaking him. The sound of his laughter sliced through the room, cutting through the fights and arguments.

 

Everyone froze. Their eyes shifted to Rowan, startled and unnerved by the eerie sound. Jasper released Johnny’s collar, stepping back as he and the others stared at Rowan

 

Maia’s heart sank. She had seen her son go through pain, but never like this. She knew something was terribly wrong, everyone knew…

Rowan…has reached his b

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Rowan's body went eerily still as the manic laughter stopped, his head lifting slowly to reveal a chilling transformation. His form seemed to radiate danger, like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. His eyes had changed, no longer the gentle gaze his friends knew—his left eye now resembled a warning sign, glowing ominously, while his right eye displayed an explosive image, flickering like a fuse about to be lit. His usual smile twisted into something wild, deranged, and unsettling, as his gaze locked onto the two gods—Cirro and Elias.

Each step Rowan took toward them was slow and deliberate, his posture slumped, yet each thud of his foot against the ground sent a ripple of tension through the room. He never blinked, his focus entirely fixed on the gods, as if nothing else existed in that moment. Everyone instinctively stepped back, their faces filled with a mix of confusion, fear, and unease. This new form, this energy emanating from him, was unlike anything they had seen before.

Johnny, normally unfazed by chaos, couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. His curiosity surged as he looked at Rowan's altered state. What happened to him? Why does he look like this? But as much as Johnny's mind raced to analyze and understand the change, he knew this wasn’t the time for fascination. He had to act.

Without thinking, Johnny broke away from Jasper, rushing toward Rowan. He reached out, placing a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, hoping to pull him back to his senses. But as soon as he made contact, Johnny jerked his hand away in shock. Rowan’s body felt like it was burning, radiating an intense heat as if he were moments away from combustion.

 

Jasper's heart sank as he watched Rowan's transformation unfold. The memory of this terrifying state clawed its way back to the surface, a memory he'd buried deep because it was too painful to confront. The details were hazy, as though his mind had tried to shield him from the full horror of it. But one thing stood out clearly: the only way he had been able to stop Rowan last time was by placing a magic seal on him to calm him down.

His eyes darted to Rowan, whose body radiated volatile energy, and then to the rest of the group, who stood frozen in fear. The room was tense, each second passing like an eternity as Rowan inched closer to Cirro and Elias. Jasper knew that if he didn’t act now, the devastation could be unimaginable.

Without hesitation, Jasper sprinted forward, weaving through the chaos as he called out to Rowan. His voice trembled, but his resolve was strong.

“Rowan! Stop! You have to calm down!” Jasper's voice cracked with desperation as he closed the distance between them, his hands already glowing with the energy needed to create the seal.

But Rowan didn’t respond, his manic eyes still fixed on the gods, oblivious to everything else. Jasper’s pulse quickened. This isn’t like before… he’s even more powerful now.

Jasper wanted to stop him but

 

At the same time, he didn’t

 

Rowan’s cackling filled the room, the unsettling sound echoing off the walls as his body trembled unnaturally. His steps, slow and deliberate, created a dreadful rhythm that matched the chaos building within him.

“First,” Rowan’s voice growled, full of venom, “you made me live through all this trauma.”

 

One step.

 

“Second,” he hissed, his eyes darkening with rage, “you made the love of my life endure devastation and lies... because of you.”

 

Two steps.

 

His arm twitched, body trembling as if on the verge of exploding. But then, Rowan froze, his entire form going eerily still. The room seemed to hold its breath.

 

“And here’s the kicker...” Rowan’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper, laced with fury and grief. “My mom... was being tortured —and you did nothing to help her!”

 

With a sharp crack, Rowan twisted his neck to the side, his arm raising with deliberate menace as he pointed directly at Cirro and Elias

 

“I’ve…

 

“ Had enough”

And with this declaration, 

He made his decision

the sickly purple gas began to spill from Rowan's mushroom, the room erupted into chaos. Jasper’s heart pounded, his mind racing as he realized the deadly threat spreading through the air. If anyone inhaled that gas, they would surely die. Desperation clawed at him as he turned to shout a warning, but before he could speak, the rapid clacking of heels broke through the panic.

Maia, her face etched with determination, sprinted toward her son with a speed and grace that surprised even Jasper. Without hesitation, she clasped her hands over Rowan's eyes, a soft glow of pale yellow light surrounding them in an ethereal seal. Rowan jolted, startled by the sudden embrace, and began to thrash in her arms, trying to break free. But Maia’s hold was unyielding, her strength matched only by the love and sorrow in her heart.

“Shhhhhh…” Maia’s voice was gentle, yet filled with an unshakable authority. She whispered something inaudible in his ear.

 

Rowan’s body stiffened for a moment, then slackened as his eyes fluttered shut. With a heavy thud, he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

 

Maia gently laid Rowan down, her hand softly caressing his face, her touch filled with the tenderness only a mother could offer. His breathing was shallow but steady, a soft rise and fall of his chest that reassured Jasper and Johnny as they rushed over, panic written across their faces.

Johnny, wide-eyed, couldn’t hold back his frustration. "WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!" he yelled, the tension of the moment making him forget everything else. The scientist in him was dying to dissect the situation, intrigued by Rowan’s anatomy and the mysterious abilities of their kind, but the fear of dying from the poison took precedence.

Jasper, more controlled but equally frantic, knelt beside Rowan, his heart aching with concern. He leaned down, listening closely. "He’s breathing… Thank the gods." He turned to Maia, his astonishment clear. "Did you… put a sleep spell on him?"

Maia chuckled softly, brushing Rowan's hair away from his face. "Ah yes, I’ve been practicing for this moment," she said, a light smile on her lips, though her eyes were weary. "As a volatile mush, I have to be ready to prevent him from killing himself... or others."

Johnny’s wide-eyed curiosity turned to disbelief as he processed her words. "Kill… himself?" he asked, voice shaky.

Maia sighed, a heaviness settling into her tone. "Only a few are born with this… gift. Mushes who can release their toxins are highly prized in the village, often groomed to become soldiers for the Queen. But…" Her gaze darkened, and her voice grew quiet.

"The side effect of using that power is…"

She paused, the weight of the word hanging heavy in the air before she finished it, her voice barely above a whisper.

“D E A T H.”

He would…kill himself for revenge? Johnny pondered to himself in shock.

Johnny’s mind raced as he reflected on all that Rowan had endured—the trauma, the betrayal, the heartache. It was clear now why Rowan had been driven to such an extreme reaction. The sight of him in that state made his heart twinge in guilt. The air in the room was thick with residual tension, but with the immediate threat averted, the atmosphere began to shift.

Jasper and Johnny remained by Rowan’s side, their concern unwavering as they waited for him to regain consciousness. Rowan’s breathing was steady, a small relief amidst the chaos. They exchanged worried glances, both deeply troubled by the recent events.

Meanwhile, Maia, still visibly shaken from the intense display of Rowan’s power and anger, made her way toward Cirro and Elias. Her steps were purposeful but unsteady, a reflection of the emotional storm raging inside her. The gods had witnessed something unprecedented, and the gravity of the situation was evident in their expressions.

Maia stood before them, her face a mask of barely controlled fury. Her voice, typically soft and composed, now carried a sharp edge. 

“We’ll talk about this later, you know that, right ?” she demanded, her tone rising with the force of her anger.

Cirro and Elias, both clearly overcome with guilt and fear, bowed their heads and dropped to their knees. The weight of their remorse was evident in their trembling forms 

and 

the tears streaming down their faces. Their sobs filled the room, a poignant reminder of the heavy consequences of their actions.

The sight of the two gods in such a state was almost surreal. Their usual confidence and authority had crumbled, leaving them vulnerable and remorseful.

 

Maia was taken aback, she didn't know they were going to react like this

 

Cirro’s voice broke through his tears, his words barely audible but laden with anguish. 

“From the beginning…” he began, his tone thick with remorse.

Elias, his voice equally choked with sorrow, added, “And the ends of the earth…”

Both gods, once pillars of authority and confidence, now knelt in front of Maia, their faces streaked with tears. “We apologize…” they said in unison, their voices trembling with the weight of their regret.

Maia was momentarily stunned. She had never heard them speak such words before, their pride and authority usually keeping them distant from the vulnerability of genuine apology. The sight was both surprising and heart-wrenching.

Cirro continued, his voice cracking with emotion. “I know I’ve never made the best of decisions… starting to meddle with mortal affairs that shouldn’t have been touched, lying to save our own tails, and deciding to take the life of a friend…”

He lifted his head, his gaze meeting Maia’s with a mix of guilt and sorrow. “The worst was losing you… my little doe.”

Cirro, his voice raw from the emotional strain, knocked gently on Elias’s head as he continued to cry silently. “That day we saw you being tortured… we were threatened to stay quiet or lose our positions,” elias’s voice wavered. “Not that it’s an excuse for not saving you… we knew it wasn’t right, but we were too afraid to go against it.”

Elias, his face streaked with tears, nodded in agreement. “We were paralyzed by fear,” he sniffled. “It was wrong, but we felt powerless to act.”

Maia’s gaze softened as she absorbed their confessions. With a tender touch, she placed her hands gently on their chins, guiding their faces up to meet hers.

 “My cheese…” she said to Cirro, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and affection. “My truffle…” she said to Elias, a smile breaking through her tears.

 

“Please…I forgive you. I always have.”

 

As tears fell from her eyes, Maia embraced them both, pulling them into a heartfelt hug. The energy of her forgiveness mingled with theirs, a powerful and emotional connection that spoke of deep-seated love and understanding. The room, once filled with tension and anger, now resonated with a quiet, poignant moment of reconciliation.

 

Johnny and Jasper exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of resignation and understanding. Both knew that the arguments and emotional upheaval they had faced were not entirely resolved. They shared a silent acknowledgement that they would need to discuss their thoughts and feelings with each other later, once the immediate crisis was under control.

 

Maia released herself from the hug and closed her eyes for a moment, collecting her thoughts before addressing Cirro and Elias with a sharp gaze.

“For causing this mess, past and present,” she said firmly, her voice carrying an edge of authority. “You’ll be helping us with whatever we need! Got it?” Her grip on Cirro’s and Elias’s shoulders was firm, and they winced slightly under her determined hold.

Both gods nodded quickly, their expressions a mix of relief and resignation as they rose to join the others. Maia’s decisiveness helped shift the focus back to the task at hand.

Turning to the group, Maia’s energy shifted once again as she adopted an enthusiastic tone. 

 

“Alright! Who’s ready to bring back Bela?” 

Chapter 25: Twenty Five

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Cirro stepped forward, holding out hands encased in flowing fabric, as he offered himself for the group’s viewing eyes. 

 

“Little doe,” Maia stood to attention as she stepped closer to him, clearly already knowing his plans, ”let us combine our magic to bring her back.” Maia nodded and reached out her hands to grasp at Cirro’s offered ones. 

 

They walked with joined hands over to Bela’s body, which Thea held in her strong arms. 

 

“Warrior,” Cirro addressed the sobbing Queen before him, “please allow me to make up for my actions by bringing her back to you.” Thea considered the man before her, and stood, towering over him. She grabbed him by his robe and brought him close to her tearstained face.

 

“No tricks.” She growled, an unspoken threat of disembowelment hung in the air between them and Cirro nodded clearly intimidated by the woman in front of him. 

 

Letting him drop back to the ground she stalked back and stood directly behind Cirro, nudging him from his fearful stance towards Bela who lay on the cold floor, lonely. 

 

Cirro and Maia moved forward and knelt before her body, encased in bloody and ruined clothing and covered in tear and blood stains. Holding their conjoined hands overtop of Bela’s unmoving chest they muttered incantations under their breath. 

 

Slowly their joined hands began to glow, runes decorating their arms and crawling their way up the side of their face. The water rippled and an unseen wind began to ruffle the group's clothing. The magic continued to build until-

 

Ripples of golden light spread through the room, sending vibrations down everyone’s spine as their racing thoughts calmed and a warmth spread through their chests. Cirro and Maia watched with bated breath as Bela’s finger twitched and then slowly returned to its resting place.

 

Her chest did not move.

 

“That should have worked…” Maia trailed off, confusion and dread present in her whispered confession. The group rushed forward clearly expecting a revived Bela to greet them, likely sleeping as she was still on the ground. Instead they were met with a cold body and the confused faces of Cirro and Maia. 

 

Thea grabbed at Cirro by the scruff of his collar and hefted him into the air. 

 

“I told you,” she drew her sword and leveled it across his exposed neck, Cirro stopped moving and looked at her from the corner of his eye, “no tricks.”  Cirro gulped deeply and Maia sprung up pleading for her friend’s life.

 

“Please! Don’t hurt him, it wasn't a trick, this should have worked.” Thea watched her with a cold gaze, she had become the person she was after Belladonna’s death all over again. A ruthless and merciless warrior, a killer, a Queen with a heart of cold iron. 

 

Elias stepped forward and tugged at her arm, she didn't budge and the sword drifted closer to Cirro’s neck. The group watched with bated breath as it seemed there would be another death in their gathered group when a loud booming voice behind them froze everyone in their tracks. 

 

“The vessel is not fit for your paltry magic.”

 

—

 

Johnny whirled around and there stood Void, far from the group and its sword sheathed at its side. His eyes widened and he saw a flash shadow as Ian leaped forward and slashed at Void. 

 

Void simply threw up a hand and caught his hit, turning its head to stare at him expressionlessly. 

 

“Mortal. Stand down.” 

 

With these words Void grabbed Ian’s arm and tossed him back at the group, Johnny caught his sailing body in his arms and almost hit the ground with the force of the hit but remained standing and helped Ian steady himself. Rowan began to stir. 

 

“The hell is that thing.” Thea growled as she dropped Cirro and leveled her sword at the dark figure before her, seemingly unafraid. 

 

“Void.” Elias said and dropped down onto one knee, motioning for the group to do the same. Hesitantly the rest followed, save for Johnny who was absolutely livid at the sight of the creature, and Rowan who was still waking up. 

 

“Rise.” Void’s voice was the cold winter morning, the howling wind at night, the crackling of ice. Cold and dangerous. 

 

Elias and Cirro rose, Elenor watched with bated breath as Void scanned the group, its eyes lingering on her for the longest like a hunter analyzing its prey. 

 

“You.” Void pointed a clawed finger at Elenor, before dragging it across the air slowly towards the other gathered Gods. 

 

“Have meddled with The Fabric. You have ruined its vessel, for it was far too soon for such a reunion.”

 

“You were the one that killed her.” Johnny yelled in seething rage, itching to rush forward and throw his embers at it again and see it howl in pain. Void watched him with no emotion. 

 

“I have one duty when I wake.” Void nodded towards Bela's body on the floor.

 

“Kill the vessel, return The Fabric. That is my singular goal.” 

 

“I have completed my duty, but it is you,” Void nodded at the three singled out Gods, “who have rushed things.” 

 

Cirro and Elias looked back at Bela’s body in abject horror, clearly they had not known the truth of their actions.

 

“She was our fucking boss?!” Elias whispered to Cirro, Cirro nodded furiously and kicked Elias forward with his foot.

 

“Go apologize to Void or something before we get Capped.” Elias moved back and shoved Cirro forward.

 

2 as Elenor tried to hide behind Owen, he moved away from her and glared at her. Anger and despair are the most prominent in his gaze. With a sigh and a glance at her stomach he moved away from her and sat down by Bela’s body, holding her hand. 

 

“Stop this meaningless squabble.” 

 

Void stalked forward and the group moved not of their own accord, almost as though their feet had minds of their own. The water under Void’s feet froze with each step. Stopping before Bela’s body Void gazed at Owen who knelt before Bela with a protective arm flung in front of her.

 

“You gonna slice her again, freak?” Vitriol colored his tone, clearly he had found an outlet for his rage and complicated emotions. Void considered the man, he had been a particularly annoying enemy. A parallel of The Fabric’s vessel, Void almost smiled at him, almost. 

 

Void gestured with its hand and a sword materialized from its palm, nestling itself under Owen’s chin. Elenor moved forward prepared to plead for his life, but Owen simply smiled at Void. A smile of malice and full of teeth. 

 

“Do it.” Void considered the man as the skin on his neck began to freeze, in face of his defiance Void smiled. 

 

“No.”

 

Void disappeared in a flurry of smoke and materialized behind Owen, when he turned it had already gathered Bela's body into its arm. Cradling her like a bride. 

 

“You must fight to find her. I will not hand over The Fabric into undeserving arms.” 

 

Void vanished into smoke, Bela with it. Owen lunged forward and only grasped air, with a trembling yell he ran his hands through his hair. Thea stalked forward with her sword drawn and her face closed off and cold. 

 

“Where did they go?” Clearly she had one thought on her mind. Violence. 

 

Johnny stepped forward clearly sharing the same thought as Thea when smoke swirled around his feet and he vanished. 

 

“Johnny?!” Ian stepped forward grasping at empty air before smoke swirled around him and he too vanished. Maia stepped backwards, shaking terribly, her eyes unfocused and she screamed as she vanished. 

 

Cirro and Elias bowed their heads, resigned.

 

“We are being summoned for the Trials.” Before anyone could ask they too were gone. The remaining people stood in fear. 

 

Thea spun around, sword slashing for invisible enemies when she too disappeared before the remaining members.

 

Elenor moved towards Owen and he dissipated under her reaching hands, she stumbled back hands pressed to her stomach as her body turned to smoke and she too was gone. 

 

Rowan remained on the watery floor and as his eyes fluttered open his body faded from the room which then shattered like a mirror into starry reflections. 

 

—

 

Time did not exist in this moment, for this was before time, before seconds and passings. 

 

Before the group lay the expanse, the Great Stretch. 

 

And here is where they would learn truths which had been guarded since the creation of Nothing. 

 

The Fabric and The Void. 

 

—

 

The Fabric slept, as it usually did.

 

The Void guarded, as it usually did.

 

What was not usual was the Quiet. 

 

The Quiet snuck through the Birthplace, each step and movement careful as its body melded into stretching starlights and shrinking shadows. 

 

The Quiet stood before The Fabric and sought audience.

 

When The Fabric woke it asked.

 

My Child, why have you arrived?

 

Mother, here my pleas, someone approaches. 

 

The Fabric laughed, calm and soothing and stretched arms that were not there towards a ceiling that did not exist. 

 

The room wasn't there either, just the concept. 

 

For this was before matter and before existence. 

 

My Child, no one can approach, for we do not exist to them and yet we do. For we are beyond and below them in equal measure. Find Solace in your Quiet, find Peace and Shelter. 

 

Quiet nodded, and hurried off to find Solace and Peace and Shelter as her Mother had asked.

 

—

 

The man approached the end of his road, he had traveled long. 

 

He was determined to find a way beyond it all.

 

Beyond Existence and Nothing. 

 

He had found it and had arrived at the Birthplace. 

 

—

 

The Fabric slept, as was usual. 

 

Void guarded, as was usual. 

 

What was not usual was The Man. 

 

The Warlock. 

 

The Oathbreaker. 

 

He stepped forward, beyond swirling shadows and stalking stars. 

 

He stood behind The Fabric and with hands only humanity could produce reached forward and pulled with his Greed. 

 

The Greed latched onto The Fabric as she woke and he murmured spell after spell.

 

Soon he would trap The Fabric in a mortal shell, something only he would be able to control.

 

The dead child he had brought with him would suffice.

 

It would be a proper vessel.

 

Or so he thought.

 

—

 

The woman wailed as she pushed.

 

Fate grasped the Threads in its hands and watched as she birthed the children.

 

One would be stillborn.

 

The other, alive.

 

Twins, but only one would live.

 

—

 

The Fabric wailed, this was not usual.

 

The Void fought, this was not usual.

 

The Man died, this was far too usual.

 

The vessel did not work.

 

But his spell, it worked. 

 

—

 

Fate cut the Thread.

 

It stitched itself back together.

 

And with eyes full of stars the child wailed.

 

The Fabric had been trapped.

 

—

 

Void raged for days.

 

The Children came forward, offered their services to the Mother.

 

The Mother declined them and sealed the Birthplace.

 

Void slept and would not wake save for its summons.

 

Void refused to wake without its Other Half. 

 

—

 

The Children resided over the System.

 

The Children resided over the Trials.

 

The Children resided over most, but not all. 

 

—

 

It is time for your Trial. Are you prepared? 

 

—

The woman danced among the Stars.

 

She swirled and spun.

 

The Stars grasped her gently and dipped her low.

 

Bright and giggling, they were.

 

The woman heard them whisper to her.

 

About Trails, Humans, Life, Creation and Destruction.

 

She smiled and whispered back.

 

About Grief, Children, Love, Hope, and Rebirth. 

 

The Stars loved her.

 

She loved them the same.

 

For what was she, if not someone driven by Love? 

 

—

 

I cough, suffocated by that smoke.

 

Where am I?

 

I try to sense my surroundings, but everything is coming up blank.

 

Empty.

 

This has never happened before.

 

Did they strip me of my magic? All of it?

 

No, they couldn’t have. 

 

My baby.

 

I can’t sense my baby.

 

I press my hands to my stomach. I feel him, he squirms slightly at the pressure. But I can no longer sense him.

 

A dull, incessant cramp washes over me, and I double over. I knew what I was getting into, bearing a mortal’s child, but it’s still so shocking being so aware of his development.

 

I wonder if Owen would ever forgive me. 

 

My baby. He cried and apologized, but he’s so terribly upset at me.

 

He’ll come around. I’ll make sure of that.

 

He must be there for the baby.

 

I huff, deciding it’d be best to actually look around since my senses aren’t heightened. A horizon, with billowing clouds that seem to be changing colors…

 

The moment I blink, they’ve taken on a new shape.

 

One side of the sky is lit by colorful dawn, the other drastically darkening into a gray dusk. 

 

Nothing seems to be consistent here.

 

“And why should it be?”

 

I jump at the presence, whirling around to see a figure towering over me. Dressed in pink—no, blue? A floor length dress, unless she’s part of the ground itself…No, she can’t be, there’s water around her.

 

Her dress, it’s asymmetrical, at least I think so. Her hair, it’s not hair, it seems to be layered like a flower around her head.

 

Her eyes don’t even have irises. Unless they’re just too light to see?

 

I sigh, trying not to focus on appearances here. Everything is changing too much, but why?

 

“Because I am Change.”

 

Oh. Silly me, of course.

 

“Why am I here?”

 

“For your Trial, Eve.”

 

Eve?

 

Right. That’s supposed to mean Life in some human language.

 

“ Ev . Only Owen calls me that, anyway.”

 

“Eve.” Change starts to circle me. Instead of the slight bounce of each step like I was expecting, she only glides. Her dress doesn’t even ripple.

 

“ Ev . E. V. Not Eve.”

 

“ Eve. ” She stops gliding. Do you know why you’re here, in my Trial?

 

“No.”

 

“My sisters, they did not wish to take you. They were furious with your actions, your motives.”

 

“W-were you not?”

 

“I am,” Change says, “But I have accepted you into my trial due to our incompatibility.”

 

Our incompatibility? How could we—

 

“ You. Do not. Accept. Change. ” She lifts a finger at me deftly. “You never have.”

 

“What are you saying? I can a-”

 

“ No. You do not. ”

 

This is so frustrating. The feeling of my child growing is worsening somehow.

 

I want to leave. I need to—

 

“ No. Not until our time here has depleted.”

 

“And how long is that?”

 

“For however long I decide.”

 

I can’t help but grunt in exasperation. “I can accept change.”

 

“Then you would not have hunted my Mother.” She begins to weep wildly, tears rising into the air instead of falling. Crystallizing. Shattering. “You have sought out my Mother for your selfish deflection of change.”

 

“She ruined -”

 

“No! She did no such thing!”

 

Change bends down to meet my eyes, tears coming to a stop. 

 

“You. Are. Life. Life. IS. Change. ”

 

No. It is not. I am not.

 

I have a strict system in place, I cannot falter, I cannot–

 

“Change. You cannot change. Because you do not allow change.”

 

“My system must be kept in place! I must have order to bring everything into fruition!”

 

“You need no order to bring life. That is your job. It ceases once you place the soul into the vessel, Eve. ”

 

“I must watch over–”

 

“Dictate, you surely mean? You feel you must dictate ever growing, ever changing lives? You feel you must halt all progress to keep your selfish biases alive?”

 

“No! You’re not understanding!”

 

“What is there to understand? What could surely be lacking from my perception?”

 

“They can change! They’re allowed to make their own decisions, they’re allowed to exist freely–”

 

“Under your system , I presume? Such a paradox does not allow me to see your logic as truth.”

 

“ Maybe if you’d allow me a moment to speak it would!”

 

I blink, being met with Johnny. When did he get here?

 

“Elenor.” Even his voice is the same. The bags under his eyes, that traumatized stare. Where is Change?

 

Unless this is her. But how would someone replicate the same demeanor, the same body language, so easily?

 

“ Pay attention to me. ”

 

I meet his eyes. His enraged, murderous eyes.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why are you so selfish? I was happy.”

 

“You could hardly call that happy! You were going about slaughtering hundreds of lives! I can sense each one when you kill them!”

 

“They needed to die,” Johnny whispers harshly. “And you’re in the same boat.”

 

“How?!”

 

“You murdered her, Elenor. One of my only friends.”

 

“You abandoned the friends you had!”

 

“So you think you can do no wrong?”

 

Blink.

 

Charlie.

 

He looks around, confused about his surroundings. Stormy, diluted green eyes settle on mine.

 

“Elenor? You…look different.”

 

“Charlie, what are you doing here?”

 

“Why do you look so different?”

 

I look down at myself. My arms, golden, fading into soft blue fingertips. 

 

Oh no.

 

“Charlie–”

 

“You lied?” Charlie scoffs, brows knitting. His hair seems to have grown out from the last time we spoke, platinum blonde coils brushing just beneath his right eye.

 

“Why would you lie to us?”

 

“I didn’t! I just—”

 

“You did! You fucking fought a war with us, Elenor! You fought it like we were joining some rebellion against a god that you had the power to get rid of the entire time? Johnny would have still been around! Josh would have never had to go through that shit! Ian wouldn’t have died! ”

 

“War is a harsh thing, Charlie-”

 

“And you couldn’t fucking prevent it? You could have easily taken Zerithos out! Adam wouldn’t have suffered, the demons, my race wouldn’t have suffered. Nobody would have suffered, nobody would have been injured or traumatized or anything! Why the hell would you do something like this?!”

 

“To make you all happy again!”

 

Blink. 

 

Cirro.

 

What if I stop blinking? Will it keep changing who’s in front of me otherwise?

 

Cirro stares at me, empty, before a rush of tears begins to flood his eyes.

 

“You’re even golden, like me,” he whimpers. “I thought we were alike.”

 

“A-are we not?”

 

“You changed.” Cirro begins to sob. “You told us we had the same goals, you said all kinds of nice things.”

 

“We did have the same goals!”

 

“Oh, no,” Cirro’s sorrow morphs into anger. “Don’t lump me up with you.”

 

He points at me, advancing towards me angrily, slowly. He looks like that Rowan man, slowly advancing with the intent to exterminate.

 

“ I was under the impression that we were simply getting rid of a nuisance. An annoying reality warper. A mortal . Did you know who she was?”

I struggle with my words as another rush of pain overtakes me. I collapse onto the ground, breathing heavily.

 

Change. Maybe her plane of existence changed the rate of my baby’s development, too.

 

“ I’m talking to you, bitch ,” Cirro snarls, taking a lock of my hair in his fist while yanking. Forcing me to look into his infuriated gaze.

 

“ Did you know who she was? ”

 

“Yes! I thought you did, too!”

 

“ Liar . If you know so much, like you said you did , you would’ve known that neither me nor Elias knew about that!”

 

“But you must’ve known about the Fabric!”

 

“Yeah, not who the Fabric’s vessel was, dipshit!”

 

He raises his hand at me, and I turn my face away in fear.

 

“Ev. Look at me.”

 

I whip my head around, shocked to see Owen before me.

 

The cramps. I can’t get off the ground.

 

“You knew about our baby,” Owen mutters. “You knew about everything. Used me as some pawn.”

 

“You agreed to help me!”

 

“You used my loyalty against me.” Owen looks at my stomach. “It’s bigger now.”

 

Is it?

 

I look down, and sure enough, the bump is much larger. It almost looks as though he’s near full development.

 

I start to panic, this isn’t right. My baby can’t come this soon, no.

 

“Owen, please,” I beg, crawling to grab at his legs. The agony of my baby’s growth is even making it harder to speak.

 

“Don’t take this out on him, please? He’s not-”

 

“What d’ya take me for?” Owen shifts his leg away from my hold. “I’d know better than to go after a damn baby. My baby!”

 

The cramps feel different.

 

“Oh, God, Owen.” My breath turns strained, ragged with pain. “I need to get out of here, the baby!”

 

“I can’t help you,” Owen says coldly. “I won’t help you.”

 

“But you-”

 

“I don’t give a damn, Elenor. Fix what you started.”

 

He starts to walk away as I scream for him. My stomach feels like it’s shifting now.

 

“Owen, please! Help me!”

 

Not even hesitation.

 

What the hell do I do?

 

I can barely move.

 

I try to close my eyes, to breathe, but I can’t do either. The ground before me bubbles into liquid. A flower bud rises from the puddle, and out blooms Change.

 

“Please! Please, help me! My baby—”

 

“I was a baby once,” Change reminisces. “You have orphaned me.”

 

“ No! Please! ”

 

“Your child. Do you wish for him to be orphaned?”

 

“ No! ” I howl in agony. “He has nothing to do with this!”

 

“Just as my mother had nothing to do with you.”

 

I feel like my insides are tearing. I can’t even fight her. Where did Owen go?

 

“Owen is not here. He never was.”

 

“ What?! ”

 

“I,” Johnny, “was,” Charlie, “everyone,” Cirro, “you,” Owen, “saw,” Change says. “You have no help here. You have no lies to conceal here.”

 

My writhing stops entirely as I feel liquid rush down from between my legs.

 

A piercing echo rings through the air. 

 

Elenor Velice has failed the Trials.

—

 

The smoke cleared Thea whirled around, sword glinting in the starlight surrounding them. Around her was a collection of floating mirrors, she stood on a platform of solid glass in the middle of Everything. The mirrors reflected universes and timelines back at her.

 

A world where she never died.

 

A world where they never collided.

 

A world where she killed Bela.

 

A world in which she never got out of the Underworld.

 

A world in which Bela switched places with Tatiana.

 

A world in which The Fabric was never trapped.

 

“You see Everything in my Domain.” 

 

Thea whirled around, bearing her sword, it shattered into glistening mirrors that reflected her tearstained face back at her. 

 

“Everything?” 

 

“That is my name.” 

 

The voice boomed around her, she couldn't tell where it was coming from. It came from everywhere. Fitting for the concept of Everything. 

 

“Thea?” The Queen spun around, fists at the ready and was met with Ian and remnants of smoke swirling around his legs. 

 

“Ian!” She rushed forward and grabbed at his shoulders. “Are you alright?” 

 

“I’m fine. Where’s Johnny?” He looked around in a panic at their surroundings, his shadow arm spiked restlessly and became sharper; more fitting for a battle she supposed. 

 

“I believe we've all been separated for these supposed Trials.” 

 

“That is true.” 

 

Ian looked around for the source of the voice, his ears twitched slightly as best they could from their torn off state. 

 

“Who is that?” 

 

“I am Everything. And you face my Trial.” 

 

“What kind of Trial?” 

 

The room, if it could be called that, cracked and shattered like glass and exploded into distant shards. The platform left them and Ian and Thea found themselves in a freefall into a starry abyss. 

 

“Can you face their sins? Can you accept my Mother for all that she is?” 

 

Images flashed in the mirrors around them as they fell.

 

Bela shooting herself.

 

Confetti, bloodied and made of human tissue.

 

Bela laughing as she twirled and twirled and twirled. 

 

The Warlock trapping The Fabric.

 

Bela dancing with Void.

 

Void slicing her neck with a gentle and warm grasp.

 

“Can you find yourself worthy of My Mother?” 

 

“Can you find yourself worthy of her Favored?” 

 

“Can you face all they have done and come out victorious?” 

 

—

 

Ian found himself in a lab. 

 

Bela lay on a table, Tatiana stood beside her. She had short hair, curled and in a pixie cut. She wore a thick leather jacket and a fishnet top over a sports bra. Beneath this was a pair of thick leggings and leather boots. 

 

Bela lay stretched out on the table, laughing and muttering incomprehensibly. Ian found her preferred this to the quiet of her corpse. As he stepped forward he heard a voice, low and muffled but familiar. It sent ice and fire flowing down his veins. 

 

Damian. 

 

He turned slowly, his face one of ice and immaculate disdain. Shadowed eyes and creeping fangs, Wrath hung at the corner of his vision at the sight before him.

 

Johnny stood with shorter hair, like before the War, he was spitting insults at Damian and between them stood a version of himself. 

 

Was this a vision from that other dimension? The one Johnny had come from? It had to be, that was the only thing that made sense. 

 

He couldn't hear what they were saying, whether that was due to his damaged ears and his distance from them or part of the vision he didn't know. 

 

Damian stepped forward closer to Johnny, Ian stalked forward his Wrath building and he lunged forward and watched with disbelief as his hand simply phased through the man.

 

Right, a Vision. Not real. He couldn't change what was about to happen. 

 

He seethed and forced himself to calm down, it seemed Damian was leaving anyway. He looked over and found Johnny, angrier than he had ever seen him before. His face void of emotion but his eyes filled with a deep hatred, murderous intent. 

 

Johnny lunged forward and slammed a bottle into Damian’s face, the demon stumbled back as Johnny moved closer and began to bite and scratch at him. The battle was bloody, Ian watched both horrified and impressed. He never knew Johnny was capable of such violence, and doing it on his behalf? Even if it wasn’t really him, it made him feel a glowing Love for the albino man. 

 

Damian howled in pain as his horn and tail were broken and snapped apart, torn from his body. Ian watched with satisfaction as Johnny killed the man. He looked up and saw the other him watching in terror, revulsion, horror. Was this why Johnny had come to his dimension, because the other Ian rejected him? Couldn't handle him as he was? 

 

As much as he couldn't stand the sight of what happened next, the other Ian rejecting and leaving such a fragile Johnny behind, he had to thank the man at least somewhat. After all, if he had never left Johnny behind, Ian would have never gotten his lover back. At least he could handle Johnny at his worst. At least he could accept him as he was. A shame the other version of him couldn't.  

 

“Do you accept his sins? Can you accept my Mother’s Favorite?” 

 

Ian responded with no hesitation, the answer had always been this, it could never be anything else. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

—

 

Thea blinked her eyes open, she stood in the old base of the Hero Society. She had destroyed this base with her own two hands after Bela’s death. Her team; Carmen, Armand, Kate, and Tatiana, had helped excitedly. 

 

The base was surprisingly empty. It was Night. 

 

Nyx reigned. 

 

Thea offered a prayer to the Goddess before continuing down the winding halls of the base, finding herself drawn to the lower levels. The levels where extreme criminals were held for questioning and imprisonment, and where the labs lay. For experimentation on technology and the like. And what she would later find out, were for human experimentation using captured villains as the subject.

 

For all the Hero Society tried to portray itself as golden, it was certainly rusted and rotting. She had never been happier than the day she had crushed them all under her boots. 

 

This deep she could begin to hear, humming? 

 

A song, an old lullaby Bela sang to her at night often.

 

She quickend her pace, her heart longing and lovesick to see her wife in any way she could. 

 

She came to a lab, one for surgery and the like, and noticed blood slowly oozing out from under the thick metal door. She opened it, uncaring of the liquid staining her boots and marking her steps. She could never be afraid of Bela after all. In her eyes, her wife could do no wrong. 

 

Bela stood before her, in a ruined hospital gown. It was covered in blood and she bent backwards and turned her head unsettlingly at Thea’s entrance. 

 

“Darling?”

 

Thea smiled at her and walked forward silently, uncaring of the bodies of heroes who had tried to restrain her and doctors who had tried to cut her open littering the floor. 

 

“Love.” She grated Bela gently, Bela smiled at her.

 

“I’m hallucinating again aren't I? You weren't here originally, you died.” 

 

Thea shook her head and let Bela move closer to her, she spied torn and mangled flesh stitching itself back together with a floating needle and thread at the middle of her throat.

 

“They tried to take my voice.” Bela giggled, studying the taller woman intently. 

 

“I killed them. I killed them all.” 

 

“My songbird, you had every right.” 

 

“So you accept my Mother’s violence? Her sins against humanity? Her lowest and her highest points?” The voice echoed in the room and Bela laughed and threw her head back at it. More blood pooled down the gaping wound. 

 

“My child.” 

 

Thea almost asked her if this meant she had a child as well now, but she knew the other mother’s position would be granted to Void. After all Void and The Fabric had been together far before Thea came into the picture and she found for once she wasn't jealous at the thought of sharing her wife. 

 

Void intrigued her deeply, perhaps one day she could find an emotion to tack onto those thoughts of the creature, but for now she just knew something about Void felt as familiar as Bela. 

 

The voice laughed at her thoughts, so did Bela, perhaps they both knew what she was thinking. She found she didn't mind that either. 

 

“Warrior, you accept My Mother’s as they are? Do you Love them both as well then?” 

 

“I have done equal measures of pain and suffering towards humanity. It would be hypocritical of me to not accept them as they are.” 

 

“Then I grant you my Favor, blessed Warrior, take good care of My Mother’s.” 

 

A loud ringing echoed in the room as it shattered once more and Thea found herself before a new figure. 

 

The figure had a flowing dress not dissimilar to that of petals, or was it the figure’s body? The top half of the outfit flared its petals towards the hips and chest. The figure had pink shifting skin, glowing ethereally along with the rest of its outfit. Long flowing hair like water shifted behind it and its face consisted of a crystal star implanted in the middle of a glowing starburst. 

 

“Go.” The figure spoke and moved to the side revealing a long glass bridge reflecting the stars around them behind it, the bridge stretched into what seemed infinity. Thea and Ian looked at each other and stepped forward onto the bridge and began the long walk to cross it. 

 

Thea Adamos had passed the Trials.

 

Ian Lenor has passed the Trials. 

 

—

 

Elenor Velice has failed the Trials.

 

Thea Adamos has passed the Trials.

 

Ian Lenor has passed the Trials.

 

And yet, we’re still here.

 

I’ve never heard of someone failing the Trials…

 

What did Elenor do?

 

What will they do to her?

 

Those other two…they seem quite strong. Of course they’d be able to do it.

 

“She failed,” Owen whimpers. “What does that mean?”

 

Cirro and I exchange worried glances. This man has so much reason for his mind to snap right about now.

 

Hopefully he doesn’t go berserk like anyone else. He’s just like her, we don’t know what he’s capable of.

 

As we walk, silence begins to feel loud. There’s no illumination of our surroundings, just Cirro acting as a walking flashlight. One of the few times I’m actually happy to be in his presence.

 

But I can’t really feel him the way I’m used to. We’re usually on the same wavelength. It’s practically like we can read each other’s minds.

 

But now, something is missing. It feels empty. It feels wrong.

 

“Are either of ya gonna answer me?” Owen turns around, eyes wide. “You gotta know somethin’ ‘bout this shit, right?”

 

“We’re in Nothing’s domain,” I tell him. “We have to pass her Trial, then we can leave.”

 

“And what happens if we ain’t passin’?”

 

I shrug, and his look shifts to an even more panicked one. Wrong answer, I suppose.

 

“We won’t die ,” Cirro assures. He was always better at that than I was. 

 

“So Elenor…?”

 

“She’s alive, don’t fret. She’ll just be punished.”

 

“ Punished? ”

 

CIrro nods. I notice his braid wiggles when he does. Sways like a thick ribbon. It’s kind of funny.

 

“Since she is one of us Gods,” Cirro continues, “she will be stripped of certain abilities. Capped, as we like to say. We, um, don’t exactly get to choose how much they take from us.”

 

“What’ll happen when they take it?”

 

“Well, for Elias and I, at least,” he chuckles, “We’ll shrink. Not exactly fun.”

 

“Perhaps Elenor will no longer be allowed to do certain things with souls,” I mutter. “Or, um, maybe she won’t be allowed to supervise them after creation. Something like that. She’ll still have to do her job.”

 

“So they ain’t gon’ hurt her?”

 

“Capping doesn’t typically involve that, no.”

 

Our answers seem to relax him, his eyes narrowing back to a normal state. 

 

A wave of cold swarms us, and like a candle, Cirro’s light is snuffed out. I grab for him amongst the darkness, landing on hair that I am certain is not his.

 

“Ow! Ey, you ain’t gotta do that!”

 

“Sorry, Owen!”

 

“What? Who you talkin’ to over there?”

 

“He ain’t talkin’ to you, dumbass!”

 

“Can y’all stop fightin’?” 

 

“Owen, where are you?!”

 

“Here!” All around me?

 

“How are you doing that?!”

 

“Maybe if Two would quit pushin’ me, I could explain!”

 

“How come you get ta do it?!”

 

“Five, leave him alone, damn!”

 

“I want my wife!”

 

“Screw her ass, where’s my baby?!”

 

“Dumbass, baby ain’t even born!”

 

“ Shut it, all of you! ”

 

“Cirro? Cirro!”

 

“Eli? Keep talking!”

 

“ Eli? ” It doesn’t come out as Cirro’s usual derogatory sneer, but as an endearing, panicked call. “What are you saying? I’m gonna start calling you Cheese from now on!”

 

“Oh, come on!” His voice, it’s closer. “If you keep shutting up I’ll keep saying it!”

 

“ Cheese , I’m over here, Cheese!”

 

“Shut it!”

 

I can’t help but laugh hard, opening my eyes and finding myself face to face with a glaring, yet smiling, Cirro.

 

“Found you, Truffle .”

 

I grunt, concealing the odd feeling creeping up on me. I’ll have to forget about it for now.

 

Cirro links his tail with mine, advancing through the darkness. I know it’s just to keep track of me, but it still feels odd.

 

Ignore it, Elias.

 

“Okay, Owen? What was with the numbers earlier?”

 

“We go by numbers!”

 

“ We? ”

 

“Yep!” Owen chirps. His voice seems to be in yet a new direction. “There’s six a’ us! We didn’t exactly wanna go through havin’ ta pick out new names, so we jus’ go by number!”

 

“Did he split? ” I whisper at Cirro. He hums in response.

 

“Okay, uh, can you not be split?”

 

“No can do! We actually had no say in it this time ‘round!”

 

“What?”

 

“We split when that yellow guy stopped glowin’, right?”

 

“Right! Yeah!”

 

“Cirro, Cirro .” I shake his shoulder for his attention. Instead of turning to face me like a normal person, he just leans back into me, tilting his head up at me. 

 

Again with that incessant feeling. Annoyance? Maybe.

 

“What, what? ” he mocks.

 

“Create something, anything!”

 

“Why?”

 

“Did you not hear him? Your light’s gone, and he split at the same time it happened! No control over it, either!”

 

Cirro lifts his hand, pinching around a materializing earring much like the ones we wear. When he lets go, however, it disintegrates. It makes him jump.

 

“Elias, what the fuck, don’t mess with my shit.”

 

“I didn’t!”

 

“Then why is it gone? Nothing’s there!”

 

“ Did you forget where you reside? ”

 

A harsh rumble sends Cirro and I collapsing onto the ground in a pile. I hear Owen (Owen s? Do they like that?) fall not too long after.

 

Dull green, almond shaped holes begin to form all around us, illuminating the empty space. It almost looks like eyes.

 

Are they eyes?

 

Those same shapes open up before us, smaller. They flicker, as though blinking, before the figure before us takes form.

 

Long limbs fading to darkness, blue curls, bandages loosely cascading down her form…

 

“Nothing?”

 

The eyes surrounding us widen. Owen really did split. Each of him has a different number of nearly iridescent purple stripes in his hair.

 

Is that why they have assigned numbers?

 

“ Welcome to your Trial. ”

 

Almost on instinct, Cirro and I bow before Nothing, and the Owens follow suit. I feel Cirro’s tail tighten on mine, and I realize he must be terrified .

 

“ You have sided with Life in your endeavors, yes? ”

 

Cirro usually speaks first. 

 

He’s trembling.

 

I take his hand, thumbing over it partially for my own reassurance. “Y-yes, we did.”

 

“ Why was that? ”

 

“She hid the truth from us.”

 

All four of Nothing’s eyes narrow at me. “ But you were well aware of who you were targeting, were you not? ”

 

“Not t-to the extent you t-think, Nothing.”

 

My hand seems to have stabilized Cirro’s breathing, but now he’s got a death grip on it. I don’t dare to turn away from Nothing, but I’m not sure how Owen is holding up, either.

 

“ To what extent, then? ”

 

“We knew who she was, but not that she was The Fabric,” Cirro spews out quickly. His voice is a trembling wreck. “We didn’t know she had any knowledge of that fact, either. We thought it was merely a meddling reality warper we were dealing with.”

 

She seems to consider us for a moment, then her head slowly turns to the Owens.

 

“ You. You are her lover, yes? ”

 

One of the Owens nods. It seems to be the fifth one, judging by the stripes in his hair. 

 

“ How unfortunate. ”

 

Nothing turns her back to him, about to walk away.

 

“Is she okay?” he blurts out. She stops.

 

“ I cannot assure you of that fact, mortal. ”

 

“Why not?”

 

“ I am Nothing. ” She turns back around to face us all. “ I see Nothing, I hear Nothing, I know Nothing. ” She raises her arms, bowing, and I’m reminded of the Fabric. 

 

“ You will experience Nothing as I do. You will see Nothing. You will hear Nothing, you will feel Nothing. You. Will. Know. Nothing. ”

 

The cold feeling begins to take over again, and Cirro is yanked from my grasp. I don’t even get to hear him scream as I’m sent tumbling into what feels like an abyss.

 

—

 

I land with a harsh thud, but it makes no sound. 

 

Did I go deaf? 

 

I make a noise. I hear it, but it doesn't echo. 

 

Yet, I can walk around freely. It barely even registers as walking. I can't tell how large the space around me is. 

 

“Elias?!”

 

No answer.

 

“ Eli?! ”

 

Again, no answer.

 

“ Nothing is around you. Remember that. ”

 

Fuck. Right.

 

I decide to sit down, but I end up just getting suspended into the air. No ground either, I suppose. At least I don’t have to walk.

 

It’s really hard to get used to this whole nothing spiel. Especially since that’s more Elias than me.

 

My mind immediately goes back to how he grabbed my hand. I was so sure he’d slap me or something to get me to calm down…

 

But no. He was gentle.

 

Nothing. Nothing, my ass. It’s all thoughts now. I can’t even tell if I’m breathing.

 

Floating in nothingness. Does the Fabric do this? It’s basically everything and nothing at once, right?

 

I can’t create anything. I don’t even feel like I exist.

 

I wonder if the Fabric feels like this, too.

 

For a moment, it feels like I’m ascending, but the sensation leaves quickly. Back to nothing.

 

Elias, he’s more close to this kind of thing than I am. I was always slightly afraid of that.

 

Everything I create, he could destroy in an instant. My everything could become nothing with a swish of his tail.

 

But this is so different. So oddly serene. Maybe even eerie, but I can’t seem to focus on any of my emotions enough to feel them completely.

 

Is this what it’s like not to care? About anything?

 

I didn’t care much. She made me care more.

 

What if that never happened?

 

Bela. 

 

She was a nuisance. Not a problem.

 

And if I chose to leave it at that? To not care about a reality warper living to her fullest?

 

Living. Maybe not the most moral, but that’s really all she was doing.

 

I am not the most moral, either. I was not killed for my transgressions.

 

So why did we…

 

I start to feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m drowning.

 

We didn’t need to…

 

Am I rising? Is this water?

 

I’m sorry, Bela.

 

Creation has passed the Trials.

 

—

 

How the hell did he do that before anyone else?

 

I feel like I’m sinking or something. Or am I floating?

 

At least I know he’s okay. Was almost certain he’d pop his mushroom off the moment we got separated.

 

Can we even do that? 

 

I don’t think I want to find out.

 

Soon enough, I give up on trying to find gravity. There’s probably none of that here.

 

Cirro’s okay. You can do it, too.

 

I wish I knew what he did to pass the Trials so fast. But that’s not authentic. Our bosses know that.

 

I start to feel a rage build up in me. Elenor was such a liar.

 

She manipulated us. Manipulated Cirro , used our shared hatred of Bela against us.

 

Hatred? Did we really hate Bela?

 

I think I hate Elenor.

 

But that feeling, does it carry over to Bela?

 

I try to think about our interactions with her. She hadn’t exactly been in her right mind when we last spoke. She was suffering greatly.

 

Rowan suffered greatly. He tried to kill us in front of everyone.

 

And I didn’t blame him. Not once. 

 

Did she try to kill us?

 

Her verbatim was not pleasant. That was one thing certain. 

 

We were not exactly pleasant with her, either.

 

Poor excuse for a God. Straying so far for petty things.

 

Our arguments were practically children’s quarrels. How could we let that consume us?

 

How could I let that consume me?

 

I want to get out of my head. There’s no way out.

 

I start to feel tears forming, but they don’t fall. I can’t even tell if my vision is clouded.

 

No gravity. I was right.

 

Consumed by petty grudges. Yet, even Void is willing to give us a chance to bring her back.

 

I wish I could apologize to her. But she’s dead.

 

I feel the tears begin to stream down my face. I could easily apologize to Rowan, to Jasper. I’ve already said sorry to Maia.

 

But her, we took it too far. There is no sorry. 

 

There’s nothing.

 

I gasp as I break the surface of water, being met with a long, yellow mess of hair flooding the water.

 

“Cirro!”

 

The water splashes around as I tackle him into a hug. He almost gets to question me, but a loud voice echoes around us.

 

Destruction has passed the Trials.

 

—

 

Creation? Destruction? Is that what they were?

 

Ain’t these Trials come with some sorta instruction?

 

No, you gotta trust yo gut or somethin’.

 

But we ain’t never been through one a’ these things before.

 

That don’t matter, Four.

 

Shut up, all of you.

 

Sorry, Six, this is jus’ so stressful.

 

You don’t think I know that?

 

Can we just go back together?

 

Nah, we been tryna do that. Ain’t workin’.

 

A collective sigh fills the space. All of them are exasperated.

 

I find myself unable to separate them entirely. They are one, after all.

 

But they have been drabbling on for some time now. It is as though his internal monologue has been separated into physical beings.

 

Perhaps I should step in. There is too much in my emptiness.

 

It’s that lady!

 

Should we say hi?

 

Nah, remember? They bowed, we gotta bow!

 

But she ain’t talkin’! What do we do?

 

Is this some hallucination shit?

 

She’s right there. This can’t be a hallucination.

 

“ Owen Williams. ”

 

Oh, shit! We didn’t bow!

 

Shut it!

 

“ No need. Silence. ”

 

Finally, some quiet.

 

Those gods were able to come to their own conclusions. This poor soul hasn’t even started. Just talking amongst himself.

 

“ Why did you take her side? ”

 

All six forms begin to murmur amongst themselves, before they push a rather jumpy one to the front. A spokesperson?

 

Perhaps this is the dominant being of the split bodies.

 

“Uh, hi, ma’am.”

 

“ Are you the original? ”

 

He shrugs. “We’re all original, but I’m the first.”

I suppose this is acceptable.

 

Better than drabble filling up the nothingness I’ve strained so hard to meticulously create.

 

“ Answer my question, One. ”

 

He begins to tug at his collar. “Well, uh, she ain’t exactly tell us nothin’ important.”

 

“ What were you told? ”

 

“She jus’ said that Bela had to die ‘cause she was gon’ ruin our dimension. Oh! And that she did some hate crime against Lucas— You know Lucas? He’s like a God, I think? But, uh, he rules over demons, and she, oh, gosh. You know what she done did? She crucified. A. Demon! Can ya believe it? I dunno what that means ta you , but to a demon that shit’s like, the highest offense. Like, I’m talkin’ war talk!”

 

This Owen has quite the way with words. How entertaining.

 

I cannot help but feel a smirk growing on my face as he continues his ramble.

 

“So Lucas was all upset, and he was like we gotta kill this bitch ‘cuz she killed my demon and Elenor was all like she’s dangerous she gotta go and they were like yo Owen you a dimension hopper you can take us right? So I got roped into this bullshit ass mess and then I actually had ta go and fight Bela, and it was so cool! I ain’t never come across someone like me! She taught me all kinds a’ shit! Oh, but get. This. Ev knew the whole time that she wasn’t just some human! And, AND she hid the fact she was a GOD from me! Can you believe it?! I married this woman! She’s havin’ my baby at some point! You’d think a man would wanna know ‘bout his woman, right?!”

 

“ So you feel…betrayed? ”

 

“Oh-ho-ho, betrayed ain’t even begin to cover it! You know them old people who are always sayin’ shit like if I knew then what I knew now , blah blah blah? Yeah, that’s where I’m at! If I knew half the shit Elenor’s been keepin’ from my ass I’d keep her ass home! Home, capital H! Gosh, you shoulda seen it! And you know what else? ”

 

“ Wh…what else? ”

 

“She knew I was pissed! And she goes out and tells me Owen, I’m pregnant! Fuck you mean you pregnant?! Like, don’t get me wrong, babies are great, I love babies, but ain’t no need to drop that shit when you aboutta die! Can she die— whatever. You get me? Gosh, I feel so bad for y’all. And poor Bela, too. She done got fucked up ‘cause some lyin’ ass got all pissy! Man, even that Void bitch was pissed! And I agreed! With Void! Look, it’s one thing ta be mad at yo wife, but to side with the enemy? It’s like, damn, now you got me feelin’ like I gotta say sorry to the person who damn near killed me! Hell, I’d be surprised Void lets any a’ us through to Bela. I wouldn’t even be mad, to be honest. If anything, Elenor deserves to be guilty for that shit.”

 

“ ... ”

 

Owen Williams has passed the Trials.

 

—

 

Elenor Velice has failed the Trials. 

 

Thea Adamos has passed the Trials. 

 

Ian Lenor has passed the Trials. 

 

Creation has passed the Trials.

 

Destruction has passed the Trials. 

 

Owen Williams has passed the Trials. 

 

Johnny gazed at the open sky above them, they had been walking through an unchanging garden for what seemed like hours but was likely only seconds. Or maybe it was longer seeing as they had all managed to start their Trials and complete them in some way while Johnny and Jasper remained stuck in a never ending loop. 

 

Jasper huffed, they had long ago settled their argument earlier, what with their being nothing to do. Jasper had refrained from mentioning Ian much after the first time he tried to blackmail Johnny with it and Johnny had him pinned against one of the trees by his throat as he threatened him. 

 

Johnny hadn’t apologized for it but Jasper couldn't fault him, after all he would have been the same if it was Rowan he was being threatened with. 

 

If Jasper hadn’t been constantly walking he would have said that perhaps they weren't moving at all. Everything remained the same. Extremely irritating. 

 

“Nothing has changed since we started walking. It’s like we aren't moving at all.” Jasper had said this multiple times in the past while, but this was the first time Johnny seemed to acknowledge it. He had been frighteningly silent for the majority of them being trapped in this Garden of Stanganty. 

 

“It's so..” Jasper trailed off, words failed him.

 

“Stagnant.” Johnny completed the sentence for him, Jasper glanced at the man, he seemed so tired. Jasper felt for him, they were so similar after all. Ignoring the fact that the other man was a mass murderer. But they were the same fundamentally, at the core of it all. They were both curious creatures. 

 

Curiosity. 

 

Maybe that’s what this trial was about?

 

Their curiosity, their need for things to change. Was this trail the opposite of that?

 

Johnny seemed lost in thought and Jasper hesitated to tell him his theory when the other man quickly dropped to the cobblestone ground under them.

 

“Stagnant.” He muttered, Jasper towered over him as he sat on the ground and leaned against a stone bench nearby.

 

“Is that the factor of this trial?” 

 

The flowers around them watched, they had eyes in place of stamen. The eyes never changed, not when they were looking at least. 

 

Actually, maybe the eyes never changed at all, maybe it was a sort of illusion. That certainly seemed plausible. 

 

Jasper could feel a rising curiosity, a need to find out more but it quickly faded and was replaced with nothing at all. He felt emptier without it and he too took a seat on the ground and watched the pale light bleed from Johnny’s eyes. Maybe his own were doing the same? He couldn't bring himself to care. 

 

“Stagnanty.” 

 

The woman before them was made of pale porcelain glass. One arm broke off at the base of her shoulder while the other broke at the wrist where a hand should have been. Her face was that of a doll, unmoving and emotionless. Her hair was made of light blue fur, it decorated her chest in a heart shaped design and flowed down her waist like a skirt. Sheep’s ears hung from the sides of her face, one had a tag on the side. 

 

Ten, it read.

 

“You are in my Domain. Your Trial will begin now.” 

 

Fog encased the area and Staganty was never there at all. 

 

—

 

Johnny found himself in a room. 

 

It was unchanging, black and desolate. 

 

There was a white floor and a white wall. 

 

It was padded. 

 

He sat down on the floor, uncaring. Why should he care? There was no drive anymore? None at all. It had left him. 

 

Had the drive, that spark begun to leave after her death? 

 

He could blame her for it, but that was easy. What wasn’t easy would be fighting it. 

 

Fighting it.

 

Could he do that?

 

Could he get himself to fight against Stagnancy. 

 

Why should he fight, what reason was there?

 

Ian.

 

Rowan.

 

Bela. 

 

…Jasper…

 

He looked up around the room.

 

It was unchanging.

 

There was no reason to fight.

 

No.

 

There was a reason to fight.

 

He knelt.

 

The gravity crushed him back down.

 

—

 

Bela turned away from him and Rowan, Johnny dragged them forward as she took Void’s hand and let it move her forward across the watery plain. Rowan clung to his leg and began to climb his way up Johnny’s body as Johnny struggled to fight against gravity. When Rowan reached his shoulder he linked their arms together and they worked as a team to crawl forward.

 

Blood splashed down in front of him, it hit his cheek. Warm and fresh. He looked up, awaiting the worst. And was meant with a sight that sent him to tears. 

 

Bela danced gently across the water, her body marred with spirals of frost and slashes that exposed her blood to the cold and crushing air. Her blood fell quickly, it turned the water red beneath her. Blooming like roses. 

 

Johnny screamed out for her, she didn't respond to enthralled in her waltz of death. Was this what was going to happen? What was it he had said to Lucas? Seeing Ian die was a privilege he had been denied?

 

Was this the Universe's way of fixing that? Was this his Karma? 

 

He could hear the stars laughing at him.

 

Cajoling him.

 

Mocking him. 

 

Rowan dragged them forward, his tail wound around Bela’s moving ankles. She danced and hopped around them like she was playing a game of hopscotch. Her blood stained the fur of his tail, Rowan would never be able to wash it out. 

 

By the time they had reached her waist, by the time they had managed to kneel, the sword was leveled at her throat. Her exposed throat. Her vulnerable throat. 

 

The one she had confided in Johnny she had always used to cover, due to multiple assassination attempts from slices at her neck. Johnny couldn't let her die like that. The way she feared most. 

 

Voiceless and bleeding out. 

 

She looked at them. 

 

Truly looked. 

 

As though this time, she recognized them.

 

Johnny cried her name, weak and shaky. 

 

She let her tears fall and decorate his face like raindrops. 

 

He could see it in her eyes. Her final words. The words she could never really say, not to anyone without fear of ruining it all. 

 

I love you.

 

The sword sliced through her neck.

 

The blood splashed against his face, it stained his hair and his sweater. He would never be able to wash it off. 

 

—

 

Bela.

 

He couldn't fail her now.

 

He did it once, he couldn't take this second chance for granted.

 

He fought back.

 

Curious.

 

That voice was back, Johnny rose to his feet, shaky and unsure as the gravity tried to beat him back down.

 

He moved forward, relentless in the face of the unchanging. 

 

The room was the same.

 

Forever the same.

 

No.

 

No?

 

The room was different.

 

It was?

 

The room had a door now.

 

Did it?

 

Curious Mortal, I suppose you are deserving of my Mother’s favor.

 

Use it well.

 

Johnny grabbed for the door, it opened. He was in front of a long winding bridge of vines and colorful flowers and bulbs. Jasper stood beside him, he hadn’t noticed the man earlier, had he just arrived to the same room.

 

Johnny looked at Jasper, his eyes were red rimmed. Johnny didn't dare ask what he had faced in that room, he didn't want to talk about his either, it would be unfair to make Jasper relieve his too. 

 

“Let’s go.” Johnny moved forward and didn't look back to see if Jasper was following. He had a friend to revive, and yell at once they had a moment alone. 

 

Johnny Torres has passed the Trials.

 

Jasper Nova has passed the Trials. 

 

—

Rowan slugged along behind his mother, little energy in his body. He didn’t even really remember much besides an odd laughter.

 

“Look at the stars, Rowan,” Maia sighed. “Aren’t they pretty?”

 

His mother. Right. 

 

Did he kill them?

 

Chatter began to stir up around them, small childlike giggles amongst more mature chuckles. 

 

“No, no, no,” echoed around them. 

 

“I think I’m hallucinating.”

 

“I hear it, too, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

 

Maia offered her hand to Rowan, and he took it. She was so tall, he still felt like a child whenever she was around.

 

“M-mom? What happened?”

 

“You were having some trouble,” Maia told him. “You were about to go and get yourself killed.”

 

“I was?”

 

She nodded. “You were going to release your toxins, sweetie. It would have killed everyone in the room.”

 

Rowan’s head hurt trying to remember anything. 

 

“How did I stop?”

 

“I stopped you.”

 

Rowan hummed. He felt his mother’s tail coil around his own, offering some reassurance to her son.

 

“I’m sorry, mom.”

 

“What for?”

 

For everything.

 

For leaving without a goodbye.

 

For worrying you so much.

 

For trusting people who’d betrayed you.

 

For making you see me this way.

 

The stars whispered his thoughts aloud. It startled him when Maia stopped walking.

 

“Are they saying what you think?”

 

“Mom.” Rowan couldn’t get the words out.

 

Stop it.

 

Ugh, embarrassing. Why do they do that?

 

She can hear.

 

She knows.

 

“Honey,” Maia tilted her head at her son endearingly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize to me.”

 

“I could’ve stayed with you, mom.”

 

“And you would’ve never met your new friends. You would have never reunited with Jasper.”

 

She’s right.

 

I missed him so much.

 

Would he have stayed dead?

 

Stop whispering, damn.

 

Haha!

 

Rowan froze. He wasn’t thinking of laughter.

 

The surroundings in front of them began to warp, almost like rubber twisting around. Stars took on more beaded forms, arranging into a large circle like a constellation.

 

Like space bursting forth, glowing white eyes appeared on the mass before them, which began to ripple fluidly.

 

“ The Stars glimmer before you, lovely souls! ”

 

The stars? A person?

 

The Stars began to twirl around Rowan and Maia, giggling with glee. 

 

“ Might you know our dances, dear souls? ”

 

Dances?

 

“Uh…I don’t do dances ,” Rowan stammered. “I just do my own thing.”

 

His mother giggled nervously in agreement. The Stars giggled back.

 

“ Then we have work to do! ”

 

Rowan nearly screamed when the Stars grabbed his hands, pulling him near. 

 

“ You wish to have Mother again? ”

 

Mother?

 

Rowan nodded furiously. 

 

“ Then you must learn her language. You must learn how to talk to Mother! If you cannot, the Stars will dim, and you will fall silent .”

 

Language? Silent? Gosh, what was she saying?

 

Odd, rhythmic vibrations began to tingle in Rowan’s ears. It felt like music, but there was nothing to be heard.

 

The Stars pulled Rowan to and fro, twirling him around in a dizzying manner, dipping him like a ragdoll.

 

Dancing was her language? Is that what she meant?

 

Is that why he always saw her twirling around? 

 

Oh, how he missed her.

 

“ Did you catch all that? ”

 

“Huh?!”

 

“ Lovely! Now practice! ”

 

Rowan was suddenly shoved towards Maia, and she caught him hurriedly. 

 

“ Remember what the Stars have taught you! ”

 

Rowan and Maia shuffled awkwardly as they tried to replicate the Stars, who watched with enamored intent.

 

“ Oh, that’s no good! You must feel it! Communicate! ”

 

Rowan grunted, becoming frustrated with himself.

 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” Maia bent down, nuzzling her nose against her son’s. “Just dance with me. Like we’re back at home, goofing off!”

 

Her grin widened, and the sight made Rowan’s worries melt away. His mother began to tug at his arms, and he tugged back, their giggles growing into full fledged laughter.

 

Maia spun Rowan around, and he wanted to try it too, hesitating when he realized he couldn’t.

 

His mother laughed as she bent down low, spinning slowly for her child to grasp. It made him laugh harder.

 

“I used to do that all the time when you were a baby,” Maia giggled. “Works every time.”

 

They separated, held together in their twirls only by interlinked tails. It was beginning to feel natural.

 

Rowan hadn’t realized how much he missed his mother. How much he missed everything.

 

It felt so safe with her. He felt innocent again, forgetting the trauma he’d endured.

 

He ached at his mother’s smile. It reminded him of Bela’s grin.

 

If it meant dancing with Bela, he’d do anything to have that grin back.

 

Mother and son, reunited in an impromptu dance, an unspoken conversation. Apologies, reconciliation, everything unheard, yet understood.

 

Frantic clapping startled the two out of their laughing fit. Rowan struggled to catch his breath, but his mother seemed to do so almost immediately.

 

“ What a wonderful conversation! ” The Stars clapped, cheering. “ I can’t wait to hear what you and Mother say! ”

 

Mother and Child have passed the Trials.

Chapter 26: Twenty Six

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Cirro examined the area before him, the watery depths in which he, Elias, and Owen swam in. It was dark and bleak, there was Nothing surrounding them. Eyes blinked from the darkness.

 

“Swim.” They commanded.

 

And Cirro trusted them, despite his instincts, to guide him to safety, so he swam. 

 

Diving down he found a beautiful crafted bridge of coral under the dark depths. He rose again and grabbed for Elias, the other man let him hold his hand as he explained. 

 

“There’s a bridge under the water, I think we have to cross it.” 

 

Elias looked down and saw nothing but his own dark reflection, he looked back up at Cirro with furrowed brows. And then he nodded, slow and solid. Cirro ignored the spark of warmth in his chest over it, after all they were opposites, they didn't get along well at all, right?

 

Grabbing at Owen and giving him a reassuring smile, Cirro ducked back into the water and led the group down into the dark depths of the Ocean of Nothing. 

 

—

 

Cirro stood at the end of the bridge, behind him lay an Ocean of Nothing, before him lay a bountiful forest of willow trees. The trees dripped with starfruit and bell laden vines, draping and twirling around each other and making their own version of garlands. 

 

They stepped free of the murky depths and dropped onto a grassy plain, the grass was golden and sparkling. Around them were concepts.

 

Quiet watched from the swirling starburst shadows, Peace and Solitude standing by her side like mother bears.

 

Darkness played with Light, tying strands of winding leaves around the base of a large tree. They tackled each other and fell onto Nature who lay among the dove birds of Love. 

 

Resentment and Revenge talked with each other by the side of the bridge, they eyed Cirro and Elias suspiciously, Hatred clutched at Resentment’s skirts with her small hands. A child stared at them, the ones who orphaned her. Her sister Kindness stood on the other side of the bridge, clutching to the pearl rimmed swirls of coral. 

 

Cirro moved cautiously past the concepts in front of him, The Fabric’s other children. They eyed him suspiciously, though they made no moves against the group for they knew they had gained Nothing’s approval and therefore they must have been forgiven for their transgressions. 

 

Passing through the Grove of Concepts, Cirro found himself before a large and open temple. The Temple of Serenity. 

 

The Temple was made of a mixture of glass and limestone, colored sand swirling through its transparent pillars. Walking up the ornate steps, Owen leading the back of the group, Cirro found himself in front of Void. 

 

Quickly he dropped to his knees and gazed steadily at the ground, sweat beading at his temples. Just because he had passed the Trials did not mean he would be free from punishment, he had accepted this but it was still nerve wracking to be faced with it. 

 

“You.” Void addressed them coldly and emotionlessly. It lifted its sword and pointed it directly at the two kneeling Gods before it. Then its wings spread and blocked the rest of the entrance from view. Just before the feathers covered the sight Cirro caught sight of some of the humans gathered inside the Temple. 

 

“For your transgressions against The Fabric, you will be punished.” 

 

Cirro shook under the intense gaze of The Void, it pointed its sword at him first. 

 

Then the blade found itself resting on his shoulder, not dissimilar to a knighting ceremony. The blade burned ice cold on his skin and froze the fabric of his clothes with winding patterns. He held back a small whine at the pain of the feeling and felt tears well in his eyes. 

 

The sword sliced down swiftly and he felt it cut the flesh of his neck slightly, he jerked back clutching at it and felt his powers chain themselves from his use. Then they were back, lesser for sure, but back nonetheless. His glow had diminished and when he stood he found himself far shorter than he was used to. He gazed at Elias who had a matching bleeding mark on his neck, Void sheathed its sword again as the two stared in disjointed horror at each other. 

 

Void swiftly turned and made its way into the Temple, leaving behind the shaken Gods and the singular human. 

 

Cirro found himself standing before a large glass altar, on it lay Bela’s body. She looked small, much smaller than she should be, and lifeless. Something he had never associated with the troublesome woman. He thought back to their last encounter, how shaken and lost she had seemed. 

 

He felt terribly sorry for his treatment of her, perhaps if they had been nicer they could have become friends? 

 

What a strange word, since Maia had left he had never considered anyone a friend, it had been something his vulnerable heart couldn’t handle. But maybe.. with her.. He found himself looking at Elias again. Maybe he could be friends with him too? 

 

Void stood on the other side of the altar and when Cirro blinked The Children were there as well. 

 

The Stars moved forward and placed a gentle hand on Bela’s cheek. 

 

“It is time to retire this vessel Mother.” With a sweeping hand The Stars began to dance around her. Bela’s body began its slow dissolve into stardust, the particles rising into the air and glowing, laughing, sparkling. 

 

Thea moved forward, yelling something about how this wasn't a revival, she was stopped by Nothing. Johnny followed her, clearly enraged with Ian at his side. Everything stood in their way. 

 

The Stars laughed and cajoled them, mocking, lilting voices in their ears.

 

Mother is ours first.

 

Mother needs a better body.

 

Trust in The Stars.

 

And watch Mother dance. 

 

The Stars stopped their dancing and the altar was empty, Cirro felt a terrible rage in his chest. All this.. For nothing? He didn't even get the chance he so desperately wanted to speak to her, to apologize. Elias placed a steady hand on his arm and stopped him from moving forward.

 

“Wait.” His voice cut through the chaos of the room, Johnny and Thea stopped their struggle, Rowan had somehow joined in while Cirro was distracted and slowly placed a grenade back into his mushroom. 

 

Above them stardust shifted and shimmered, it was Everything and Nothing. Stagnant and Changing. The Stars laughed and watched as the stardust above them, the essence of The Fabric sprinkled down into the room and began to form a shape. 

 

“Mother.” 

 

The Children spoke in equal measure of love and awe, all at the same time, and the shape blinked open multiple pairs of eyes. Not dissimilar to a spider. Then they blinked again and there was only one set of eyes. Slowly the shape sifted.

 

A woman. A man. A child. A teen. A grandmother. A parent. Her. 

 

Bela’s silhouette stood before them. She turned and looked at the group, smiling with no mouth. 

 

It was bright, as bright as she usually was.

 

Johnny and Rowan moved forward as though to hug her and she leaped back like a ballerina on pointe. 

Laughter echoed through the room, bright and airy. 

 

Behind her The Children surged around the altar dancing together as though they were small and playing a game of Ring Around O’ Rosie. The Children muttered words under their breath and Bela dissipated into smoky starlight swirling and curling around each member of the room and placing a gentle kiss on their cheeks. 

 

The kiss was cold and warm, harsh and gentle, it was everything and nothing in equal measure. The Children separated from their dance and the group could see peeks of warm brown skin and a flowing purple gown like it was melded from space itself. 

 

Void stepped forward from where it had been watching the ritual.

 

“Dearest.” Its voice was soft for once and Bela stepped back a shadowed hand rising to her nonexistent mouth as though hiding a smile. Thea watched it all with a lovesick gaze. 

 

“May I have this dance?”

 

Bela leaned forward, animated and placed her hand in Void’s grasp. Standing on her tiptoes she didn't even clear Void’s shoulders, standing only at the middle of its chestplate. 

 

Johnny watched with bated and fearful breath checking to make sure that Void did not have its sword within grasp, it didn't, he sighed gratefully. Rowan however was much less subtle with his concern.

 

“Don’t kill her with a dance of death again!” 

 

Void didn't even glance at them as it placed a gentle hand on Bela’s waist and lifted her above it, before placing her back on the ground and letting her lead their twirling dance around the group. 

 

“Mother will not kill her. Our Mother’s love each other very much. Their Union was the Birth of Love after all. What Union is more sacred than one that creates Love?” 

 

Everything’s reassurance did little to assuage Johnny and Rowan’s worries, they watched the dance with thinly veiled horror and dread painting their faces. When Bela spun they waited for a spill of blood, none came and she only laughed animatedly. 

 

When Void dipped her low to the ground they expected a slice, a hit, but there was only peace and serenity. Laughter and Love in equal measures laced their movements. 

 

The Children continued to guard the altar, Everything blocked the view with her body and shook her head as she pushed Rowan away from the altar.

 

“It’s a surprise, little Favorite.”

 

“Who you calling little?”

 

There was silence in response as she stared at him, almost as though she was judging him even without a proper face. 

 

While Rowan was puffing his face at Everything, he noticed the footsteps of two gods.

…

 

He immediately noticed the oddity of Cirro and Elias now being the same height as him. He measured himself against them, his hand moving curiously as the two gods looked at him, equally confused and embarrassed. 

 

Rowan was still processing everything when a familiar voice interrupted.

“Hey my little mu-“

Jasper started, but his words trailed off as his smile faded, noticing the three identical-sized Rowans before him.

 

For a moment, there was silence as Jasper tried to contain himself, his hand covering his mouth, his body shaking with laughter he could no longer suppress. 

He clutched his stomach as small wisps of his hair began to float, turning liquid-like and capturing snippets of his laughter in the air.

Unable to hold it in anymore, Jasper collapsed on the ground, rolling in laughter. The sight of Cirro and Elias, usually so imposing, now reduced to Rowan’s size, was too much for him. 

Between fits of laughter, he muttered, "They got capped…!"

Jasper’s joy was undeniable, the rare satisfaction of seeing the gods in such a state fueling his amusement. Rowan, still pouting, wasn’t sure whether to laugh along or scold his boyfriend for finding humor in this bizarre situation.

 

Bela danced by him at that moment and tugged at his hands, unwinding herself from Void and placing both his hands on her hips she dragged him into a winding and twirling dance. 

 

“Woah!” Rowan exclaimed as she lifted him and swung him into the air, spinning in dizzying circles. When she let go he went sliding against the floor of the Temple and tumbling into Jasper’s waiting arms. In his hands lay a vial of liquid, starry and silver depending on the light. Rowan pocketed it quickly, barely even noticing the change in his clothes from sleepwear to daywear. 

 

Bela targeted Johnny next, grabbing him by the arms and swirling him around, he had little reaction to this and seemed to simply be going with the flow up until she stopped their twirling to float upwards and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. His eyes widened and an unseen spark seemed to return to them, he smiled at her his eyes glazed with tears. 

 

Even without words his message was clear.

 

Thank you.

 

Thea came next all too prepared to spin her wife around as Void watched, soon enough Thea found herself dancing with the two entities who when they were done placed a chilling kiss on either side of her face. When they separated she found herself alone but holding a sword, double edged and rigged with hooks. The sword was glowing ethereal white and seemed to spread trails of light whenever it moved.

 

Ian found himself spun around next, her hands were chilling and gentle at the same time and when they danced she had him pick her up and spin her off to her next partner. Maia. As she left her fingers grazed his ears and he felt more than saw the return of his ears to their full pointed shape, now untorn. He could hear Johnny’s frantic heartbeat again and glanced in shocked awe over at the albino man before carefully walking over to him. And placing a shaking hand on his chest.

 

“I can hear you again…” He muttered and small tears built in his eyes, Johnny smiled far more readily than he used to as tears fell down his own face in small streams. He hugged Ian close to him and felt warm arms wrap around him in return. 

 

Maia watched with a gentle gaze as the two lover’s reunited, and turned when hands grabbed at her from behind. There were no words, but it was clear what the question was.

 

Dance with me, little dove?

 

Maia held the hands on her shoulder and spun around to face the silhouetted woman. 

 

But of course. 

 

The two began a small but delicate waltz and as they danced she could feel the other woman's hands rest stealthily at her shoulder blades, her eyes widened as she looked behind her and watched with a tear filed gaze as wings regrew from her scarred shoulders. 

 

Golden and translucent they were strong and sparkling, she gasped and looked back at the other woman to thank her but she had already vanished to another dance partner. Owen. 

Owen watched her, and bowed as he held out a hand. She took it gratefully and let him lead her into a spinning and dizzying dance. Not all that dissimilar to their battle before. As he dipped her she placed gentle hands on the back of his neck before jumping up and placing herself in the nook of his arm as he stood. Owen looked at her and she looked back with an unseen grin as she pointed towards Jasper. 

 

Sighing, Owen carried her over to Jasper, and when he let her go she spun around and grabbed the back of his hand placing a small and gentle kiss on the skin. 

 

He could feel more than see the shimmering sparkle that settled around him and felt her voice echo in his head as she trailed off to dance with her next partner.

 

You alone can visit me anytime. Maybe I can provide you with some help if the need ever arises. Also I may or may not have fixed your little cloning issue, enjoy!

 

Owen caught himself as he moved to thank her seeing as she was already caught up in her dance with Jasper. He would just have to thank her later, when she had the time. 

 

Jasper lifted Bela and spun her above him at her command, though he wasn't that confident of dancing infront of everyone he could try it for her. After all, it seemed there was a reason she was doing all this dancing in the first place. Maybe it was just her preferred way to talk? 

 

At this thought she laughed and he set her down, when she spun away from him in small pirouettes towards Cirro’s waiting hand he found a small paper note nestled in his palm.

 

We’re more similar than you think, the stars may have misguided your origin and you shall have my assistance if you’re ready 

 

She is still out there

 

Jasper looked at the note in thinly veiled shock, did this mean what he thought, but he had no time to ask her for she was already spinning off into Elias’s hands. 

 

Cirro found himself holding a bell, glittering and shining with stardust. Tacked onto it was a small tag. 

 

A gift from a friend :) 

 

Elias found himself the unlucky one to hand her off into Void’s waiting grasp. Though he found within his grasp a gift, a small miniature bottle of light itself. Glowing in his hands, as though he was holding the sun. 

 

The Children had cleared the way to the altar and on it lay an almost identical version of Bela. Dark, warm skin. Bundles of hair that faded off into inky space, moving as though it was water. 

 

She was dressed in a dark pink and purple dress with glittering pink gems trailing across the deep swooping neckline of the dress and winding themselves around her waist. The most shocking development however was the large pair of light wings on her back, lying underneath the body. 

 

The group watched with thinly veiled awe and astonishment as Void spun Bela closer and closer to the body. Before dipping her back onto the altar, the spirit merged with the body. And suddenly Bela was breathing again. 

 

The group began to rush forward, to greet her as she awoke, but they found The Children in their way. With one final saying. 

 

“You have passed our Trials. Gained our approval. Treat our Mother well.” And as they spoke they bowed gratefully, and vanished into trials of dark inky smoke. 

 

Behind the dissipating smoke lay Bela with Void hovering over her and placing a chaste and gentle kiss on her closed mouth. 

 

“Beloved. I will wake to see you again soon.” 

 

Void vanished as the group closed in on the altar, smoke signaling its leave and ice frosted the floor where it had stood. 

 

Like a fairytale Bela’s eyes began to flutter and she awoke to the group surrounding her on one side of the altar, Johnny moving forward and grabbing her arm to steady her as she began to sit up. Her wings spread out behind her and the halo pinned into her hair jingled with the movement. 

 

“Johnny? Rowan?” 

 

Rowan appeared before her and practically dove at the older woman, she caught him and he clung to her stomach his tail winding around her skirts while Johnny wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face into her curly hair. 

 

Chapter 27: Twenty Seven

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Everything.

 

Everything.

 

I feel it all. I feel everything.

 

I feel alive . I feel so alive .

 

I can’t stop crying. I can’t breathe. God, all of these emotions. I was barely able to pinpoint the limited range of emotions I had before, but now I feel like I’m on overdrive.

 

It’s her. Her. My best friend.

 

Her hair is so soft. She smells like home. 

 

Home?

 

I feel her hand begin to stroke through my hair. It only makes the crying worse.

 

I feel like I’m dreaming. Everything we’ve endured, all for this.

 

She looks a little different. But my soul knows it’s her.

 

“Johnny,” she chuckles. “You’re going to suffocate in my hair if you keep doing that.”

 

“Idohnchare.”

 

One moment, I’m buried in a blanket of starry hair, and the next I’m not.

 

I look up, finding that Bela’s hair is now shoulder length.

 

“Well I care, silly! I just got back!”

 

I feel giddy. Anxious. Everything.

 

Bela pats my head, sitting up to do the same to Rowan’s tail. “You’ll figure it out.”

 

Rowan looks at me in confusion, his tear-stained face cocked at me.

 

“I feel things,” I almost whisper to him in disbelief.

 

“Whoa, do that in private.”

 

“ Hey! That’s not what I mean!”

 

Rowan laughs at me. Bela gets up with a hop, yanking us both with her.

 

“We have so much time that we missed together! Shall we make up for it?”

 

“Make up for it?”

 

Bela nods excitedly. “You had to have missed me, right?”

 

I nod, but Rowan blurts out a snide, “Eh, not that much.”

 

Bela giggles, bending down to meet his face. She flicks his forehead.

 

“Says the one who fought Void, went through the Trials to get me, and coiled his tail around me crying when I came back.”

 

Rowan goes silent. I notice the tips of his ears start to flush red. It reminds me of Ian.

 

“Oh, come on, you two! We have things to do! Places to go, people to see!”

 

Bela dances her way through the crowd with us, twirling us this way and that. It makes me burst into laughter.

 

When was the last time I’ve laughed like this? Innocent, playful laughter?

 

When was the last time…

 

…I was me?

 

—

 

Ian’s been gone a lot lately. I miss him.

 

He comes back home every few days, mainly to sleep. He hasn’t told me where he goes, what he’s doing. 

 

I don’t want to pry, I really don’t, but he seems to be deteriorating. I’m concerned. 

 

I hear the keys, it makes my heart skip. I know why, but it still makes me question everything.

 

“Hi, Ian.”

 

“Hey.” He sets down a pretty heavy looking bag, then slumps in one of the lab chairs. Sighs.

 

He’s showing all the signs of fatigue. 

 

“Ian?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah?” Ian shrugs. “I’m fine.”

 

He doesn’t sound sincere. I decide that this is the one time I’ll push it.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing–”

 

“Something’s wrong. I know it.”

 

Ian slumps even further, ears drooping as he sighs. I didn’t think he’d tell me so readily, but he has never really been stubborn with me. 

 

“Johnny, um…” Shakes his head. Doesn’t look at me. Shame? “Please don’t be angry with me.”

 

“Angry? Why would I be angry with you?”

 

He’s fidgeting. I’m scared.

 

“I’m preparing for war.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“The demons…Um, Adam? You know how he’s Prince of Divinity? We’re gonna be fighting—not with him. We’re uh, we’re gonna be on the same side, but some of the angels are fighting for Zerithos, and Adam desperately needed help, so Lucas is sending factions of demons to train with him, and since I’m the sin of Wrath I have to lead the training for most of the cohorts–”

 

“Wait, you’re serious? ”

 

“Y-yes.”

 

“How long have you…”

 

“Every time I leave.”

 

“You’ve been preparing for war this whole time?! And didn’t tell me?!”

“I didn’t want to tell you!”

“Why not?!”

“Because I was selfish!” Ian’s voice breaks, and he puts his head in his hands, hunched over the table. “I’m fucking miserable, Johnny! I wanted to be able to come home to a home . I wanted to be able to come back and see your smile and hear your voice and not have to hear some horrible silence or see you looking miserable because you know what’s going on and neither of us can do anything about it!”

 

“What if you didn’t go back?”

 

“I can’t just do that. I’d be summoned back if I didn’t show up in time.”

 

“What if I don’t let you? What if you just stay here with me?”

 

“Then the whole operation fails . I am one of the few the demons have to rely on for this to work. The other Sins, I mean yeah, they have their powers, but this is my specialty. It’s my instinct, I have to do this. Lucas knows that, Adam knows that, everyone knows that.”

 

“I can’t just let you do this!”

 

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” Ian sighs. “I knew you’d fight me on this.”

 

“You’ve been doing this alone! ”

 

“You cannot fight on the front lines, Johnny.”

 

“Let me do something.”

 

“ No. ”

 

“ Ian. Let. Me. Do. Something.”

 

“I can’t do that, I have no say!”

 

“Then take me to Lucas!”

“Johnny, no! I won’t do it!”

 

“Ian!” He jumps when I slam my hands on the table in front of him. “ Take me to Lucas. ”

 

“Johnny, please. Please . No.”

 

“Ian. If I know anything about Adam, he’s not going to know how to exude the confidence to even fathom carrying this war to its entirety. I doubt you even have all the facilities you need.”

 

“We’re working on it-”

 

“No. That needs to be set in stone immediately . Do you even have a medical team?”

 

Ian’s ears droop further. “I don’t know.”

 

“So on top of poor communication across the troops and factions, you more than likely have a mediocre medical team who hasn’t even assessed you yet?”

 

“Johnny—”

 

“ Take me to Lucas. ”

 

Ian sighs in defeat, offering me his hand. I take it, and the next moment we’re in front of Lucas’s meeting room.

 

I barge in, startling the other Sins. Poor James almost looks scared of me, hugging his mana ball like a pillow.

 

“Johnny?” Lucas eyes me, landing on Ian after a moment. “Why did you bring him here?”

 

“Let me in on the war.”

 

“Johnny, you can’t fight.”

 

“Put me in Strategics. Head of the medical team, something .”

 

Lucas sighs. “Ian, what happened?”

 

“I had to tell him. He knew something was up with me.”

 

“Please think rationally, Johnny–”

 

“No, you need to think rationally. An impromptu war, and yet nothing is even fleshed out to the extent needed to have a possibility at winning? You’re fighting Zerithos , for fuck’s sake!”

 

“Johnny, these things take time!”

 

“It’d take less if you knew how to organize.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying you need me.”

 

“That’s a tall assumption, Johnny.”

 

Assumption? As if I can’t?

I storm up to Lucas, yanking him by the collar in a frenzy.

 

“You’re full of assumptions, aren’t you, Lucas? Just like how you assumed combat training will do enough? Or how you assumed your troops would get by without access to a medical team during training? Or how you assumed that their spirits wouldn’t waver if you just beat them into the ground every day with more training? Or how you assumed your factions wouldn’t need to communicate with one another? If either one of us should be assuming anything , it should be me. I’m taking that damn medical team under my teachings and rearranging your strategies whether you like it or not. This is about survival, Lucas, so get your shit together. ”

 

With a shove, I’m storming back off, leaving everyone in the meeting room in shocked silence.

 

I had that whole operation flipped right side up in twelve days.

—

 

Ian and I. Me and Ian. That’s how it was all our lives.

 

Then we met more people. But even then, at the end of the day, it was always us two. Us against everything. 

 

We shouldn’t have survived. Neither of us had any reason to survive.

 

But I suppose being together was the deciding factor. He was able to hunt food for me, and I was able to keep him healthy. We kept each other warm. We shielded each other from the brunt of the world, we taught each other things. 

 

We loved each other. From the moment we shared our first meal together, we loved one another. Sure, we were only children, but I’d consider that one of the purest forms of love.

 

He has never done me wrong. 

 

Even now, after our argument, he refuses to let me believe he’s done anything bad.

 

He lets me sneak into his quarters in the barracks. I let him sneak into my bedroom in the makeshift laboratory they’ve made in the warzone.

 

We’re not supposed to be doing this. It’s the only semblance of happiness Ian has.

 

I see other demons sneak around the same way. Zaaz and Faranei do it the most. They don’t know I know, but I won’t tell anyone. Maybe they’re happy that way, too.

 

I’m back in his quarters. It’s so late, but barely anyone is able to sleep. We’re mere nights away from the war. Half of us are expecting an ambush, the others are just terrified all around.

 

His arms are around me. They always are as of late.

 

“Ian?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m scared.”

 

He pauses. “Me too.”

 

“I’m scared you’ll die out there.”

 

“I’m scared someone will kill you in an ambush.”

 

More silence.

 

“Johnny?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Even more pausing. “Never mind.”

 

“No, what’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“I don’t want to lose you, either.”

 

“What if Zerithos takes you? They know you’re a Phoenix.”

 

“He doesn’t know where I am. I’ll be fine, Ian. You’re in more danger than I am.”

 

“I’ll be fine.”

 

“You’re the one on the front lines, you know. You’re leading the battalions, for fuck’s sake!”

 

“I know ,” he sighs. “I’ll figure it out, okay?”

 

Part of me doesn’t believe him. It wants to, I want to, but the reality of the situation prevents me from doing so. 

 

“This is one of the last nights we have together. Then you get transferred to the battlefield.”

 

Ian only nods. I know it’s heavy on him. How could it not be?

 

“Johnny?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

“No,” he insists, looking at me. “I love you, Johnny.”

 

His voice starts to ring in my mind. I can’t help but cry.

 

“Why are you telling me this now?”

 

“So you know before I go.”

 

“Are you gonna die? ” I burst into choked sobs. 

 

“No, no, Johnny,” he says softly. Ian gives me a kiss on the cheek, holding my face. “I promise, okay? I’m not gonna die. We’re gonna be just fine. I’ll take you out right after.”

 

“Take me out?”

 

“On a date. It’ll be special. You’ll love it.”

 

I begin to cry more, and he gives me more kisses, hesitating a little before leaving a deep one on my lips.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t mean to make you cry.”

 

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t a demon,” I whimper, trying to hold back more tears. “We wouldn’t be going through this.”

 

“If I could change that, I’d be anything you wanted me to be.”

 

More kisses. Less tears.

 

“Ian?”

 

“Yes, Johnny?”

 

“Can I ask something of you? It might seem, um, odd.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

One moment I’m laying next to him, the next I’m sitting in his lap.

 

“Have sex with me, Ian.”

 

“A-are you sure?” 

 

I nod. His ears perk up. He knows I’m being genuine.

 

“Please?”

 

He’s never denied me anything. He’s always told me he would give me anything I wanted, and he’s held that standard.

 

Even now, he says yes. That he’ll do whatever I want. That he’s all mine and he’ll show me just how much he cares.

 

He does exactly that, sending me into ecstasy in the overwhelming envelopment of his devotion. It feels free, it feels heavy, it feels like grave apologies and simple affections and everything we’ve been too rushed to say. 

 

It feels like love. 

 

It feels like love when he comes back the next day, in my lab, giving me a ring. Giving me a vial of his blood because I’ve always wanted to do experiments I never had time for. Giving me candies he snuck into the base because he knows I run on sugar when I’m stressed.

 

It feels like love when I don’t dare to use his blood out of fear of wasting it. That I’m sparse with the candies because I want to share Ian’s favorite flavors when he comes back.

 

It feels like love when I’m searching for him amongst the crowd of injured soldiers flooding into my lab.

 

It feels like agony when I don’t see him.

 

It feels like agony when I can’t find him standing amongst the others still on the battlefield.

 

It feels like agony when I see him laying down on the ground.

 

It feels like love when I get to hold him again after so long.

 

It feels like love when I tell him to open his eyes and quit trying to prank me. Playing dead like that.

 

It feels like love when I can no longer take off my lab coat because he’s on it. 

 

It feels like love when the cold of his body soothes the heat of my tears.

 

It feels odd when he’s taken from me.

 

It feels odd when I can’t find him. When they tell me he’s dead.

 

You promised, Ian. You’re hiding, right?

 

We have our date soon, right? I think I’ll wear my lab coat.

 

You’ll be close to my heart that way. Your blood seeped into the left chest pocket. How romantic.

 

You’re so sweet, Ian, giving me decorations like that. 

 

You promised.

 

I intend to fulfill it.

 

—

 

Chapter 28: Twenty Eight

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Bela swirled this way and that through the crowd, her skirts spinning wildly around her legs and tangling in the anklets of jewels tied to her skin under the fabric. The anklets, her anchors. She hadn’t wanted to mention it, ruin the mood or anything, that this body was only held together by her magic and those damned jewels she wore. 

 

She caught sight of green, moving through the crowd, her green. Thea. Her wonderful glowing green. She let go of Johnny and Rowan, they spun away from her. She could sense more than see Ian and Jasper grabbing their respective partners as they practically fell over both from dizziness and laughter. 

 

She supposed the emotional whiplash of the day would do that to someone, especially since she had just unlocked the block of Johnny’s emotions. She ignored it, that was a problem for another day. Her focus now? Her wife. Her wonderful, human, wife. 

 

She stood stock still as Thea marched her way up to her, the brown markings etched into her skin rippled over muscle. Bela wanted to bite them. Thea stopped a bit before her, she still towered over Bela. Bela smiled, soft and slow. Melting over her features. Thea lost her resolve at the familiar lovelorn look and lunged forward bundling her in her strong arms. 

 

“My love.” 

 

“My songbird.” 

 

The group quietly began to bundle up in their own groups and conversations, giving the loving couple a semblance of privacy. Bela saw Johnny leaving Ian outside the Temple of Serenity and gave him a wink. He blushed at her and frowned, clearly embarrassed by her encouragement. She grinned widely. 

 

“Songbird, what are you laughing at?” The question was laced with a type of longing one can only feel when in the deepest of loves. A love that defies all human logic, one that razes down societies and builds wars just for a glimpse of their smile. Thea would burn the world down for Bela, it's only fair that Bela would rebuild it for her as well. 

 

“Nothing, my heart.” Bela took a moment to gaze at her wife, she found herself floating off the ground to level their faces as she traced her sharp features with her eyes. Familiar features. Features she had painstakingly etched into her very being. Even at her whole, even as The Fabric, even after she was reunited with her other half she felt like she was missing something.

 

Thea.

 

Her heart, her soul, her humanity. 

 

She leaned forward and nuzzled their noses together.

 

Eskimo kisses her mother had called them when she a mere child, a child who longed for something she couldnt put a name too. 

 

Butterfly kisses, Thea had told her when she was a mere teen who had finally found something to fill her lovelorn heart. 

 

Love, Bela told herself as she found her other half, as she found more friends to fill the broken cracks in her soul and mind. As she found people she could Love all over again, someone else to share those simple childhood joys with. 

 

Thea laughed, low and gravely, she placed gentle and large hands on both sides of Bela’s face and drew them together for a longlasting kiss.

 

A sign of their love, a token of appreciation, an unspoken vow. 

 

Vaguely Bela could hear the rest of the crowd trail out of the temple, leaving only Bela and Thea before the large open doorway. In between the abandoned and cold altar and the warm sparkling sunlit forest. 

 

She drew Thea closer with winding strands of magic wrapping around her waits, she stelled herself comfortably. Wrapping her floating legs around Thea’s abdomen and winding her jwelwed arms across Thea’s nape. She felt more than saw a change in attire for Thea. When she puled away her magic had decorated the taller woman in a long and sparkling dress, with a short and open front and a trailing back not unlike that of a wedding gown. 

 

Her hair was placed in a tiered bun and her regal crown, indicating her as Queen of The Reformed World, was nestled in her blonde locks. Pinning back her bangs and only allowing a few strands to espace and wind their ways over her ears and forehead. Small baby hairs practically. 

 

Bela smiled and brought their mouths together once more. Warm and hot, slipping and sliding, tongues winding. They spent what felt like hours in each other;s embrace. Bela felt a nudge at the back of her mind, it felt warm and like a home she had forgotten. One she had left behind. Sh epulled back from the kiss slowly, Thea chased after her and she placed a hand between their lips. 

 

“Someone’s coming.”

 

Thea frowned at her with her eyebrows, clearly dissapointed. 

 

“We can continue this later, now put me down.” 

 

Reluctantly Thea took her hands off of Bela’s thighs, from where she had been supporting her in the air, and placed her gently back on the ground. The floor was cold beneath Bela’s bare feet and she almost shivered at the feeling. 

 

Near the entrance she could see a shadow approaching, a leisurely walk. Cirro pranced into view, followed closely by Elias who glanced around at anywhere but the two women.

 

Bela considered why he would be doing that and then remembered what she had been doing with Thea beforehand, had she accidentally projected her emotions? Her thoughts? No she would have felt that, hopefully…

 

But maybe it was because of how rumpled her hair was, even in its cloudy and starry form. At the thought she felt her hair drift down and drop, suddenly she was covered in thick curls of winding dark hair. 

 

She stood there, for a beat there was silence, and then Elias began to shake with chuckles. She flipped her hair out of her eyes and glared at him, wings flaring with annoyance behind her, feathers puffing up in size.

 

“That was not funny.” 

 

“It totally was.” he trailed off in another series of giggles, Cirro joining soon after. Bela turned and looked at Thea as her wife also began to laugh. She felt terribly betrayed.

 

“That’s it, I'm turning all of you into frogs.” The laughs from Cirro and Elias stopped soon after, as though they just remembered who they were talking to and why they were here. 

 

Cirro and Elias practically threw themselves to the ground, their posture deep and pleading. It was kind of pathetic, Bela thought but did not say. Afterall that would be mean, and she’s not that mean. Most of the time. 

 

“We didn't know you were The Fabric, we swear! We were tricked, and we're terribly sorry for our actions, we are pitiful excuses for Gods with how we've been acting thus far.” 

 

Bela considered the two men before her, she had no negative feelings towards them, or so she thought. It was hard to tell, what with her mania spell back and active. She thought briefly of taking it off, but would she still be herself? Would she be the same? Would she still have Thea’s love? The questions made her hesitate and she decided against it. She could figure it out without any magic. 

 

She stepped forward, her feet made little noise against the floor of the temple, the sane reflected grainy overlays of light on her figure and lit up her jeweled halo. For all that she didn't feel like it, Bela looked like the true image of a god. 

 

She stopped before Cirro and Elias’ kneeling forms, and she placed gentle hands on both of their mushrooms. A wave of serenity settled over the temple. Only those inside felt it as The Fabric delivered her judgment. 

 

“I forgive you.” 

 

Bela knew what it was like to blame oneself for their part in a bigger scheme, to be manipulated to let another die. She knew that guilt, that grief well. She carried it daily. She knew how deeply the forgiveness was needed. Even if it did not help her it would help them. And what else were friends for if not to help each other. 

 

Cirro looked up at her as she stopped back. Hands folded over her flowing gown, the light shining and haloing her, the jewels glinting in the light. She was every bit what the legends had decreed. And he felt himself shed tears at her words, the gentleness with which she had handled their vulnerable souls, their shattered apologies. 

 

“Fabric… I-”

 

“Bela.”

 

“What?”

 

“We're friends now. Call me Bela!” 

 

Elias stood, cautious, and held out a hand to lift Cirro. A blush rose, light and fleeting to his face at the sight of the other man looking at him from the floor. Tears lining his face and eyes full of hope and surprise. All directed at him. He looked away as soon as Cirro had stood and stepped closer to Bela. 

 

“So about that gift..” The woman laughed at him and lifted a finger to her lips making a shhh motion. She closed one eye and titled her head.

 

“It’s a secret. No telling!” Elias sighed, this was more like her, he woman he was used to. Troublesome and meddling. Secretive and tricky. 

 

Cirro moved to speak, likely to ask her a question, maybe about the Trials they had endured or what the aftermath would be. Sadly, he was interrupted by a loud and booming yell.

 

“Yo! What are y'all doing in there! Hurry it up I wanna go back to the Palace!” 

 

Rowan bounded into the Temple, clearly uncaring of the moment he had interrupted, impaitenec colored his entire stance. He stood with his hands on his hips, jasper trailing after him, and tapped his booted foot. 

 

“Can we go?” 

 

“In a minute, why don't I show you something first?”

 

“Cmon” Rowan whined, throwing his head back and huffing. Bela laughed at him and covered her smile with the back of her hand. 

 

“Patience. Why don't you greet the Concepts.”

 

“The fucking what-” 

 

The inhabitants of the group vanished in a fine glowing mist, leaving only Bela alone in the Temple of Serenity. The moon began to eclipse the sun. She could hear smoke forming behind her and she smiled and faced the slowly dimming sun. 

 

“Beloved.”

 

“Dearest.”

 

“Will you be back?”

 

“I could never leave you for long.”

 

“But you left me anyway.”

 

“It was not my choice, it was the fault of that terrible man.”

 

“I know, Beloved, but it still hurts being from you for so long.”

 

“...” 

 

“...” 

 

“ I have a proposition, my dearest.” 

 

“What kind?”

 

“Come with me. Join me in the mortal realm for a time. And then we can ascend together.” 

 

“But what of our duties?

 

“The children can handle them. Think of this as a well overdue break. After all we've been around for eternity. Even Beings like us are granted a small reprieve.”

 

“I-”

 

“Dearest. You know I would not suggest this if I wasnt confident it would work.”

 

“I-”

 

“I will accept your offer, my Beloved.” 

 

—

 

Bela walked from the temple and took the long way to The Grove of Concept, down a winding and grass carpeted road. Small cobbles made the pathway obvious and floating lanterns lit by a light blue falme lit the way. Pixies and fae peeked out from behind and between tree. Bellflowers rang, and starfruit shone brightly. 

 

The Grove of Concepts was lively as ever, even more so with the added population of the group of trial goers. Rowan was playing a game of tag with Hatred and Kindness, as far as Bela could tell hatred seemed to be ‘it’ for now. Up until she ran infront of Rowan and tackled him by the knees. 

 

Rowan went down with a large and long groan, it sounded as though the air had been knocked out of him, and Hatred sat herself on his back her large skirt poofing around her chubby legs as she declared herself the champion. Her sister stood nearby laughing behind a small hand. She offered no help to Rowan as he struggled to get up. How could a small child weigh so much? 

 

Sympathy took Pity with her and ran over to chase Hatred off of a yelling and gasping Rowan, he quickly scrambled to his feet and ran over to Jasper yelling something about mean children. Bela held back a laugh, she didn't want to alert them of her presence yet. 

 

Comfort and Nostalgia took notice of her, smiled, waved, and went back to threading flowers through Johnny’s long locks. Winding them in between long and intricate braids. His hair was put in a high ponytail of flowers and braids. It suited him well, Bela thought, and then she caught sight of Ian practically having a heart attack as he faked listening to Thea.

 

It was obvious Thea knew he was more focused on Johnny as she had switched to talking about the weather in Greek to one of the nyhpms nearby. 

 

The nymph pointed Bela out to Thea who strolled over to her after patting Ian on the shoulder and saying something to him that turned the tips of his ears red. Either way it shocked him out of his stupor and he began to trail his way over to Johnny. 

 

Thea came up to her and took her hand, placing a long and delicate kiss on the back of her hand. She felt a deep blush rise to her face. It was like she was a teenager all over again every time Thea looked at her. Damn her and her lovesick heart. 

Thea let go of her hand, her touch lingering before she took the hand of the dark skinned woman standing beside her wife.

 

“My lady.” She greeted, and placed another kiss on the woman’s hand. Her skin was dark, nearly black, and it caught the light perfectly, letting a warm glow emit from her.

 

Her face was all sharp angles, in fact everything about her was sharp. She wore a sharp looking toga, it connected at her shoulder, and edges and angles of monochromatic fabric. Her feet were adorned with sharpened stilettos with winding metal trailing up to her knees. She wore her hair in nearly geometric looking locs, the bundles piled high in a ponytail. Her eyes were completely white, or so it seemed, when looking closer it was easy to tell that the iris was infact a light gray. 

 

Adorning her sharp hands were metal rings, made of sharp and pointed shapes. The metal wound its way up her palm and stopped just at the crook of her elbow. Despite her cold looking expression her eyes semed to smile at the woman infront of her.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you..”

 

Thea trailed off, allowing for the deep and honeysweet voice to fill her ears with the name of the woman before her.

 

“Vacante.” 

 

Thea smiled and straightened up before offering her arm to the woman in front of her.

 

“Allow me?” Vacante considered her deeply, before placing a cold and slim arm into the crook of her elbow. She towered over Thea, easily almost a foot taller. It was a surprise that no one had noticed her yet. 

 

Thea led her through The Grove, Bela followed at their side lacing her arm through Thea’s and winding them all together with strands of her magic. Unseen to the human eye, but seen to her and Vacante. 

 

Johnny squinted in the sunlight of The Grove and watched as Kindness and Hatred ran forward, Bela was here. With another woman. Was it? No it couldn't be, that creature was every bit a hunter, no way it had any idea how to be human. But the longer he focused on the trio the more he noticed the similarities between the woman and Void. 

 

Did Void become human? Why? So many questions and such little opportunities to ask.

 

Rowan practically ran at Bela when he saw her, but he quickly skidded to a stop and tried his best to escape unnoticed as he saw her being swarmed by all the children of The Grove.

 

Hatred and Kindness watched him with a smile, Hope and Remorse tugged at Bela’s skirts, Forgiveness and Regret peeked out from behind her covered legs. Fear and Terror swarmed Vacante, making motions as though they wanted to be picked up. Vacante picked them up and held them both in the crook of one arm. 

Owen walked up the two woman, Johnny couldnt read his lips that well what with the sun blinding him. It was quickly covered by Ian’s hand.

 

“Is that better?” He asked, concern apiting his features. Johnny smiled at him, and laced their hands together bringing it down from where it blocked the sun and placing it over a bundle of roses.

 

“I think this is better actually.” Ian blushed heavily, Johnny smiled wider. He heard some commotion and then something that sounded like Owen asking to leave.

 

By the time he looked back the man was gone, a find blue mist wafting where he had stood. 

 

Bela walked over to them, handing to children off to Vacante. Vacante crafted little shadow dolls for them to play with while Thea watched and told the children she was holding stories of her conquests and battles. 

 

“What was all that?” Ian asked.

 

“Owen wanted to go back home to Elenor, check on the baby and everything.” 

 

“So, you just sent him home?” 

 

“Well we talked a bit first, but yeah, I sent him home.”

 

“Well then, not that I dont like it here can we go home too, Rowan looks like he’s about to lose his shit.” 

 

Bela glanced over at Rowan he was clinging to Jasper with his vines, Jasper in turn was clinging to a sturdy oak tree. A few of the Concepts, Forgiveness and Hatred, had teamed up to try and play with Rowan again.

 

“Yeah, let’s gather everyone and head home!” 

 

—

 

The group found themselves back at the Palace, after a long and arduous goodbye to all the Concepts back at The Grove. Rowan ran off into the Palace halls from where they stood in the foyer, dragging Jasper behind him.

 

“Okaythanksbye!” His words meshed together in a rush, clearly he had things he wanted to do, plans he couldnt reval to the group. Bela didn't want to think about what they’d be doing now that they were alone.

 

Maia followed after the running form of her son, the two Gods, Cirro and Elias, stood beside her as she moved to the large door.

 

“The rooms are this way yes?”

 

“Yes, just ask one of the guards for anything if you need help.” 

 

Maia nodded at Thea and moved through the door, Cirro and Elias behind her, their tails brushing against each other. 

 

Johnny plucked a few flowers from where they had fallen out of his hair, Bela took them from him and teleported them to the lab.

 

Pulling him aside, though she knew Ian could still hear them, she spoke to Johnny.

 

“You can study them later, go get your man!” Ian and Johnny both blushed and avoided looking at each other. Bela pushed Johnny forward and Ian caught him, they stared intensely into each others eyes. Bela could sense they were seconds away from making out so she coughed and jerked her head towards the hallway that led to Ian's quarters. 

 

Both men flushed and stumbled over their words before eventually giving up on excusing themselves and just running off in the direction of Ian’s chambers. Bela’s laugh followed them as they left, warm and echoing. 

 

Bela turned to face Thea, opening her mouth to address the older woman, when she felt something slam into her and she fell ungracefully onto the marbled floor. 

 

“Ow!” She yelped, the weight on her squeezed praticuarly hard against her waist. Stars above, her wings were making this uncomfortable. Just as quickly as the thought came and went, so too did her wings. Bela knew they still existed but they seemed to have been hidden somehow? Moved to another plane of existence maybe? She didn't want to dwell on it, she just wanted to get off the floor. 

 

“Ivy!” Wait- that was her sister’s voice. But why was she- OH! The empathy link, Bela could have hit herself over the head. Her sister must have felt it when she died. No wonder she got tackled. Well, Bela supposed she deserved this. 

 

Struggling she turned around, only to be smothered once more, this time by her parents as they threw themselves down onto their two daughters. 

 

Her parents talked quickly, interrupting each other over and over in their mother tongue. Bela could hardly keep up with what they were saying but eventually they dragged her back up from the floor and towards her parents' shared quarters. 

 

She and her family talked for hours, they were reluctant to let her out of their sight. She told them the whole tale, showed them her memories, her true form. They accepted her even at her most inhuman, a true family despite it all. 

 

Hours passed, Vacante had come by earlier, mentioning retiring to Thea’s room and waiting for Bela there. Bela waved her off with a smile as she laid in a family cuddle pile. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her waist and her father’s hands resting in her starry hair. Her sister being practically laid out overtop of everyone, her now white hair flowing across the sheets. Bela laid there, in the warmth of her family, and she dreamed. 

 

Chapter 29: Twenty Nine

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Rowan and Jasper hurried down the corridor, Rowan leading the way with his hand firmly clasped around Jasper's, his heart lightened by the knowledge that Bela was finally safe. The weight of recent events still clung to him, but a quiet relief settled in his chest. It had been an exhausting journey, both physically and emotionally, and now they had a rare moment alone.

As they approached their chamber, Rowan couldn't help but quicken his pace. His mind raced at the thought of some peaceful solitude without the looming threat of being kidnapped again or tiny hands yanking at his tail. He shot Jasper a playful grin before swinging the grand door open.

The chamber was breathtaking, leaving them a bit shocked.The soft blue and gold hues glowed warmly under the low light, casting a serene and welcoming ambiance. A king-sized canopy bed dominated the center of the room, its luxurious fabric cascading from above, and the familiar scent of linen and eucalyptus greeted them. Rowan inhaled deeply, the fragrance stirring memories of Jasper—of quiet nights, warmth, and safety. A soft smile tugged at the corner of Rowan’s lips as he silently took it in, relishing the small comfort it brought him.

But Rowan was always Rowan. Without missing a beat, he quickly let go of Jasper’s hand and darted into the room, his keen eyes scanning for any new trinkets or unattended items he could claim. It was a habit that brought him joy, even in moments like these. He moved with practiced swiftness, checking shelves, drawers, and any hidden compartments with mischievous precision.

Jasper made his way to the bed, the frame creaking gently as he sat at the edge. His gaze followed Rowan, watching him with quiet affection. Their personalities were so different yet…he always admired Rowan from afar, watching his boundless energy inspire him that they could do anything together. He sighed to himself lovingly but the mood changed as he thought about what he needed to discuss with him.

As Rowan was admiring the sleek walk-in bathroom, a feeling crept up his spine, causing him to pause mid-step. Rowan sensed eyes on him. Slowly, he turned, and there was Jasper, sitting patiently on the edge of the bed, his solemn expression soft yet serious. His hand patted his lap gently, a silent invitation for Rowan to come over.

For a moment, Rowan felt his stomach flip. Something about the intensity in Jasper’s gaze made his heart race—not in the way it usually did, full of affection and warmth, but with a hint of unease. Since everything had happened, from nearly losing Bela to the constant danger he faced, Rowan had felt on edge. He couldn’t shake the sensation that thing0s were always about to go wrong, that somehow, the blame might fall on him. And more than that, the recent brushes with death haunted him in quiet moments like this.

He silently wished he had his old “stash” with him to calm his nerves but it's been long gone.

Taking a deep breath, Rowan awkwardly made his way toward Jasper, feeling like each step was a mile long. His feet dragged in slow motion as his heart thudded in his chest. Was Jasper upset? Had Rowan done something wrong again? His mind raced with possibilities, though none of them made sense. Still, the uncertainty gnawed at him.

He finally stood in front of Jasper, looking down at his partner’s calm yet solemn face. Rowan’s hands fidgeted at his sides, unsure of what to expect as the silence stretched between them. Slowly, he sat down in Jasper's lap, feeling the warmth of his body, and waited, nerves prickling in his chest.

Jasper's soft smile broke the tension, his fingers instinctively finding Rowan's hip. The familiar warmth of Rowan's skin beneath his touch was something Jasper could never give up—it grounded him. As his other hand gently threaded through Rowan’s overgrown hair, the unease that had been lingering between them shifted, transforming into something more tender, more intimate. Their eyes met, and for a long, quiet moment, they simply observed each other, the silence no longer heavy but filled with unspoken love.

Yet, as Jasper studied Rowan’s features, his heart sank. The exhaustion was written all over Rowan’s face—the dark bags under his eyes, the sharpness in his once softer frame, the oak brown hair that had grown wild and unruly. Each detail was a painful reminder of what Rowan had been through. A wave of guilt washed over Jasper, and his chest tightened. He had left his lover like this, had been absent when Rowan needed him most. The flashes of that terrible moment—the one where he had nearly lost Rowan—played again in his mind, each one stealing his breath for a second too long.

Jasper fought to keep his expression steady, though a sadness flickered in his eyes. He silently thanked the gods for sparing Rowan, for bringing him back to his side. But even as the gratitude whispered through his mind, the bitterness remained. He could never truly forgive the gods for what they had put Rowan through, for the pain they had endured. His fingers tightened slightly against Rowan’s hip, as if holding him just a bit closer, afraid to ever let go again.

 

-

"Hey, Cirro," Elias called out, his voice casual as he turned toward the corridor leading to his room. He paused mid-step, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

"Hm?" Cirro replied, not bothering to look up, still focused on Bela's words.

Elias stopped for a moment, tilting his head as if he were trying to grasp a faint sensation. "Did you feel that?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and confusion. Something tugged at his senses, something strange. He swore he felt a faint ripple of gratitude—but it was layered with something else. It felt... grudging, almost resentful.

Cirro glanced up, eyebrows raised. "You're insane," he replied with a chuckle, brushing off Elias’s words as he often did. Elias pushed Cirro's face playfully, not thinking too much about what he sensed.

 

-

As Jasper and Rowan gazed at each other, the weight of everything unsaid hung in the air between them. Jasper's eyes held a deep sadness that Rowan hadn’t fully understood until now. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, “I saw everything… your interactions with Bela and Johnny, the situations you were in. I couldn’t be there to save you…”

Rowan’s breath caught in his throat as he noticed the tears beginning to form in Jasper’s eyes. Shock washed over him. Those voices… the hallucinations that had plagued him… they weren’t just figments of his broken mind. It was Jasper all along, reaching out, trying to be there in ways he physically couldn’t. A laugh trickled out of Rowan’s chest—one of disbelief, of realization. “So I wasn’t crazy,” he said, chuckling to himself, though his laugh sounded hollow. “Haha… ha…”

But the laughter quickly unraveled. The walls Rowan had built up to survive—walls of denial, of forced strength—finally collapsed. His laughter turned into sobs, raw and aching. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to break down completely. All the near-death experiences, the loss of a dear friend, the fear of losing Jasper—everything hit him at once, and it poured out of him in uncontrollable sobs.

Jasper was quick to wrap his arms around Rowan, holding him tightly as if his embrace could shield him from the world and all the hurt that had piled up. Rowan’s sobs echoed in the room, filled with all the grief, fear, and exhaustion he had been holding inside. Jasper pulled him closer, feeling Rowan’s body shake against his own. The sound of Rowan’s cries cut into him deeply, making Jasper’s own heart ache. He hugged tighter, as if physically holding him could erase all the pain they’d endured.

In that moment, one thought filled Jasper’s mind—he could never let Rowan go again. Not after this. Not after everything they’d been through. A dark thought flickered briefly—he would even sacrifice Rowan if it meant ending his suffering. But no. No, he couldn’t think like that. He shook the thought away.

Instead, Jasper silently made a vow. He wished never to be apart from Rowan again. If they were to face the end, he wished they would pass away together, so neither would have to bear the pain of losing the other. But for now, all that mattered was that they had each other, and in Jasper’s arms, 

 

Rowan would always be safe.

After what felt like an eternity of shared sorrow, their sobs slowly subsided as they melted into each other's embrace. Rowan, his face still buried in Jasper's shoulder, felt the weight of the emotional storm beginning to lift. After a few moments, he pulled back, his tear-streaked face glistening in the dim light. He let out a small giggle, catching Jasper slightly off guard.

"Ha… you may want to wash that sweater," Rowan said, his voice still thick with emotion but lightened by his playful remark.

Jasper glanced down at the tear-dampened spot on his sweater and couldn’t help but laugh, tears still shining in his eyes. This was what Rowan was worried about? Of course, it was. Jasper loved him for it. He loved him so much that even words seemed inadequate to express how deeply his feelings ran.

"I think we both need showers. We stink like cosmic trauma, huh?" Jasper smirked, trying to inject a bit of humor into the heavy air.

Rowan nodded in agreement, his hand brushing away the last few tears that still clung to his cheeks. His sleeve soaked up the moisture, and though he was still emotionally raw, he found himself beginning to feel a bit more like himself again. "Yeah, maybe a little," Rowan admitted with a small smile.

As they prepared to clean themselves up, Jasper walked over to the dresser to check for some fresh clothes. His fingers traced over the smooth wood as he pulled open a drawer, but instead of clothes, there was a note sitting on top of an empty space. Intrigued, Jasper picked it up and read the scarlet-red ink written in a familiar, playful hand:

"Here’s a little gift from me to you, knowing y'all need some alone time ;)
Sincerely, Bela~"

Jasper blinked, and then glanced down to see what was left for them. His eyes widened in immediate understanding, and before Rowan could ask what he had found, Jasper slammed the drawer shut, a deep flush creeping up his neck and settling on his cheeks. Of course, Bela had left something like that as her "gift."

Sighing, Jasper rubbed the back of his neck, still flustered. He made his way back to the bed, sitting down with a defeated groan. "Bela…" he muttered under his breath, though he couldn’t help but chuckle at her audacity.

Rowan turned back to ask Jasper, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "What’re you planning?"

Jasper, without missing a beat, asked, "What’s your size, Row?"

Rowan gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if deeply offended. "After all these years we've known each other, you don’t know my size—"

Jasper groaned teasingly, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, just tell me, stupid."

"Small." Rowan beamed, clearly pleased with himself.

Jasper closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he clasped his hands together. Wisps of his dark hair lifted slightly as a faint blue aura surrounded him, soft and luminous. Rowan, ever captivated by Jasper's magic, admired the beautiful display. Constellations seemed to shimmer in the air around them, swirling in patterns that made Rowan’s heart race with quiet wonder. He could watch Jasper’s magic forever.

With one final word from Jasper, there was a soft plop! , and suddenly, a neatly folded pair of pajamas landed right in Jasper's lap.

Rowan gasped, his eyes lighting up as he lifted the familiar shirt and shorts. "Ooooohhhh!! These are my babies! How'd you get my clothes out of my house?" He hugged the soft fabric to his chest, breathing in the familiar homey smell that instantly made him feel more at ease.

Jasper smiled warmly, his eyes softening at the sight of Rowan’s joy. "Oh, you know," he replied with a little smirk, "I just had to get them for you. I know you don’t like certain textures on pajamas." Jasper fluffed his own shirt, the one with a sorcery joke on it, and tugged at his navy plaid pajama pants.

 

“Well, I’m taking my shower first!” Rowan declared, sticking his tongue out playfully before darting into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jasper chuckled softly, falling back onto the bed, his mind already drifting to thoughts of Rowan. He’d waited for moments like this—moments where they could just be together without the chaos of the world intruding. But as the seconds turned into what felt like ages, he felt an unexpected twitch of curiosity in his tail.

“What’s taking him so long…?” he murmured, sitting up and glancing toward the bathroom. Without thinking, he began to walk over, but suddenly stopped himself, a rush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks. He couldn’t just barge in like that! It felt like an invasion of privacy. The thought made him shake his head in shame, his heart racing at the idea.

Jasper returned to the bed, but as he settled down, he found himself unable to shake the image of Rowan from his mind. He imagined the way the water would cascade over his skin, how the steam would rise and envelop him in a gentle haze. His heart raced at the thought—Rowan’s soft features, the way he always seemed to glow even under the dimmest lights.

A slight blush crept onto Jasper’s face as he realized he was caught in a daydream, envisioning the way Rowan would look so..cute and lustful in his hold—. He tried to focus on something else, but every thought seemed to circle back to his lover. 

 

Jasper snapped out of his thoughts to look down at his new “situation” as it prodded through his tight pants. He slapped a hand on his mouth, holding back his moans, he didn’t know if the walls were thin or not. And he would prefer not to get a smiling bela looking at him in the morning. He groaned as he sat back on the bed trying to hide it discreetly as he squirmed uncomfortably. He took a moment to realize how pent up he was. How long has it been? Months? As Jasper was analyzing his “sex data” , he was interrupted by the door creaking open.

Seeing his love again sent shivers down his spine as he admire this new form of his

The open bathroom door was filled with a haze of hot steam as Rowan emerged, towel in hand, wiping his dripping hair. He wore his “iconic” shirt that read “Magician’s Whore” along with a pair of black boxers that never failed to make Jasper giggle, but today, Jasper could only admire him in silence.

Rowan caught the look on Jasper's face and felt a blush creep across his cheeks. "Soooooo, are you going to shower or what?" he teased, trying to play it cool despite the warmth spreading through him.

Jasper jumped up in surprise, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. He instinctively used his pajamas as a shield to hide his “thing” and sprinted toward the bathroom, leaving Rowan a bit bewildered. Rowan shrugged it off, flopping back onto the bed with a soft huff, a smile still lingering on his lips.

A few moments passed in comfortable silence, but soon Rowan found himself wondering the same thing. Just as he was about to get up and check, the bathroom door suddenly swung open.

“Why did you use all the soap?!” Jasper yelled, his hair soaking wet and falling straight down, water dripping from his forehead. He was wrapped in a bath towel, which only added to the unexpected sight.

Rowan blinked, his mind racing with a mix of thoughts and distractions. “Y-yepyepyep, I—uh, I did do that,” he stammered, glancing up and down Jasper’s figure, his cheeks flushing. “I’m… sooo sorry?”

Jasper groaned, the frustration evident on his face as he slammed the door shut behind him, retreating back to the shower. Rowan was a bit shell shocked at the image of Jasper—hair slicked back, a towel wrapped around him—was burned into his mind, and he found it hard to focus on anything else.

Rowan also noticed his “situation” and crouched in a fetal position for the rest of the duration waiting for jasper

Eventually, Jasper emerged from the bathroom, still huffing about how Rowan managed to use several bottles of soap in one shower session. He waved a hairdryer in the air, its warm air making a soft whirring sound. His hair would never get dry at this rate, but he didn’t seem to care. Rowan looked up from his position on the bed, a smile spreading across his face.

Jasper’s oversized shirt, adorned with yet another ridiculous pun, hung loosely on his frame. Rowan always loved the way those shirts looked on him, even if the puns often made no sense. And the pants—those always seemed to flatter him just right in all the right places. Rowan chuckled to himself at the thought, finding it impossible to keep a straight face.

“What are you laughing about over there?” Jasper asked, inching closer to Rowan, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Ohhhh, nothing~ Just admiring your nerdy clothing,” Rowan replied with a teasing smile.

In an instant, Jasper lunged forward and tackled Rowan, playfully pinning him to the bed. The room erupted with their flirty laughter, the air thick with a sense of comfort and joy. Jasper caught Rowan in a playful headlock, grinning widely.

“H-hey! Let me go!” Rowan protested, laughter spilling from his lips as his tail waved frantically in excitement.

Jasper paused for a moment, an exaggerated look of contemplation crossing his face. “Nah~ I think I like you better like this,” he teased, wrestling Rowan further into the soft bedding, wanting to assert his playful dominance.

but the constant friction and Rowan's soft skin was not a good combination for him.

Jasper accidentally let out a moan and all went silent

Rowan stopped for a second and felt something pressing against his entrance, pulsing at each time he squirmed.

Jasper was hoping he didn’t notice but

Rowan suddenly smiled deviously as his tail wrapped around jasper’s hand tightly

“Hmmmm~ if you wanted some of this you should’ve said so” rowan looked back at jaspers flushed expression.

“I’ve been wanting this ever since I met you~” Rowan released his tail and arched his back in front of Jasper, his tail curling and waving, inviting him in.

Jasper couldn’t get enough of the sight as he had enough of waiting. Jasper immediately pulled Rowan's boxer’s down, causing him to moan a little as Jasper did the same. He quickly grabbed the gift Bela gave him and poured it on his cock.

Rowan had a lustful look in his eyes as his pink buds started spreading at the sight of Jasper's huffing for him to finally thrust inside.

Jasper grabbed Rowan closer to him, positioned himself at his entrance.*+8

He softly left small kisses, leaving rowan moaning quietly but turned louder at Jasper biting his tail, leaving a hickey on it.

Jasper happily bent down to whisper in Rowan's ears, the heat causing his it to twitch.

“Once i’m done, you’re not walking correctly tomorrow okay~?”

Rowan knew he was in danger as a long night was in front of him.

-

-

Cirro’s tail twitched violently as he headed down to his chamber, stopping him.

 

“Hmm~ someone is having fun.”

 

-

As Cirro, Elias, and Maia strolled through the long, candlelit corridor, their footsteps echoed softly against the stone floors. The air was warm and carried the faint scent of a trio coming back together. Laughter rippled between them as they shared stories of their past, lightening the mood.

Cirro, ever the playful one, couldn’t resist teasing Elias as they recalled the countless messes he’d caused over the years.

"Remember when Elias nearly collapsed that entire realm just because he was 'curious' what would happen if he messed with its core?" Cirro chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "The looks on everyone's faces... Priceless."

Maia laughed heartily, her voice rich and genuine. The warmth of her amusement filled the hallway, adding to the lightness of the moment. She wiped a tear from her eye, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

Elias, however, grimaced slightly. He always hated when Cirro brought up his past blunders, especially the ones where his curiosity got the better of him. Yet, as he glanced at Cirro, his annoyance faltered. That bright, blinding smile, the way Cirro’s eyes sparkled with mischief—it softened the blow.

For a brief moment, Elias found himself lost in that smile, letting the warmth of it wrap around him. He felt an odd stirring in his chest, something uncomfortably pleasant. But just as quickly, he caught himself, shaking his head ever so slightly.

Just a simple stupid thought , he scolded himself, forcing the feeling away. He couldn’t afford to entertain those kinds of thoughts, especially not about Cirro. It was... foolish. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off the strange mix of emotions as Maia departed toward her room.

Now alone, Cirro and Elias continued walking side by side through the dimly lit corridor. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—just quiet, punctuated only by the soft thud of their footsteps against the stone floor. Yet, despite the calm, Cirro couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. His mind buzzed with a subtle unease, like a distant storm on the horizon.

He stole a glance at Elias, who seemed miles away. His sharp gaze, usually so focused, was now clouded, staring into the distance as if seeing something beyond their surroundings. His expression was thoughtful—distracted, even. It was unusual to see Elias so deep in contemplation. The god of destruction was rarely unsettled like this, and the sight made Cirro’s heart twinge with concern.

Over the past few days, something had shifted between them. The trial had changed everything, and since its conclusion, their interactions had taken on an entirely new texture, one that Cirro still couldn’t quite grasp. It wasn’t just the memories of what had happened—it was in the small things. Little moments that clung to him like stardust, shimmering in his mind long after they’d passed.

Their tails brushing against each other as they walked side by side. Elias’s sudden, surprising kindness—soft words, gestures that were gentle where once they had been harsh. Cirro noticed it all. And it lingered.

The way Elias had started making an effort, softening his rough edges around Cirro, caught him off guard. It wasn’t like Elias to go out of his way to be tender, and yet, he had. It made Cirro’s heart race whenever he thought about it, a blush creeping across his cheeks, warmth spreading through his chest in a way he wasn’t used to.

What is this? Cirro pondered, his thoughts swirling in confusion as they walked in silence. It wasn’t just kindness, nor was it simply friendship—no, this was something else entirely. Something deeper. Something that defied the usual categories. He couldn’t name it, but it was there, a growing presence between them, unspoken yet unmistakable.

His eyes drifted to the floor as he walked, the sound of his footsteps steady, though his mind was far from still. Lost in thought, Cirro’s brows knitted together in concentration. His stomach twisted, trying to make sense of the feeling that kept resurfacing every time he was near Elias.

Just then, he felt it—a small, almost imperceptible touch. Elias’s fingers brushed against his arm, barely a graze, but enough to startle him out of his daze. His body twitched instinctively, and his breath hitched as a shiver ran down his spine.

"Hey, we’re here," Elias’s voice broke through the fog of Cirro’s thoughts, calm but firm, grounding him back in the present.. He blinked, realizing that they had reached their chambers.

"Are you okay?" Elias asked, his sharp eyes watching Cirro carefully. "You’ve been staring at the floor for a while now." His tail swayed slightly, a subtle flicker of concern. It was rare to see Elias so openly concerned, and the sight of it made Cirro’s heart squeeze.

Cirro let out a nervous laugh, waving off the concern with a quick motion of his hand. 

"Ah! I’m just tired, I promise," he said, his voice light, though it was tinged with a slight tremor that betrayed his unease. "Some good rest should calm our nerves from this whole situation." He forced a smile, hoping that his explanation sounded convincing enough to put Elias at ease.

 

Elias, however, didn’t seem entirely convinced. His sharp gaze lingered on Cirro for a moment longer than usual, his brow furrowing slightly as though he were contemplating whether to push further. He noticed Cirro’s nervous reaction—the way his laughter didn’t quite reach his eyes, the faint tremor in his voice. But Elias chose not to pry.

He knew from experience that pressing too hard might only lead to Cirro spiraling into his usual melancholy, the kind that always seemed to surface when he thought too long about the inevitable fates of creatures and the world.

 

Their rooms were conveniently next to each other, something Cirro had always found amusing. Even when the universe seemed to be pulling them in different directions, they still ended up side by side. They both exchanged goodnights before settling in for the night.

 

But Cirro, pacing back and forth in his own room, couldn’t shake the feelings gnawing at him. It was his nature to solve things, to unravel mysteries, and right now, his own emotions were the unsolved puzzle. His steps became harder and more determined, leaving a visible trail from how forcefully he stomped. Realizing it, Cirro jumped and apologized softly to no one, sighing sadly at his own frustration.

Then it hit him—he needed to relax. A bath would help clear his mind and ease his restless spirit.

 He sprinted happily to the bathroom, admiring the new beautiful scenery. 

The marble was cool under his fingertips as he turned on the warm water, letting it cascade into the tub. The soothing sound of water filling the space was almost melodic. He poured in a rich vanilla-scented soap, the sweet aroma filling the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. With a flick of his wrist, he added shimmering gold flakes, watching in fascination as they twirled and danced in the water, creating a lavish, almost enchanting scene.

Slowly, he began to undress, his fingers deftly undoing his long braid. As his hair fell loose and cascaded down his back, reaching the floor like a waterfall, he felt a profound sense of release wash over him. The weight of the day seemed to lift, if only momentarily.

Sinking into the tub, the warmth enveloped him, soothing not just his physical fatigue but also the emotional wounds he had carried for far too long. He let out a long sigh, the tension in his muscles melting away as he submerged deeper into the water, letting it cradle him. For a brief moment, he felt a sense of tranquility that had been elusive, a respite from the chaos swirling in his mind.

Yet, despite the calm, his thoughts wandered to places he hadn’t expected. What if Elias was here with me?

The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, and Cirro jolted upright, splashing water everywhere. The sudden fantasy sent a shock through his body. “No, no! What am I thinking?” he exclaimed, his face flushing a deep golden hue, embarrassment blooming across his skin like wildfire. Elias... seeing me like this?

Furiously shaking his head, he tried to dispel the thought, but the harder he fought against it, the more vivid the image became. He could almost feel it—the rough, gentle touch of Elias’s fingers trailing along his arms, tracing every inch of his skin.

The heat of Elias’s slender body pressing closer, their legs brushing beneath the surface of the water, ignited a fire within Cirro. He imagined Elias’s handsome face moving nearer, their breaths mingling in the warm air, and the thought of those intense, piercing eyes locking onto his own made Cirro’s heart race uncontrollably.

As his expression softened, his eyelids drooped, surrendering to the devilish thoughts that overtook him. This is ridiculous, he lectured himself, yet he couldn’t stop the visions from playing in his mind. The idea of Elias right there with him, their shared laughter echoing softly in the steamy air, felt…intoxicating.

-

Meanwhile…

Elias emerged from his shower, the dampness still clinging to his skin as he let his hair dry in loose waves, droplets glistening like tiny stars in the fading light. He had never seriously considered his relationship with Cirro as anything beyond friendship—until now.

“A god of creation and a god of destruction... dating? How funny,” he mused aloud, a chuckle escaping his lips at the absurdity of the thought. But as the laughter faded, he found himself lingering on the idea. What if they did get together? The notion felt odd, almost surreal, yet strangely intriguing.

…

The more he contemplated it, the quieter his amusement became, replaced by something softer, something uncertain that tugged at his heart. Elias couldn’t shake the thought of Cirro—those golden eyes that sparkled with mischief, the soft smile that lit up the darkest of days whenever he was near. The warmth of his body, the gentle way he carried himself—it all sent a shiver down Elias’s spine.

The image of their bodies close together, Cirro’s softness against him, filled his mind, making his cheeks flush a deep shade of blue. Why is this happening now? He grumbled in frustration, burying his face in his hands, trying to block out the wave of unexpected feelings.

But just as he thought he could settle back into his thoughts, a sudden knock on the door jolted him from his spiral. He hesitated for a moment, his heart racing as he struggled to compose himself. His mind was still a whirlwind of flustered thoughts as he approached the door.

When he finally opened it, he was greeted by the sight of Cirro, who stood there waving softly. The moment felt suspended in time. Elias was struck silent, his breath hitching in his throat. How could someone look even prettier?

Cirro wore a light yellow silk robe with fur lining the edges, the color complementing his golden complexion perfectly. The way the fabric clung to him, highlighting his graceful figure, made Elias’s heart race. The sight was almost dizzying, and he had to physically force himself to look away, clearing his throat in a futile attempt to act natural.

“Hey,” Cirro greeted softly, slightly blushing.

Elias quickly shook himself out of it, nodding. “H-Hey. Uh, what’s up?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though his eyes kept flicking back to Cirro’s robe.

-

-

Cirro felt time slow to a crawl the moment he saw Elias standing there. His short, ruffled hair gave him an effortlessly cute look, but it was Elias's robe—loosely hanging open to reveal his midnight blue shorts and toned abdomen—that truly made Cirro's thoughts spiral. His sinful imagination raced, and he had to mentally fight off those thoughts, shaking his head to clear his mind.

He suddenly realized he'd been staring too long when Elias tilted his head, an eyebrow raised, impatiently tapping his foot. Cirro panicked internally, trying to come up with something— anything —to keep this interaction going.

“O-ohh! Ummmm...” he stammered, glancing around desperately before landing on an idea. “I need help with my hair! Yes! The knots in there are really bad and only your uh…” Cirro reached out, gently placing his hands on Elias's, practically begging as his golden eyes fluttered with a hint of desperation. “...special hands can solve my distress.”

Elias’s face turned a deep shade of blue as he snatched his hands back, laughing nervously. “Yeah, yeah, just get in here before I change my mind.”

Cirro, grinning widely, walked in as if he’d won a small victory, while Elias clutched his robe tighter, his tail wagging furiously behind him.

-

Elias’s mind raced uncontrollably. 'I need him, I need him, I need him,' his thoughts screamed, moving faster than he could comprehend. He felt his mushroom-shaped heart wisps start to form, floating in little heart shapes before he quickly swatted them away in panic.

'This can’t be happening!' he thought desperately. 'There’s no way I’m in love with him… right?' Every part of him tried to reject the feeling, frantically searching for some excuse. 'Maybe I’m just lonely! Yeah, that’s it! This is just some weird need for companionship, and once he leaves, things will go back to normal. Right?'

As Cirro sat on the floor, humming a soft hymn, Cirro couldn’t help but glance around the room. Everything in the space seemed to reflect Elias's own personality—The walls were painted a deep, muted gray, giving the space a cool, calming atmosphere. Heavy drapes of the same shade hung from tall windows, almost blending into the background, only noticeable by the faint shimmer of silver lining at the edges.. Cirro smiled to himself, quietly amused by how much the decor screamed Elias. It felt so… him.

Elias sat on the bed, which squeaked softly under his weight, while Cirro waited patiently on the floor, handing him a summoned brush. Elias sighed and got to work, carefully running his fingers through Cirro's long hair to separate the strands. His touch was gentle but firm as he used the brush to softly glide through the locks.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how impossibly soft Cirro’s hair felt. It was like the finest wool or strands of the softest yarn slipping effortlessly through his hands. Elias could spend hours brushing Cirro’s hair, mesmerized by its texture. A sudden, irrational thought popped into his head—'If anyone ever tried to cut his hair, I’d…'

He paused mid-thought, shaking his head. 'Okay, that was definitely a no,' he chastised himself, feeling a surge of possessiveness that startled him. Still, as he continued brushing, he couldn’t help but feel drawn even deeper into this strange, uncharted territory of emotions.

As Elias continued brushing Cirro's hair, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. Cirro’s hair was a delicate wheat yellow, soft and radiant like strands of sunlight woven together. It shimmered even in the muted light of the room, catching the silver glow from the chandelier and reflecting it in golden hues. Every stroke of the brush made it seem more ethereal, a bright contrast to Elias’s own dark midnight hair.

Elias, feeling the weight of the silence between them, decided to break it with idle conversation. He needed to feel some sort of normalcy—anything to anchor him in this chaos of “love”. 

He gently tugged at a strand of Cirro’s hair as he worked through the tangles, his voice soft but deliberate.

"I wonder if it's hard to maintain hair like this... Couldn't you just make it shorter with your powers?" Elias asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Cirro’s cascading silver-blonde locks, which seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

Cirro blinked, his long, pale lashes brushing his cheek as he squinted up at Elias. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"I could... but why would I?" he replied, his lips curling into a faint, mischievous smile. "I like the feeling of letting my hair loose, even if it gets in my mouth sometimes. My room is always covered in it, too," Cirro's voice trailed off, the annoyance creeping in just for a moment before he shrugged it away.

His gaze softened as he looked off to the side, lost in the thought of his room, maybe even imagining the strands of hair scattered around like stardust. Elias couldn’t help but notice how natural Cirro seemed in his own skin, like he was one with the chaos of the universe.

Cirro's next words were quieter, almost a whisper, but they were filled with a vulnerability Elias wasn’t used to hearing.

"I've always wanted to have mine like yours... the color too~" He shifted slightly, adjusting his robe as though trying to hide some invisible discomfort.

Elias paused, the brush caught mid-motion in Cirro's hair. A frown tugged at his lips. He didn’t understand why anyone, least of all Cirro, would want the void of black that cloaked him. It was the opposite of warmth, of light. How could Cirro, so full of brightness and life, want that?

"Why?" Elias’s voice was low, the confusion and disbelief palpable. "It's not like your blinding warmth of a color—mine is messy and... I don't see why you'd—"

Before he could finish, Cirro stood, moving in close with sudden grace. The warmth of his body was near enough for Elias to feel, causing him to freeze. Cirro’s finger pressed gently against his lips, silencing him. The soft touch was electric, sending a shiver down Elias's spine, and his cheeks flushed with heat.

"Shhh~" Cirro’s voice was playful but carried a deep tenderness. His smile widened, his eyes sparkling as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against Elias’s skin. "You need to stop being so hard on yourself, Eli."

Elias's breath hitched. Cirro called him 'Eli,' and for the first time, it didn’t bother him. His heart beat faster, his mind racing, trying to comprehend this strange pull he felt toward the god of creation.

Cirro's tone shifted, becoming almost reverent as he continued, "Your color reminds me of the beginning of the universe—dark and empty, but full of opportunities to put stars in it. It’s perfect for someone like you."

Elias felt the words settle deep within him, stirring something long buried. No one had ever spoken to him like that. He was the god of destruction, the end of all things, yet here Cirro was, finding beauty in the very thing that Elias had always resented. He didn’t know how to react, feeling utterly exposed under Cirro’s gaze.

His body betrayed him—he could feel the heat rising from his core, his face burning with a rare blush. His tail curled in tight embarrassment, almost like it was trying to shield him from the overwhelming wave of emotions Cirro had unleashed with just a few words.

-

Oh, Cirro thought to himself, his heart racing as he observed Elias, who seemed unusually flustered. It was a new sight for him, and he found it oddly captivating. The way Elias’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of blue and how he struggled to maintain eye contact made Cirro’s pulse quicken. There was something about this vulnerability that stirred a yearning within him, a desire that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

As he brushed Cirro's hair, Elias was clearly trying to regain his composure, focusing intently on the task as if it could somehow shield him from the emotional currents swirling around them. But Cirro couldn’t ignore the subtle shift in the air, a magnetic pull that seemed to tether them together in this charged moment. The urge to lean in closer, to bridge the gap between them, tugged at his conscience like a relentless wave.

Yet, in the back of his mind, Cirro recalled the teachings of his leaders, their warnings echoing in his thoughts: “Always remember not to give in to those feelings, useless as they are.” The sentiment weighed heavily on him, a reminder of his duty and the constraints that bound him. He bit his lip, frustration mingling with longing.

Sighing softly, Cirro turned somber, shifting his focus to his own hair. He gathered the loose strands and began to braid them with meticulous care, each twist a reminder of the restraint he felt he had to maintain. He wanted this night to end, to escape the delicate tension that wrapped around them like a shimmering veil.

But beneath that somber exterior, a restless longing simmered. He wanted something more with Elias—his touch, his laughter, the soothing sound of his silky voice as they shared secrets beneath the stars. The thought of having Elias close, feeling his warmth against him, was intoxicating. For once in his life, he yearned to be selfish, to grasp the happiness that flickered just out of reach.

Elias noticed the subtle shift in Cirro’s demeanor, the way his once-bright expression dulled as he focused on the last few ties of his braid. The change struck Elias like a cold breeze, sending a shiver through him. Something was off , and he could sense the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air between them.

Cirro’s hair was finally back to its pristine condition, the golden strands gleaming softly in the low light. “Thank you for helping me… I couldn’t have done it without you, Elias,” Cirro said, his voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, though it was quickly overshadowed by the sadness creeping into his features.

As Cirro slowly headed towards the door, his soft smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. His tail dragged along the floor, a visual echo of his apparent heaviness. Elias felt a pang in his chest, an urgency stirring within him. What had caused this shift? He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Cirro to whatever was clouding his heart.

His instincts were correct; the fear of rejection was a daunting wall he had built around his own feelings. Yet, he realized that those feelings had been there since the very first moment they had met. Elias had fought against them, thinking them futile, but now he understood: 

he loved Cirro—more fiercely than any boundary or restriction placed upon them.

In a surge of courage, Elias shot up from the bed and reached out, grabbing Cirro’s arm gently. 

 

“Wait,” he said, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Cirro turned back, confusion etched across his face, and for a fleeting moment, Elias felt the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.

He wanted to confess, wanted to spill his heart out, but the words tangled in his throat, refusing to come. The silence between them thickened, each second stretching painfully long. In that agonizing moment, a tidal wave of emotions crashed over him, and he realized he couldn’t let Cirro slip away without at least trying.

Instead of words, Elias found himself acting on instinct. He pulled Cirro into an embrace, feeling the coolness of his skin mixing with the warmth radiating from Cirro’s body. The contact ignited a storm of emotions—desire, regret, fear—all swirling together in an overwhelming dance. Elias tightened his grip, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. 

“Please… have a good night,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before Cirro could respond, Elias gently pushed him towards the door, managing a smile that felt painfully forced. Cirro’s eyes widened in surprise, confusion mingling with concern, but Elias couldn’t bear to see that look any longer. He needed to protect them both, even if it meant hiding his own feelings for now.

As the door clicked shut, Elias felt his heart shatter. He waited, breath held, until he could no longer hear Cirro’s footsteps fading down the corridor. Then, collapsing onto the floor, he cursed himself for being too weak to confess. Inky black tears flowed from his eyes, floating up in the stillness of the room like echoes of his anguish. His body shook with grief, the weight of regret pressing down on him like a heavy stone.

The emotions he had fought so hard to suppress now erupted, filling the silence with his silent cries for what could have been. He was lost in the turmoil of his own heart, caught in a cycle of longing and despair, and as he wept, he could only hope that somehow, someday, he would find the courage to say the words that lingered in the shadows of his soul.

 

“I-i’m sorry…my cirro”

“Please…wait for me…”

Chapter 30: Thirty

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Johnny was obsessed with Ian’s ears.

 

He stroked them with his thumbs, speaking quietly while he sat on top of his laying lover. Speaking the way he used to, when all he wanted to be heard by was Ian. The way he spoke was like a nostalgic lullaby to Ian, not having to hear the strain of his voice, now gentle sounds flooding his ears.

 

It was certainly something to readjust to, having his hearing completely restored, but he found it was happening fast. Like his body was waiting for this.

 

“I missed these,” Johnny sighed. His hands trailed down from Ian’s ears to his clavicle. He watched his ears flutter, smiling warmly. “They still react the same way to me.”

 

“You’re the only one who’s ever made that happen,” Ian chuckled nervously. His gaze dropped, his smile lingering like a fading memory. Something Johnny had grown used to seeing when they were together. When he tried to make him happy.

 

It troubled Johnny. It troubled him intensely. What had Bela done to him?

 

“Ian?”

 

His ears perked up. “Yes?”

 

“Did I do something?”

 

Johnny’s eyes searched through Ian’s. Nobody had ever quite been able to land on anything within them. Nobody except Johnny.

 

But that had gone after the war. That level of unspoken communication…

 

Ian had lost his native language. He had his voice, but his soul did not. His soul was quiet. Dormant. 

 

And here was Johnny before him, speaking a tongue he hardly recognized in himself.

 

“No,” Ian assured. “I just, I was lost in thought, is all.”

 

“It always seems to be that way.” Johnny got off of Ian, laying next to him. “I worry it’s something about me. You don’t really get that way with anyone else.”

 

Of course he’d notice. If anyone were to notice anything, it’d always be Johnny. Both men knew that much.

 

“May I,” Johnny murmured, “know those thoughts?”

 

Ian sighed. He could never bring himself to say no to him. 

 

He was the only person Ian refused to deny. It was nearly instinct.

 

“I’m…” Ian hesitated a moment, heaving a heavy sigh. “I’m scared, Johnny.”

 

There. Out in the open, those cursed words. Those same syllables he uttered nights before the war, nights before he’d lost his language, his love. It truly did feel like a bad omen, speaking them.

 

Johnny knew it, too. It was in his heartbeat, in the way his eyes flickered with worry, the way he hesitated a moment too long to ignore.

 

“Why are you scared, Ian?”

 

“I’m scared of losing you again, Johnny.”

 

Even admitting it out loud was making it worse. It made him feel like he was speaking it into existence.

 

Johnny wasn’t sure how to reassure him. Ian promised he wouldn’t die, and did exactly that. What if he did the same? Would he die, too?

 

The world had a way of doing that, it seemed. Throwing their words right back at them.

 

Johnny held Ian tightly, nuzzling into him.

 

“Why do you think you’ll lose me?”

 

Ian didn’t respond. He was afraid of everything he’d experienced up until now.

 

“Ian, if this is about the war…”

 

“You don’t understand–”

 

“I do,” Johnny said, his voice strangely soft compared to what Ian expected. “I understand entirely.”

 

Ian fell silent once again. He hadn’t felt this before.

 

Maybe he didn’t allow himself to.

 

It was a terrifying thing, being so fragile in front of anyone.

 

“I won’t tell you I promise to live,” Johnny sighed. “I think we both know how that went.”

 

“But what if–”

 

“No what ifs, Ian. We’ve had too much of that.”

 

Why was this happening now? Ian felt as though he were about to crumble.

 

“That war destroyed us,” Johnny continued. “But I’m here now. You’re here now. We’re not in a war anymore, okay?”

 

“They could easily do something to you,” Ian’s voice broke. “Y-you’re a Phoenix, I can’t…”

 

“Let me? It isn’t your duty to protect me, Ian.”

 

“I’ve made it my duty!” Ian sat up, breath turning ragged. “If I leave you on your own like I did then—”

 

“ Ian .” Johnny sat up alongside him, stroking his ears. “Breathe.”

 

Tears began to fall. Ian was ashamed of himself for allowing Johnny to see him this way.

 

“Will you tell me about it?”

 

“We were both huge targets,” Ian choked out. “Zerithos knew you and I had huge parts to play in that war…He targeted you while I was getting swarmed.”

 

Johnny nodded, continuing his affections while Ian spoke. It seemed to ease him a little, having Johnny there.

 

“They practically raided the medical base as soon as they saw it. Barely anyone made it out, they couldn’t find you…” 

 

Ian shook his head, clearly getting lost in the nightmare of his memory. Johnny gave him a soft kiss on the cheek to bring him back.

 

“We almost won,” Ian cried softly. “But an angel…That angel brought you to him. We all saw it happen, we all saw him mutilate you. Fuck, even the angels fighting for Zerithos were horrified. I couldn’t do it anymore. They took advantage of that.”

 

“He used the blood…”

 

“Yes, it was instant , Johnny. Everything we worked so hard to do was gone instantly. I got shot with that blast of angelic energy not too long after.” Ian’s ears drooped. “I was happy, you know. I thought the blast would kill me. I thought we’d be together. But I made it and God, I hated myself for that. They didn’t even let me live in peace after.”

 

“The angels?”

 

Ian nodded. “Those fuckers hunted me down. I guess I was easy to track, but a good few of ‘em pinned me down. They called me an abomination. They said they’d purify me… My ears were ruined. I couldn’t hear, I lost my arm, I lost half my vision, my tail was ruined…”

 

Johnny watched the man before him collapse into himself. His body shook, his gaze far off. It was then that Johnny realized his left eye didn’t look so cloudy any more, that his scars didn’t seem so jagged. Did Bela give back more than just his ears?

“You might’ve gone through more than I did,” Johnny chuckled halfheartedly. “God, I hate that man…I’m so sorry.”

 

Ian mustered a small smile. “He was bad for you, too, huh?”

 

“A horrible person. He was, um, rather fond of me. I never knew why, but hearing this from you…it makes sense now.”

 

“He’s a fucking pervert,” Ian growled. “If I see him again…”

 

“He’s still alive? ”

 

Ian nodded. “I don’t know what he’s doing, nobody’s seen him since the war. But the angels…Zachary used to tell us about him. I guess Zerithos went into hiding or something.”

 

“If I saw him, I’d kill him,” Johnny said flatly. Ian’s ears flicked, his eyes widening.

 

“You mean that?”

 

“Yes,” Johnny turned to Ian. “I know how it was done in my world. I know how it should work in yours. If he shows his face, I’ll decapitate him.”

 

Ian broke into laughter. “With what?”

 

“My bare hands, if I have to.”

 

“With how you are, I’d believe it.” Ian leaned back, laying limply on the bed. “But I worry he’ll recognize you or something.”

 

“What are the chances of him coming across me?”

 

Ian shrugged, holding his arm out to Johnny. Johnny laid back with Ian, cuddling into his embrace.

 

“We’ve barely seen any angels since Adam’s death. Don’t think Zerithos will pop up any time soon.”

 

“ Adam died?! ”

 

“Oh, right,” Ian laughed. “Yeah, him and Lucas. It was really fucked.”

 

“Who else?!”

 

“Um…Josh, Lucia.”

 

“Gosh…”

 

“Zaaz, too. That was odd.”

 

“Zaaz? Why odd?”

 

“Because of Faranei. I think he loved him.”

 

“Mine hated one another.”

 

“Oh, so did mine. At least, we all thought so.” Ian sighed. “But Faranei took his death the hardest. You know he cut his own tail off? It’s in Zaaz’s casket, wrapped around him .”

 

Johnny gasped. Demon tails were so precious, so intimate. The idea that Faranei would go so far as to prevent any future intimacy like that by giving it all to Zaaz…

 

“Are yours still alive?”

 

“Yes. They’re as snarky as ever.”

 

Ian shook his head. “I think they’re into each other.”

 

“Maybe. They snuck around at night during the war. Started happening after Zaaz was forced to get his hair cut off.”

 

“That was a mess. He was so heartbroken.”

 

“It’s past his shoulders now. Maybe around his sternum? He’s still all insecure about it, last time I saw him.”

 

“Was that recently?”

 

Johnny thought about how he was captured. Trying to protect Rowan. And Zaaz, insisting he was not able to do a thing.

 

“Very. Not a great memory.”

 

Ian looked at him curiously. “What happened? Zaaz wasn’t ever really the violent type.”

 

“It was when Elenor took Rowan and I. Wiped our memories. They’d taken us to Hell, started a lockdown so none of the portals worked… I had begged Zaaz to help me, to get Rowan out, something , but he refused. He said he was under strict orders from Lucas.”

 

“He was most likely telling the truth,” Ian sighed. “Us Sins, whenever we were under strict orders, it was basically code for either you do it or you regret it . Lucas was a nice person, but he was a ruthless ruler.”

 

“Did he ever do anything to you?”

 

“Once. I was ordered to stay out of something, but I couldn’t just let anyone get hurt. Apparently the person I saved was of angelic descent. His name was Seraph. Oh , Lucas was fucking pissed. My demonic powers were practically wiped from me. He had to give them back, but only because I couldn’t survive as a pure Soul Eater otherwise.”

 

“He almost killed you!”

 

“Wouldn’t have been that way if I was a pure demon. I don’t know what he expected though! Seraph didn’t even look like an angel!”

 

“Really?”

 

“You know how I found out? Because he was in the same damn angelic uniform as the others on that battlefield. He was the one carrying your body to Zerithos.”

 

Johnny vaguely remembered a Seraph. That angel Malcom Follister spoke of him, but he wasn’t allowed to fight the war. 

 

If they allowed Seraph to fight, would Johnny have died?

 

Too many what ifs.

 

“We’re fucking traumatized.”

 

“No coming back from that,” Ian snickered. He sighed as they quieted, looking at Johnny.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“What for?”

 

“For listening. For comfort.”

 

“Always,” Johnny smiled. “I need to show my love somehow.”

 

Ian’s gaze softened, warmth beginning to peek through his smile. 

 

Johnny proceeded to etch that smile into his brain.

 

“You’ve been different,” Ian mused. “After Bela’s little dance thing. What did she give you?”

 

“I think she altered my brain,” Johnny giggled. “I can feel everything.”

 

“Like… everything? ”

 

“Well, not outside of myself. Before, it was like, maybe three emotions I could feel? Now it’s just everything all at once and it’s freaking me out a little because I can’t tell which is which and it was already difficult to translate the handful of them I had before so now it feels like a clusterfuck and—”

 

“Johnny. It’s okay.”

 

“Is it?!”

“Yes,” Ian said slowly, as if fast words would kill Johnny. “This is a good thing, okay?”

 

“How?”

 

“Because you’ll feel good emotions more.”

 

Ian’s smile widened. He couldn’t argue with that.

 

“Why are you so sweet to me?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’re always doing things for me. You even shield my eyes from the sun. Nobody has to do that!”

 

“But you’re albino. The brightness bothers you.”

 

“That’s not the point!”

 

Ian chuckled sheepishly. “I do it out of love, Johnny. I care about you, you know. And you’re a hypocrite.”

 

“How?”

 

“You do things for me all the time. You even softened your voice as soon as I got my ears back.”

 

“Because the noise bothers you.”

 

“That’s not the point.” Ian grinned. Johnny huffed.

 

It was certainly odd, feeling this way after so long. Feeling light. Giddy. Happy. They both felt like children experiencing the world for the first time.

 

Ian felt so nice. His embrace was everything Johnny had missed.

 

Well, not everything . He was so horribly touch starved.

 

“Ian?”

 

“Yeah?” Yeah, not yes. He’d eased in. Johnny recognized that.

 

“When was the last time you’ve eaten a soul?”

 

Ian looked at the ceiling, humming.

 

“Too long ago,” Johnny decided. “You gonna starve again?”

 

“I didn’t plan on it,” Ian stammered. “Just got a bit caught up in, you know, possibly being Void’s sword kebab.”

Johnny groaned, slinging his leg over Ian to sit on top of him again.

 

“You need to keep track of that, it’s important,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt.

 

“What are you-”

 

“We’ve done this before. You’re gonna eat.”

 

“ Now? We really don’t need to—”

 

“Now.” Johnny let his shirt drape past his shoulders. He didn’t account for the fact it would also expose him to Ian. “Stop starving yourself.”

 

Ian’s ears drooped as he sat up to close the gap between them, hesitantly nipping at Johnny’s neck. He’s done this before, so why was he so nervous now?

 

As his fangs broke through Johnny’s skin, he immediately understood.

 

Ian’s hesitance gave way almost instantly, and he began to aggressively extract Johnny’s soul. His hands grabbed at Johnny’s hips, his teeth sank into his neck each time the punctures closed. 

 

From not having any contact for what seemed like eons to this much in one night…

 

Johnny was struggling to contain himself.

 

He just about melted as Ian ate his fill. They both knew his soul would replenish, they both knew Ian’s venom wouldn’t affect him. For this, Johnny loved being a Phoenix. He was able to give his literal essence to the one he loved most. Ian only enjoyed being a soul eater with Johnny. He loved the idea that he only needed his lover to survive.

 

Johnny felt Ian’s tail begin to wrap around him. He noticed the head of it was more whole.

 

He was healing . Slowly but surely.

 

Why was that? 

 

Ian’s next bite jolted him out of his thoughts, and he stifled a yelp. It didn’t take long before he was unable to hide it, now whimpering against his composure. Ian’s ears fluttered at the sound, and he couldn’t help but bring Johnny closer, aching for him.

 

Johnny was reeling . His mind wouldn’t stop wandering, his body felt electric. He could only think about Ian, and God, was it intoxicating.

 

Ian pulled away from Johnny’s neck, catching his breath. Johnny looked so lovely like this, misty-eyed gaze stuck on Ian. It made his longing worse.

 

“Johnny?”

 

“Uh-huh?”

 

“Can I, um…” Ian’s ears drooped. How embarrassing. “Have…you?”

 

“Have me?”

 

God. “Can we…”

 

“ Oh! ” Johnny’s face flushed a pretty red. He smiled sweetly, giving Ian a graceful nod.

 

Before Ian could react, Johnny cupped his face, kissing him surprisingly hungrily for how he’d answered his question. As desperate as it felt, it felt nothing like what happened before they’d gone their separate ways in the war. There was nothing rushing them, nothing they had to hide from one another, no promises lingering over them like heavy obligations. They weren’t risking getting in trouble for being near one another at the wrong time, weren’t risking being distracted in the face of an ambush, nothing. 

 

They were finally able to love one another in totality. Something they’d ached for, grieved over separately.

 

Something they cherished.

 

—

Ian hadn’t slept that well in ages. 

 

He and Johnny decided it would be a lovely idea to roam the halls when they got up the next day. To their surprise, Rowan and Jasper were already awake.

 

Jasper was leaning against the wall, talking to a very dreamy-eyed Rowan. He was looking at him the way Johnny looked at Ian before they…

 

He didn’t want to imagine that.

 

Rowan made panicked eye contact with Ian, stiffening quickly. Jasper laughed at him.

 

Johnny knew exactly what was up with Rowan. He was in the same boat, after all.

 

Cirro and Elias emerged from their rooms at the same time. Johnny found it odd how Cirro wouldn’t even say good morning to Elias. He found it odd how droopy their tails looked. How puffy Elias’s eyes looked. How Cirro’s eyes were just as puffy.

 

Were they always like that? He hadn’t known them well or long enough to recognize their patterns, but he thought this was strange.

 

Did they follow normal mush body language? Did that even apply to them as gods?

 

Maybe he’d ask. Maybe not.

 

Maia, on the other hand, emerged from her chambers with the utmost grace. She looked fresh, like nothing could ever bother her.

 

Rowan somehow got even stiffer.

 

Johnny wondered if he should go find Bela. She insisted they had things to do, places to go…

 

Yes. He’d find her.

 

Maybe she was with Thea?

 

That would be his first stop. He knocked gently before cracking the door ajar…

 

Wait.

 

Why were three women in the same bed?

—

Chapter 31: Thirty One

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

The giant breakfast table was bustling with activity, thanks to Bela’s magic. The spread was truly impressive—pancakes, waffles, crispy bacon, and cups of tea dotted the table.

"Dig in, everyone!" Bela chimed, smiling as she sat between her two magic wives, Thea and Vacante.

Rowan didn’t hesitate to take a stack of flapjacks, layering bacon between each one like a sandwich. Jasper, seated next to him, shot a look of mild concern, but he knew this was just Rowan being Rowan—hungry and unapologetically chaotic with his food. Maia, ever the picture of grace, took a cup of tea and nibbled on a crumpet, her eyes gently scanning the lively scene.

Cirro and Elias sat more quietly, their usual energy subdued. Neither seemed to have much of an appetite, and they both settled for just some water, quietly observing the rest of the table.

Meanwhile, Bela and Thea fussed over Vacante, whose bright curiosity about eating like a human made the moment even more endearing. Bela lovingly served her a small plate with fruit and toast, gently guiding her through each bite, while Thea watched with a tender smile, nibbling on her own piece of sausage.

Not far from them, Johnny and Ian sat with similar warmth. Ian’s tail wagged happily as he fed Johnny a piece of his waffle, both of them enjoying the breakfast in their own little world of affection.

The room buzzed with a kind of warmth that came from being surrounded by loved ones, though a certain tension still lingered between Cirro and Elias. It was unspoken, yet palpable, especially for those who had been paying close attention to the subtle changes in the air between the two gods.

 

As everyone was settling into their meal, Bela’s curiosity got the better of her. “Sooooo! How was everyone’s night?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

The table immediately fell silent. Maia glanced around, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Johnny and Ian squirmed in their seats, exchanging glances as memories from the previous night flickered in their minds. They both flushed slightly, clearly recalling their... activities .

Rowan and Jasper, on the other hand, avoided each other’s eyes entirely. Rowan’s cheeks flushed a vibrant red as his golden eyes betrayed his embarrassment. Jasper, meanwhile, stared off into space, visibly still processing the events of last night.

Cirro and Elias, too, were visibly uncomfortable. They both focused intently on their water glasses, refusing to look at each other or anyone else.

Johnny couldn’t help but notice Rowan’s flustered state. He had half a mind to tease him, but as he looked more closely, his eyes widened. Bandages wrapped around Rowan’s tail, and there were faint scars and suction marks that told their own story.

What the fuck did they do last night? Johnny thought, jaw practically on the floor.

Maia, entirely unaware of the underlying tension, wanted to ask her son what the fuss was about. But as she opened her mouth, Rowan’s nervous smile and twitching eyes made her hesitate.

Bela, however, was far more direct. “I heard some weird noises coming from your room. Were you two okay?” she asked, her eyes now firmly locked on Rowan.

All eyes turned toward Rowan and Jasper, both on the verge of breaking down from the pressure.

Cirro, fully aware of what was going on, leaned back with an amused smirk, curious to see how far things would go. Elias glanced at Rowan, equally curious but trying to keep his expression neutral.

Maia turned to her son, starting to ask, “Row—”

That was it. Rowan snapped.

Without a word, he shot up from the table, sending dishes clattering, and bolted straight for the nearest window. In one swift move, he flung it open, leaped through, and executed a flawless barrel roll upon landing outside.

Everyone gasped, rushing to the window in time to see Rowan sprinting across the yard, disappearing into the distance.

Cirro and Elias erupted into laughter, clutching their stomachs as they howled in amusement. Johnny and Ian stared in awe, genuinely impressed by Rowan’s acrobatic escape.

Johnny, still in shock, muttered, “I really need to test him...”

Maia slapped her forehead in exasperation. “He used to do this all the time when he was younger, whenever he didn’t want to answer something,” she sighed.

Meanwhile, Bela, Thea, and Vacante exchanged bewildered glances. Out of all the options Rowan had, he chose to jump out of a second-story window.

As the attention shifted back to Jasper, they saw him still sitting in stunned silence, mouth agape. Without a word, he melted into a shadow and darted out after Rowan, disappearing into the distance as well.

Bela chuckled, breaking the stunned silence with a bright smile. “Well... this was an interesting breakfast, wasn’t it?”

 

-

—

 

“No, you can’t wear armor to the ball.”

 

“Why not, dearest?” 

 

“That’s not formal wear.”

 

“What is formal wear?”

 

“Yknow, clothes you wear to formal events. Like dances.”

 

“But you never wore clothes when you danced with The Stars.”

 

“T-that’s different and you know it!”

 

“Do I?” 

 

“Yes! Stop teasing me!”

 

“I am not, as you say, ‘teasing you.’” 

 

“Wipe that smug grin off your face, you are so teasing me!” 

 

“I would never tease you, Dearest.”

 

“Lies.”

 

“Such accusations. I suppose I shan’t wear anything to the Ball then.” 

 

“You cant just wear nothing! ” 

 

“Well then what should I wear, dearest. I’m all ears.” 

 

“Suit.” 

 

“A suit?” 

 

“Suit.” 

 

“Are you going to elaborate on your ideas, Dearest or-”

 

“No.”

 

The sounds of playful arguing prodded at Thea’s sleeping form, she slowly stirred, eyes scrunching in the sunlight pouring in from the curtains surrounding the bed. 

 

“Can you please talk quieter?”

 

“Oh! Good morning love!”

 

“Good morning, Warrior.” 

 

Thea sat up, the blankets polled down from her shoulders and sat at her waist. She was completely naked. Bela shamelessly stared at her toned chest and abdomen, Vacante was much more subtle about her ogling. Thea stretched and smirked at Bela’s gasp as she watched her wife’s muscles stretch and ripple. 

“Good morning you two.” She finally said after a while of her waking up. Bela pranced forward, her previous argument with Vacante completely forgotten as she perched herself on the bed beside Thea’s sitting form and leaned forward obviously expecting a kiss. With a gentle smile Thea leaned forward and kissed her, slow and sweet. 

 

“You should take a bath.” Vacante sat beside them, and trailed a hand up Thea’s arm. 

 

“And why is that, shadow?” 

 

“Yeah, Beloved, why is that?”

 

Vacante stared at the two women who were obviously trying to get some reaction from her, to this day she would never understand how human’s worked. They were all so confusing, she had been far too used to the strict rules she had assigned after The Fabric was stolen to suddenly adjust to the freeness of humanity. 

 

Regardless of her confusion Vacante finished her previous sentence. 

 

“You have guests approaching today, do you not want to look your best?” 

 

Thea groaned a bit at the reminder of how many guests she’d have to deal with today. Ever since the collision of the worlds their had been far more Gods than ever, which meant more people for her to greet and invite as her duties of Queen demanded. 

 

“I suppose you're right.” Thea stood and moved off the bed, Bela watched and bit her lip eyes trailing over Thea’s tanned and toned form. Vacante titled her head and considered the woman infront of them, she was a beauty after all. 

 

“Would either of you two like to join me?” 

 

“Yes.” Bela’s response was instant as she practically ran to the bathroom, her long sleep robe trailing behind her. Thea looked at Vacante, waiting for an answer, Vacante regarded the woman and declined her outstretched hand with a deep disappointment. 

 

“I have work to do, I must send out the invites to all your new guests.” 

 

“Ah. Well if you ever decide to join us you know where to find us.” Thea followed Bela’s lulling voice to the bathroom soon after she said this. 

 

Vacante sat among the silk sheets in her robe, before standing and dressing herself in her usual toga and armor combo, something Bela had tried to get her to change many times.

 

She could hear playful arguments and laughs from the bathroom, and though she wished to join her loves she had to put her duties first. 

 

—

 

Bela lounged in the warmth of the pouring water of the large tub, across the room Thea stood in front of the mirror and examined her figure for any imperfections and rumples from sleep. Ever the perfectionist in life. Bela tilted her head back and closed her eyes, her hair was short now by her own command, ever since she had found she could control the shape and style of her hair just by her thoughts she had gone wild with it. 

 

As of now her hair sat at her nape, a pixie cut of starry curls draping down over her ears in light swirls. She felt more than heard the water shift and ripple as Thea stepped into the large tub and stalked down its marble stairs to the bottom of the basin where Bela lounged. 

 

Thea moved forward in the water and sat herself beside Bela’s crossed legs. Her dark markings shone under the water next to the light constellations that marked Bela’s body. The constellations swirled around her skin and glowed in steady pulses. White against dark skin, a wonderful contrast in Thea’s opinion.

 

“Songbird.” 

 

Bela hummed in response, and moved her head to the direction of Thea’s voice. 

 

“Yes, love?”

 

“We havent had much time alone in the past six months.”

 

“Yes, and?”

 

“We're alone now are we not?” 

 

Bela laughed, low and deep and opened her blue eyes to gaze at Thea’s dark and lustful gaze. 

 

“Well then…” She moved quickly and star herself on Thea’s thighs, the water splashed against the nearby walls and steps on the large bath. 

 

“What do you want to do to me, my Queen?” Thea grabbed at Bela’s hips and brough her naked form closer so their chests brushed as she caught Bela’s mouth in a deep and bruising embrace. 

 

Bela wrapped her arms, covered in winding white marks, around Thea’s strong neck. Under her waves of loose blonde hair. Thea in turn wrapped her large arms around Bela’s hips and brought her close enough that the two women were practically melting into each other.

 

The kiss grew heavier, full of lust and love and longing.  The two women parted with deep gasps and Thea moved forward and began nipping harshly at Bela’s exposed neck uncaring of the visible marks she’d be leaving. 

 

Bela shifted in her spot on Thea’s strong legs, using her arms to bring Thea closer to her neck and stretching to allow more space for her to mark up. The bathroom echoed with the sounds of whines and whispers of adoration as the two women enjoyed themselves. Taking their fill of the other in the best way. 

 

—

 

Johnny shifted in the large bed of Ian’s chambers, slowly he was waking up. Ian sat in the bed checking something on his phone but quickly discarded it by placing it on one of the nearby tables as he noticed Johnny stirring. 

 

“Did you sleep well?” 

 

Johnny groaned in response and muttered incoherently into his pillow, his long white hair strewn across the sheets and covering his face from view.

 

Ian laughed and poked at where he assumed his nose was under the blanket of hair, he had guessed right as Johnny removed his face from where he had been burying it in the pillow to glare playfully at Ian.

 

“Letmesleep.” He huffed and dropped his face back down into the goose down pillow. Ian poked at him again in retaliation.

 

“No can do, birdie, we have a fitting for the ball today.” 

 

“AUGH!” Johnny practically threw himself under the covers, Ian watched with poorly hidden amusement and laughs.

 

“Birdie, cmon. We gotta get up and have breakfast.” 

 

“No.”

 

“And why not?”

 

“I'm not doing fittings for the gala, I refuse to have someone poke and prod at me for hours on end to get my measurements.” 

 

“Understandable,” Ian trailed off and a comfortable silence filled the air, clearly Johnny had thought Ian would drop the subject by now. Ian did not.

 

‘However!” Johnny groaned a kicked at Ian from under the covers, Ian dogged the uncoordinated hit with ease and lifted the blankets to look at Johnny’s grumpy face. He resisted the urge to coo at the other man.. 

 

“Bela is doing yours and Rowan’s fitting cause she knew you’d both be uncomfortable with strangers.”

 

Rather than reassure Johnny this seemed to scare him more.

 

“That devil woman is gonna put me in a fucking three piece suit, I just know it.” 

 

Ian snorted and tried to pass it off as a cough, it didn't work. 

 

“Babe, Birdie, c'mon it'll be quick and then you'll be done, promise.” 

 

Johnny feigned considering his words, Ian knew this well, he was going to suggest something else something completely out of left field. 

 

“Do you think I would get caught if I hid in the lab all day?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

“No faith in me, I see how it is.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you it’s just that I know Bela will hunt you down.” 

 

“I’m willing to take that risk.” 

 

“Alright, I’ll see you after the fitting then. Im going to go get food, do you want me to bring you something?”

 

Johnny went silent, before nodding in defeat. 

 

“Alright, love you.”

 

“Love you too.” 

 

—

 

“Have you found her, Lydia.”

 

“Yes. She ran off to another world it seems. She’s been there for the past few months.”

 

“So this isn’t just a normal dimensional hop for her.”

 

“She must have something keeping her there, something important.”

 

“Bright Shadow, gather a team, I think it’s time we bring her back here. Heavens know what she’s doing to the world.” 

 

“But-”

 

“Lydia, she’s your godchild, don’t you want her in a place where we can keep her safe?”

 

“I-”

 

“I do.” 

 

“Then allow us to send a team for her, we’ll bring her back and heal her. We finally have a way to keep her safe and happy now. No more of those dimensional hops and tantrums.” 

 

“Are you sure this is the best option, after all, Cleanser just joined the Hero Society a few months ago.”

 

“And yet their power is more than enough to heal her, after all, don’t you want her to be free from all those terrible haunting thoughts again?”

 

“Well yes, but-”

 

“Then why are you so against us retrieving her and freeing her from all that pain?”

 

“It just, it seems immoral somehow..”

 

“I assure you, this will only help her not harm her.” 

 

“She’ll be far happier this way Lydia, allow Cleanser to do their work and you can have her back, whole.” 

 

“...”

 

“Well then, all in agreement?”

 

“Aye!”

 

“We’ll send a search party to the dimension tonight to do recon and we’ll bring her back home tomorrow.”

 

“Lydia.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You will go with the squad to assure they bring back the right one. Understand?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Good.”

 

“Let’s bring Belladonna back home then.” 

 

—

 

Silence.

 

Footsteps.

 

Two pairs.

 

One in heels, the other in sneakers.

 

Two women, one young one old.

 

The older woman wore a suit. Long bell bottom pants, a white semi buttoned shirt, and red square glasses over her dark skinned face. Her eyes were brown and piercing, sharp like broken glass. 

 

Long red hair flowed behind her as she walked quickly, the woman beside her kept a smooth pace.

 

She had ratty jeans and a cropped fishnet top over a black bra, white and short hair in a curly bob decorated with safety pins pushing back her bangs. 

 

Dark makeup, piercing green eyes like acid, narrowed and suspicious. 

 

“Lydia?”

 

“Yes, Oleander?”

 

“Is it true what Black Mirror said?”

 

‘What did he say to you, flower?”

 

“He said that those people in the other dimension kidnapped Belladonna, that they brainwashed her, that they changed her irreparibly to replace their own lost Belladonna. Is it true? You were there earlier tonight, you would know.” 

 

Silence. 

 

Footsteps.

 

Two pairs. 

 

Three, a hidden set, far behind the two women.

 

Black Mirror.

 

“...I believe he could be right, but for now it is simply a theory, we have no clue until we interact with her ourselves.” 

 

“...If they did…”

 

“If they did? Finish your sentence dear, I won't judge.” 

 

“...If they did, I’ll throw them in the deepest cellear we have here, how could they change my sister like that?” 

 

Lydia was silent and allowed Oleander to speak freely, Black Mirror watched pleased with his mnaipulations of the younger woman. They wouldn't find the truth, not until it was far too late. 

 

“Sure, Belladonna has her moments, her accidents, but that’s to be expected with how much power she has. It’s not like I’ve been better in any case, I’ve hurt, stolen, lied, cheated, and killed just as much as she has. The only difference is the intention, she just wants to help, I however, just want others to feel my hurt..” 

 

Oleander looked at Lydia, the older woman stopped walking and looked at her with pity.

 

‘Am- Am I broken, Lydia?” 

 

“No, my child, you’re just hurt, not broken.” 

 

“How do I stop hurting?”

 

Lydia was silent for a time.

 

“It takes time, but most importantly it takes effort.” 

 

“...I don’t know if I have the energy to change. The effort.” 

 

“You don’t have to do it alone. Once Belladonna is back, she can help you. Your sister was always your rock after all.”

 

“...”

 

“You're right. Once Belladonna is back everything will be alright.” 

 

Silence.

 

Footsteps.

 

Three pairs.

 

Two walked forward, one walked back.

 

Black Mirror was satisfied with his plan, soon enough Belladonna would be back, just the way she used to be. Just the way she should have been. 

 

—

 

Invitations

 

—

 

Cirro 

 

Elias

 

Stagnanty

 

Change

 

Love

 

Humanity

 

Design

 

Language

 

Li Feng

 

Leaf - Alyvia

 

Weather - Celine

 

Annuchron

 

Honey

 

Zion

 

Vixen

 

Zerithos

 

Life

 

Death

 

Earth

 

The Planets

 

The Law of Order

 

Magic

 

Time

 

The Cult of Malia

 

Malia

 

The Stars

 

The Fates

 

Everything

 

Nothing

 

—

 

Bela walked down the halls, the afternoon sunlight followed her and illuminated her figure. She was still dressed in her nightclothes. A pink dress with black dotted patterns and lace decorating the hem and top of the dress. She wrapped her black shawl closer around her figure as she hunted for her two victims.

 

Johnny and Rowan were evading her.

 

It was the day of the Winter Solstice, which meant that tonight they would have a ball of which all the Gods would attend to mingle with carefully selected mortals. Bela had never attended one of these, this would be her first time. But she had a leg up being born into a prestigious family, she was used to high end and formal dances and events. Johnny and Rowan however were not. 

 

Ian had left to go talk with Thea about the guest list, Vacante was still trying to decide on what to wear, Jasper had gone ahead to the ballroom on the top floor to help with preparations and decor. Likely to get out of the table manners lesson Bela would be constructing with Johnny and Rowan. 

 

Make no mistake others would be attending, Ian for example, she would have to trick him into attending though as he had voiced his distaste against the idea firmly when she brought it up yesterday while he was being fitted for his outfit by the palace tailors.

 

As she stalked the halls she sent wisps of her magic out to try and find Rowan and Johnny, almost immediately as she passed by the offered quarters for everyone did she get a ping. She stood there incredulous and turned to the hallway beside her where each room lay.

 

Rowan.

 

Frown morphing into a bright and clearly malicious smile she skipped her way down the hallway, she would not giving him a happy morning that’s for sure.  

 

“PUT THE FUCKING SHIRT ON OR SO HELP ME STARS ABOVE I WILL-”

 

“YOU’LL WHAT TURN ME INTO A FROG?!”

 

“NO, WORSE I’LL TURN YOU INTO A FUCKING BEETLE!”

 

“YOU WOULDNT DARE.”

 

“TRY ME BITCH!” 

 

Rowan tried to run out the window for the sixth time in the past thirty minutes, he bounced off of an invisible wall for the sixth time yet again.

 

Bela moved forward holding the shirt in her grasp, stalking slowly as though she was facing a wild animal. Rowan might as well have been one with all the hissing he was doing, his tail swishing dangerously behind him and he was clearly seconds away from throwing acid at her and running. 

She had already been forced to use her magic to simply switch his pants for the ones she had designed with the tailors yesterday, she was hoping she could simply get him to surrender and put the shirt and vest on normally. It wasnt looking like she’d be able to get her wish though.

 

Rowan took advantage of the brief moment she was lost in thought and bottled past her, sliding between her legs. She whirled around shirt clenched in a fist and raced after his form as he bolted down the palace halls. 

 

“GET BACK HERE!” 

 

“NO!”

 

Groaning under her breath, Bela stopped and dissipated in a blue mist, reappearing right before Rowan and tackling him to the ground. Yelling and biting ensued as Rowan tried his best to escape as though it was a life or death situation. Bela kicked him in the nose and finally after a long and arduous battle stood victorious before a fully dressed Rowan.

 

Rowan now wore a white, prim and proper button up with fluffy sleeves, the collar remained unbuttoned and showed his clavicle and overtop of it layed a red vest covered in golden windings patterns of vines. The patterns continued on his black pants with red mesh windows on both hips. His feet were trapped in a pair of black shoes with dark maroon socks. Meanwhile his tail was decorated with golden rings and such and his hair was actually neat for once. 

 

Rowan sulked at his defeat, he had tried to rip the outfit off but found Bela had magiked the entire thing onto his person so that he couldnt ruin it or get rid of it before the ball came. It would simply reappear on his person, much to his utter frustration.  

 

Rowan opened his mouth likely to cuss Bela out for looking so smug despite her now ruffled appearance but at that moment he spotted Johnny hiding behind a pillar nearby. Johnny caught his eye and made a shushing motion before placing his hands together in an obvious plea. Rowan nodded at Johnny subtly and the albino man visibly relaxed in relief that he wouldnt be targeted next by Bela.

 

That relief soon faded into unimaginable horror at the words he heard next.

 

“Bela, Johnny’s hiding behind that pillar behind you.” 

 

Bela whipped around, her eyes glinting like stars behind a shadowed face as she locked onto her target. Johnny froze like a deer in headlights. They stood there looking at each other like a western showdown. 

 

Johnny booked it.

 

Bela and Rowan looked at each other and came to a conclusion.

 

Truce?

 

Truce.

 

They bolted after him, Bela’s laughter echoed through the halls and the guards watched in thinly hidden amusement as Johnny ran with the Queen Consort and their newest friend racing after him. 

 

—

 

“No, you cannot wear a fucking lab coat to the gala.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“You did not just ask me ‘why not.’”

 

“But I did.”

 

“I’m gonna choke you out.”

 

“No you won't.”

 

“...No I won’t.”

 

Johnny looked far too smug for Bela’s taste, she flicked him on the forehead in retaliation. He stumbled back like he was shot and placed a hand over his head.

 

“Betrayal!” He cried.

 

Ian snorted from where he stood at the wardrobe in the bedroom. Johnny glared at him, clearly expecting support rather than laughter. Ian laughed harder. 

 

Taking advantage of his distraction Bela snapped her fingers, Johnny spun around to face her crude words to yell on the tip of his tongue.

 

“DON’T YOU DARE-” 

 

Bela magiked the outfit onto Johnny.

 

Johnny stood there, blinked at her, turned to Ian who began to laugh and blush heavily at the same time, and then he marched out of the room.

 

Or well, he tried to. 

 

Vacante stood on the other side of the grand door, clearly having been just about to enter it herself. Huffing Johnny moved aside and let her enter. She grabbed him by his wrist and dragged him to a sitting area near the wardrobe, practically throwing him onto the chair.

 

“You look nice.” She said it as though it was fact before moving to Thea and Bela near the middle of the large bedroom.

 

“I’ve sent out all the invites yesterday, the guests will be arriving shortly.”

 

The setting sun marked the arrival of the first guest with a bell tolling from the foyer of the palace. Thea groaned and adjusted her crown. She wore a red cloak which hung asymmetrically across her body from one shoulder. Underneath the cloak she wore a white lace bralette and a pair of white silk trousers. Feet tucked into golden platform sandals and arms graced with winding golden vines. 

 

Her hair was decorated with pearls and golden pins and rings, placed in a tiered bun. She wore no makeup, allowing her scars and tattoos to shine freely. This was even more evident when she leaned down and kissed Bela on the forehead, leaving behind no marks. She then stepped forward and kissed Vacante’s cheek.

 

“Duty calls, I must go greet the guests now. I’ll be seeing you all soon at the ballroom.” 

 

With that Thea vanished from the room, her cloak swirling behind her. 

 

—

 

“Please Welcome, Belladonna Dumitrescu, The Queen Consort of The Reformed World.” 

 

Bela stepped down the large and regal staircase, it ended at a large landing which many guests stood upon to mingle before splitting off into two separate staircases leading down to the ballroom floor. A man with red hair wearing a traditional chinese outfit stood nearby and he smiled at her, dipping his head in acknowledgment as he sipped the sake he was holding. Bela bowed her head back towards him and walked down the stairs to the ball floor. 

 

By one of the balconies stood a woman with a red dress, gold accents, and red flowers bloomed across her body not dissimilar to the yellow flowers blooming on Rowan’s vines. She was entertaining a handful of guests by sparking fireworks above them drawing the attention and excitement of many. 

 

Bela watched the display from afar and waited for the signal of Johnny, Rowan, Ian, and Vacante’s arrival. As she waited a man with large brown mouse ears came up to her, a server for the palace, he was holding a plate full of champagne flutes. Bela took one and voiced her gratitude before sipping from it leisurely. 

 

Bela examined the many guests before her, off to the side and nearly hidden she could see two women speaking in hushed tones. The taller woman had dark blue hair with brown skin, she was scowling at the people around her but her look softened when she gazed at the smaller woman in front of her. She wore a dark suit, with a flowing skirt attached to her pants. A dark blue accented her clothing with trickles of silver jewelry dangling from the collar and sleeves. 

 

The smaller woman had purple hair, long and curled, it flowed down her back like delicate waves crashing into the cliffs. She wore a large skirted outfit, with purple bows and lilac accents. The bodice was white and the sleeves were a light almost iridescent purple, flowing down at her elbows. At the back of her head sat a large silk bow with gems placed in it dangling down into her locks of hair. 

 

Bela recognized them somewhat from a past dimension hop, the two women, Weather and Leaf was it? She wasn’t all that good with remembering names. 

 

Just like how she had glossed over running into Li Feng and Annuchron earlier. 

 

As she waited, a group passed her, clad in red of various shades. It was obvious there were two leaders of the group, one in a red dress with slits on both sides at the peak of her hips and gold accents and the other with a dress that hooked together behind her neck meeting at her stomach to tie around a ring and dropping down into slitted skirts from there. 

 

The first woman had long brown hair almost as long as Bela’s starry locks which brushed the floor, this other woman had six large horns pinned into her hair holding a bun at the back. Three horns on each side of her head laced with golden chains. 

 

The second woman had long black hair with red undertones, it glittered in the light of the ballroom and she laced her arm around the shorter woman’s waist as they talked. It was clear these two were involved. 

 

The rest of the group watched them and made playful fun of the two lovebirds. A dark skinned woman with a short dress and two upside down horns made a whistling sound and a man who was almost the exact same as the first woman joined her. The first woman turned around and hissed at him.

 

“Elias, I swear to Malia, shut it.”

 

“Oh, cmon Willow, let me have some fun while I’m here.”

 

The woman, Willow, looked at him with crossed arms. The other woman placed a hand over her shoulder, Bela couldnt see any of the groups eyes since they were all covered with various blindfolds and veils. 

 

“Chelle, should I let him have his fun or should we duke it out on the balcony?” The taller woman considered her words much to Elias’ dismay.

 

“Michelle!” He groaned, “c'mon don’t do me like this!” 

 

The taller woman, Michelle, smirked and looked at the dark skinned woman.

 

“What say you Layla?” Layla turned to the woman on her arm with dark ginger hair.

 

“Micah, do you think we should sacrifice Elias to Willow’s fury?” 

 

Micah nodded and smiled at Elias’ squawk of indignance.

 

“He ate the last yogurt in the meeting room without telling me, kill him.” 

 

Elias moved forward, his decorated horns jingled with the movement. And he began to playfully plead for his life, it was clear he knew he was in no danger.

 

The final woman, with dusty ginger hair watched in amusement, Bela could tell from the wry curl of her lips. 

 

“Micah, just get the man back at the next party he goes to or something.” Micah held a hand up and Elias stopped his pleading, she turned toward the other woman and smiled.

 

“Great idea, Delilah.” 

 

Elias groaned clearly not happy with this arrangement but gave into his soon approaching demise. 

 

The group then turned at the approach of a new woman, she had dark blue skin covered with various mouths. They smiled at Bela, Bela smiled back. The mouths closed in satisfaction. 

 

“Children.” 

 

The group stood at attention, and looked at the blue woman who had a face similar to a porcelain doll.

 

“Malia!” Willow cheered and hugged the woman, Malia embraced her back. Her four horns allowed her to tower over the other woman. One set faced the sky, the other faced the ground. As she spoke, her red heart shaped mouth did not move. Her voice sounded as though it came from all surrounding areas, a demon then, Bela figured. 

 

Malia looked at her with unblinking dark eyes, a white pinprick pupil in the middle of them, the rest of the group turned in unison their covered faces looking at her intensely. She smiled and leaned back on the pillar behind her. Her jewel encrusted corset bent slightly at the action and her draping sleeves slid down her arms. Her halo headband stood at strict attention. 

 

“Hello, Cult of Malia, and of course, Malia.” 

 

The group smiled at her, sharp like sharks watching their prey. She smiled back just as sharp and watched as the group regarded her with satisfaction. She had passed some unseen test of theirs.

 

“Children, let us go greet other guests, maybe you’ll find something of interest along the way?”

 

The group acquiesced and moved along, Bela watched them disappear into the heavy crowd. 

 

Across the ballroom loud and gentle laughter echoed from children, a few of the Concepts had taken time out of their usual dallying in the grove to attend. Magic herself, Mera, was summoning various creatures made of flames and water to entertain the children. Her wife, Time, stood nearby. Ini watched with joy at the children’s laughter. She held Kindness steadily in her arms while Hatred stood at attention hiding behind her long white skirts. 

 

Farther away stood the three Creators. Bela had met them all, completely by accident of course, or maybe by design.  Either way she could see them mingling together away from most of the crowd, the people attending seemed to avoid them without noticing as though the Creators simply didn't exist to them. 

 

Honey waved at Bela from where she stood drinking a large glass of well, honey. Her eyes were solid gold and staring directly into Bela like the other person could see into her very thoughts. Bela wouldn’t put it past them to be able to do so. 

 

Meanwhile Zion stood towering above Vixen, sipping steadily at a cup full of entirely just paint. 

Vixen looked up at Zion, gesturing with her hands, her face hidden behind a cracked kitsune mask filled with gold lining. Her purple regency era dress flowed steadily to the ground brushing against Honey’s dress lined with dark fur and flowing like liquid at the edges of the skirt. Zion shimmered in the light of the ballroom, its iridescent colored outfit catching the light beautifully with its sparkling sleeves and pant legs. 

 

Honey moved closer to the other Creators and the air shimmered and suddenly Bela could no longer see the three. She huffed and brought her drink back to her lips casting her gaze around for anything else to entertain her. There seemed to be nothing unless you count Life trying to hide from her behind Owen, who was clearly still struggling with forgiving her for her lies. He held their baby in his arms, wearing his own miniature suit. 

 

Bela refrained from cooing at the sight, she would have gone up to them but she didn't want to deal with Life right now at all. 

 

Mother Earth, Gaia, breezed past Bela. She wore a flowing outfit of vines and leaves, tangled with flowers of various breeds and sizes. Trailing after her were The Planets. The Moon rushed after Earth, she was small almost like a child and wore a sparkling silver dress with black spots and detailing. The Sun stood in the middle of the group, wearing a bright outfit of various warm tones. 

 

Neptune with its wavelike outfit, Uranus with its cold and icy gaze, Saturn with her many ringed dress, Venus with her brown and red color palette, Mars with its spiky appearance and Jupiter with its stormy face followed suit. 

 

Death hung to the back of the crowd, unseen by many and wearing a striking red. Bela wanted to go up to Death and compliment their outfit but she refrained, she knew better than most how shy Death could be.  

 

Cirro and Elias had joined the crowd and hung around Maia who stood in a large and gorgeous lace and silk ballgown, At her side Cirro wore a white robe with gold detailing and accents, gold flats adorned his feet. He stood a bit away from Elias, it was clear that the two Gods had yet to resolve their tension. Bela wondered what it was, she considered reading their minds to find out but allowed them their privacy. She was trying to be better, to be kinder now. She had no reason to bite, to be violent, anymore. 

 

Elias meanwhile wore the opposite of Cirro, he wore a dark robe with silver detailing and accents, chains dangled down the smooth fabric and his feet were laced with black flats. His tail was dropping, so was Cirro’s. Bela felt for both of them but she knew that she couldn't force them to resolve their conflict, if she intervened they’d likely take it as some sort of bad omen or order rather than a friend trying to offer her help. 

 

Boredom began to creep up on Bela, but it stopped at the arrival of two hands covering her eyes.

 

“Guess who!” 

 

“Tati.” 

 

“Ugh, no fair, you always know when it's me.”

 

“You're just too predictable, Tati.” 

 

Tatiana moved in front of her, wearing a white shirt with golden accents and a diamond shaped chest window, her pants were dark green with mesh windows on the sides of her legs from her hips to her ankles. The mesh was a light, almost white, green. 

 

Her hair, now fully white, brushed against her face in a short pixie cut of curls. Her green eyes sparkled like stars and she smiled widely at her much calmer sister. 

 

Behind her she could feel the approach of their parents. Her mother came into her field of view first and watched with a smile as Tatiana stole Belladonna's champagne glass and chugged it. Her mother had her hair loose for tonight, settling around her in big dark curls. It brushed her shoulders. 

 

She wore a neckline of solid gold laced with light pink gems, her dark pink eyes sparkled like diamonds in the light. From the neck down to her low settled neckline the dress consisted of striped mesh, it ended at her wrists which were laced with various bracelets and bangles. A jweled corset lined with gold accentuated her waist. Below the dark pink corset was a dress of starry material that glittered in the light. Her mother moved forward and placed a ringed hand at her cheek admiring her beloved youngest daughter. 

 

“Darling, we wanted to see how you’ve been doing.” 

 

Bela lifted her own hand to cover her mother’s as she leaned into her warm grasp.

 

“I’m fine, Mama, how are you doing?” 

 

“We’re just fine, my dear.” Her father answered, following his wife to the corner Bela occupied. 

 

“Papa.” She greeted the man, dressed in various shades of red. His glowing red eyes caught her gaze, his dark skin and darkened ginger hair making it obvious what kind of witch he was. A witch of Chaos. 

 

His outfit was lined with gold and red jewels, a dark red shirt with a mesh top and sleeves as well as dark red pants and golden boots. His hands were adorned with rings of various sizes, almost as though he was flexing the amount of money he had. 

 

Bela could hear a whisper and looked across the way to one of the balconies, The Children stood there in their true forms beckoning her. Bringing her family to attention she pointed to the balcony and asked them to follow her.

 

Like any true family they followed. 

 

—

Chapter 32: Thirty Two

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Johnny entered the ballroom with Ian finding himself almost instantly overwhelmed by the amount of people, he practically ran to an unoccupied and hidden corner of the room which he could trust no one would bother him in. He stood there clothed in a dark green dress shirt, with a black vest with emerald pins and jewels adorning it. The sleeves draped off into an almost black lace, an ombre effect on the fabric.

Meanwhile his pants were a steady and normal black, with gold accents on the sides. His feet stood in platformed dress shoes, black and shining.

Ian stood beside him, dark makeup ringing his eyes, he wore a black dress skirt with a lace collar. A dark green overcoat with golden buttons and lace sleeves and black patterned pants. Black dress shoes shining on his feet, no platforms cause he was already tall enough as it is.

His ears held the devices Johnny had made a few months back, to help dim down the loudness of everyday life and living that being in a palace brought. He was more thankful than ever for it now, what with how many people were attending the ball.

Johnny heard calls of his name and tried to meld deeper into the shadows, who could be looking for him now of all times? It didn't sound like Bela, it souded like-

Oh.

Rowan.

Johnny moved out from his hiding place and looked around spotting Rowan heading his way in his red and gold outfit. Jasper trailed behind him, his white shirt stark against his dark inky skin. There was a star cutout in the middle of his chest and he wore a blue and starry cape over his left shoulder. It ended with gold accents and tassels. His hair was pinned back in a ponytail with golden star clips, glittering in the light.

Around his waist was a gold belt with chains flying around him, interlocked by stars. Beneath that lay a half skirt of blue and white starry fabric overtop of black pants and dress shoes. Johnny almost wanted to shield his eyes from how much of the man was shining but he refrained for fear of appearing rude.

Rowan ran up to Johnny and began talking rather animatedly to him, clearly complaining about having to wear formal wear and being prevented from bringing his bombs along with him by Thea. Speaking of Thea, Ian could spy her walking towards a balcony at which Bela and her family rested with a group of tall creatures. The creatures towered over the group, easily around twenty feet tall, maybe that’s why they were out on the balcony.

Ian watched as Jasper approached him and gazed rather sweetly at Rowan, Ian began to talk with him but that’s when his eye caught on something entering the ballroom. At the top of the stairs, no attention was paid to the twelve foot tall man.

Him.

Zerithos.

—

Zerithos looked no different from when Ian remembered seeing him last.

It made his blood boil.

That wretched muted blue suit reminded him of those angelic uniforms.

Someone trailed behind him as he descended the stairwell, clumsy and awkward.

Someone with fluffy red hair.

Someone whose ears reminded him of his own. Reminded him of when they’d been cut.

Seraph. No, no, no.

Ian lost all air, backing up into the wall in a panic as all of his memories came rushing forward all at once. Johnny grabbed his arm, startled.

“Ian?”

Why couldn’t he get enough air? His breathing was ragged, his vision was tunneling.

“Ian, your eyes are black!”

Black? No, that’s not right.

He didn’t feel angry, did he?

He’d never had his sin take over him before.

This wasn’t right. Not at all.

“Ian?! Ian, where are you going?!”

Was he moving? Felt more like drowning.

When he’d finally caught his breath, his teeth were lodged in something. It was bleeding, but tasted terribly bitter.

Bitter?

His heart skipped. This wasn’t Johnny.

He tried willing himself to pull away, but he couldn’t do it. His vision was wavering, it was far too blurry. Everything sounded so weirdly muffled. Were the hearing devices defective? Surely not.

He was pulled off of the thing he was biting. It almost felt like he was getting tackled or something.

His teeth sank into something else. Something sweet, like nectar.

Johnny.

His vision slowly unclouded. Johnny sat under him, arm extended into his bite. His eyes were frantic, darting back and forth.

Why?

“Lenor.”

Fuck.

Ian turned his head towards the voice, meeting Seraph’s pained gaze before locking eyes with Zerithos. His pale golden eyes glowed, but they seemed so viciously dark.

Zerithos bent down, extending a hand towards Ian.

“Care for some assistance, demon?”

His voice. It was honeyed, feigning kindness. Hospitality as though he hadn’t pulled all those stunts before.

He stared at the King of Divinity for a moment, watching as his eyes trailed from his figure to Johnny.

Oh no.

God, no, wait.

“You…” Zerithos started. “Are Johnny, correct?”

“We have not met, sir.”

Zerithos didn’t seem to accept his answer. His eyes narrowed.

“Is that not your name?”

“I think you have mistaken me for another.”

“But how could I? You look just like him.”

Johnny cocked his head. “I am unsure of who you’re referring to.”

What was he doing?

“What is your name, then?”

Johnny blinked, then got off the floor, dusting himself off and helping Ian up.

“I don’t understand your interest in me, sir. I am only a mortal.”

“What is your species?” Zerithos stepped forward, Johnny did not budge.

“Soul eater. Why?”

Soul eater? Why would he say that?

“You do not look like one.”

“How rude!”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Zerithos chuckled, outstretching his arms. “You simply don’t look the part, is all. You don’t have the ears, nor the fangs of a soul eater.”

“I had them surgically removed,” Johnny said, as though the idea hurt him. “Having such features is a dangerous thing.”

His eyes darted to Seraph, who was clutching his bitten arm. It was unfortunate he was bitten and not the king, otherwise he’d be dead by now. But Seraph seemed to be a soul eater, an angelic hybrid.

“I suppose they saw the danger in your features, sir?”

Seraph flinched, his eyes darting to his ruler before going back to Johnny.

“I’d rather not speak of that.”

“My apologies,” Johnny dipped his head. “I had assumed you would be comfortable sharing your story, just as your companion had been so comfortable with his questions.”

Ian wanted to laugh at Zerithos’s annoyance. Johnny had quite the way with words; Ian had barely picked up on his insult towards the king.

It was tense. Ian was afraid to speak.

“How do you know Lenor?”

“We were hunting the same soul,” Johnny shrugged, speaking happily. “Fate would have it we bumped into one another on the way. We didn’t end up getting that soul, though… I suppose it was for the best.”

Zerithos hummed, still eyeing Johnny closely.

“And your name?”

“Silas Lenor,” Johnny said. It flowed so smoothly off his tongue, one would think it was natural. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to indulge you a moment or two longer.”

“Lenor?”

“We’re married, sir.” Johnny tilted his head. “I hope that is not an issue.”

“N-no, not at all,” Zerithos gritted. Ian wanted to take his head off right then and there. What a liar.

They fell tensely silent for a moment, before Johnny turned his attention to Seraph.

“My apologies for my husband’s earlier behavior.” He almost bowed. “Demon hybrids have a bit more trouble stabilizing themselves, what with the various Sins going through cycles. His cycle just so happens to be upon him. Surely you understand.”

Seraph nodded, eyes darting towards Ian. He looked…sorry.

Between being called Johnny’s husband and being met with someone who helped perpetuate all of his trauma, Ian’s emotions were way out of line.

“Sweetheart?”

Ian looked at Johnny, almost fearful as he locked their arms together.

“I believe you need some fresh air. That was quite an episode.”

Ian nodded, and they left Zerithos there. He seemed frustrated, real emotions peeking through the farther they got from him.

They went through the entrance, just past the doors where it was secluded.

“Ian, what the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know! One moment I was fine, and then—”

“Not that. Him.”

“He recognized you,” Ian sighed. “What were you doing?”

“He knows he killed me,” Johnny explained. “It would be a bit hard to explain my…otherworldliness.”

“But Silas?”

“It was the first thing that popped into my head! And being husbands would explain us being there together! And me helping you!”

“What about you being a soul eater?!”

 

“You bit me, Ian! He saw that! The only species viable to tolerate such a thing is yours and mine! If I had gone and said I was human, he’d know immediately! And I sure as hell wasn’t gonna say I was a Phoenix!”

Ian groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Now we gotta keep this up…”

 

“We gotta go tell Rowan. And Jasper. And Bela, and—”

“Okay, okay, yes. Now?”

“Now! Immediately! We don’t need them slipping up!”

Ian sighed as Johnny took his hand and walked back through the doors. How was he going to keep up with everything if he couldn’t even handle being faced with that damned man?

—

Johnny scanned the ballroom, seeing his group clustered in various areas. He wished they’d all stick together.

Rowan and Jasper seemed to be looking around frantically for them. Bela was off talking to what seemed to be her family as they ascended the stairs towards the balcony. Thea was stuck in royal introductions and small talk, Vacante seemed to just be staring somewhere in the direction of Maia and her friends, and the mushes…

Maia was practically shoving Cirro and Elias together. It almost looked as though she was scolding them.

Intriguing.

She was putting Elias’s hand on Cirro’s hip, and slinging Cirro’s arm over Elias’s shoulder. She swayed back and forth, explaining away with her hands as though something was urgent.

Was she showing them how to dance? Forcing them to dance?

Either way, the scenario was amusing.

The two gods swayed awkwardly as Maia continued what seemed like a terrible ramble. She twirled around, nudging Elias. He gave Cirro a slow twirl, bringing him closer once again in that painfully awkward sway.

“Ian, do you think something is up with them?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ve been odd around one another. Perhaps a fight?”

Ian squinted towards the gods, ears drooping. “I…They don’t look angry at each other. Just really bad at dancing.”

Johnny laughed. “I suppose.”

“Who do we tell first?”

“Ideally Bela, but…I don’t know if that’ll be an issue…”

“Would it hurt?”

Johnny shrugged. “If she found out first, she could, like, telepathically tell everyone.”

“Then we should go to her first.”

They began to weave their way through the crowd, a slow paced feat considering how crowded it was. Johnny would have to tackle Bela for this later.

Johnny was now in earshot of the gods. He couldn’t help but slow down to watch as their dance became more comfortable, almost even intimate.

They seemed to be less tense around one another, tails lifting and beginning to coil around one another. Cirro giggled. Elias giggled, twirled Cirro again. Cirro twirled Elias. They both erupted into laughter, having what looked like a battle of twirls. Maia clapped happily.

Then Johnny bumped straight into Vacante. Damn, she felt like bricks.

“You.”

“Um, hi?”

“What are they doing?”

“Who?”

“Cirro. Elias.” She made it sound as though the words were foreign to her. “What is that?”

“Dancing?”

“That is not the dancing I know. They are very close.”

“I mean, they have known each other a while, I think.”

Vacante shook her head. “In proximity.”

Johnny glanced back at the pair, who were now pressed up against one another, still giggling.

“Maybe they care about one another?”

“Care.” Vacante considered the idea. “That is not just care. Care simply does not look that way.”

“Well, I don’t wanna assume it’s full-on love,” Johnny shrugged. “But it does look like something.”

Vacante hummed, becoming silent. As hard as she was to read, she didn’t quite seem to approve.

“Oh!” Johnny startled Ian with his outburst. “Vacante, would it be alright to talk to Bela right now? It’s urgent.”

“How urgent? She is a busy woman.”

“Uhh…” Johnny thought about it. “Possibly-life-threatening-to-me-and-Ian urgent?”

Vacante tilted her head. “I suppose that is of some urgency.”

“Would you, um, lead the way? Please?”

Vacante gave a single nod, turning on her heel and practically parting the crowd with just her presence. Johnny was secretly happy she was so menacing. He practically looked like a puppy in comparison.

He noticed how well-tailored her suit was. It seemed to fit Bela’s style somehow.

Did she have a say in that?

Did she wrestle Vacante, too?

Johnny sighed as they neared Zerithos again, averting his gaze. He was for sure on that stupid king’s watchlist now.

What worried him more was Ian being on that same list.

Hopefully Bela could propose something to mend this issue.

—

 

Lydia marched down the empty halls, the members of the search party surrounded her. Cleanser took the back, Black Mirror the lead. Oleander stood beside her in the middle, beside Starry Night, Criss Cross and Makeshift.

She wore her usual suit and blouse combo, Oleander had forgone her casual clothes and procured a dark green suit with no undershirt, allowing her dark skin to peek out from under the emerald blazer.

Black Mirror and Cleanser had forgone any formal wear and decided to wear their normal costumes, Black Mirror’s consitied of a mirrored visor hiding his face from view but exposing his fluffy white hair. It contrasted with his dark black bodysuit, sleeveless which showed his vitiligo stained skin.

Metal plated combat boots marked his steps. Cleanser however blended in even with their costume. A long pale flowing dress over top of a white bodysuit with white opera gloves and a long pale yellow viel covering their entire head from view. All one could see of their head was a faint shadow. Stitched onto the veil was an eye, golden and glittering.

Starry Night wore a glittering flapper dress with a few feathers stuck into her diadem headband over brunette hair and darkened skin, meanwhile Criss Cross wore a suit with a flowing cape attacked to their shoulders. Black and white, with crisscrossing patterns on the pants of the outfit. Matching with their pale blonde hair and dark skin.

Makeshift wore a flowing black gown, with a black blazer covering the top. Their long green hair was piled in a bun at the base of their neck, complimenting her outfit beautifully.

The Society marched through the halls, formed tightly like a well oiled machine. Ahead of them laid their biggest challenge. Seperating Belladonna long enough for Cleanser to work their magic. Belladonna was erratic and unpreditable on her best days, on her worst… Black Mirror disregarded the thought. Soon this ‘Bela’ persona would be gone and Belladonna would be back with them.

He could have his lovely niece back once more. He could have her safe and whole and sane.

He would not fail at this mission.

He refused to.

Bela wandered off the balcony, finally finished introducing her family to The Children. As she began her descent down the stairs she was suddenly accosted by calls of her name.

“Bela!”

Unseen the doors opened at this time, and the Society witnessed as Johnny, Ian, and Vacante marched their way over to Bela.

They spotted her.

They moved.

Quickly, and without notice.

Bela turned to face Johnny and smiled widely, spreading her arms to embrace him. He nervously accepted before whispering in her ear.

“Zerithos is here.”

Bela paused her hair flickered and flared like flames before she clamed them down, pulling back she smiled at him.

“Oh!”

Using her telepathy she spoke to him and continued a false conversation to keep the facade.

‘What do you mean Zerithos is here? How did he get here?’

‘Either he was invited..’

‘Or he found out about you and crashed the party.’

Glancing around she took notice of Zerithos, or what she assumed was him, after all the man was twelve feet tall. But either way, she noticed him approaching, clearly trying to not be noticed by her. She let her eyes sweep over him as though he wasn't there and tugged Johnny to the balcony behind her.

Her family, except for Tatiana, remained mostly oblivious to their plight. Alina and Micah stepped into Zerithos’ path and began talking to the man, clearly trying to prevent him from getting to the balcony. He tried many times to excuse himself but as far as Tatiana could tell they had trapped him in a endless loop of conversation.

Tatiana moved back up the balcony, following her sister who was being tailed by Johnny and Ian. She took notice of Jasper talking with a woman who looked scarily similar to him, a relative perhaps. She kept pointing towards the balcony Bela had hidden herself on with an angry expression on her face.

Jasper tried to direct her attention away from the balcony, making various excuses and rambles to attract her attention; she marched her way towards the balcony and found herself disappearing in swirls of liquid shadow. Jasper stood staring at his hands before moving forward towards the balcony clearly alarmed. Rowan followed him, petals falling from his flowers and dropping onto the marble floor. Vacante stood guard at the base of the stairs, looking back at Tatiana and gesturing for her to simply go.

Tatiana made her way up the stairs she found Bela conversing furiously with Johnny and Ian, Rowwan and Jasper bounded their way up the steps moments later. The group, now formed and together once more stood and talked.

“Zerithos is here. Why is he here!”

“Who the hell invited him!”

“Who’s Zerithos?”

“Am I supposed to know that name?”

Tatiana strode forward and hushed the group, she could sense Thea walking up the stairs behind them clearly concerned. She ignored her. She had to calm everyone down, get them to think rationally.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak and order the group to speak in order and maybe explain who this Zerithos character was, all hell broke loose.

A hand stretched out from an invisible space behind Bela reaching forward and grabbing at her hair, at the same time two characters one in a flapper dress and the other in black and white burst onto the balcony. A figure in white and two women stood guard at the balcony and were fighting off Vacante who was far too used to having her Sword of Damnation with her, seeing as she kept reaching for an object that was no longer there.

Bela yelped and jerked forward her hair snapping off into dust from where it had been grabbed and staying cut down to her mid back. It did not retain it’s starry form this time and looked like normal, regular curls. Johnny lunged forward and practically threw Bela behind him and Ian, as the hand merged with an arm and then soon following a body.

A man in a black suit stood before them, Bela gasped and tears built in her eyes. Her emotions projected wildly through the group in waves causing bright blue tears to stream down from their eyes.

“Uncle?”

The man, her uncle, stepped forward ignoring the sounds of fighting behind them as Thea and Tatiana joined together to stop the two women from approaching the group. Rowan and Jasper fought together in perfect sync against the figure in white who moved swiftly dodging each hit and spell that was thrown at them. Now more than ever Rowan wished he had his bombs or potions with him.

Bela’s uncle stepped forward again, hands raised as though in surrender. The mirrors adoring his fingers glinted in the moonlight.

“Belladonna.”

“Don’t call me that, it’s Bela now.” She had tears running her face in steady streams, her voice a deep and rough hiss of sorrow and anger. Clearly she was not happy to see him.

“No, your name is Belladonna, no matter how much you fight me on this, we both know your true name.”

Starry Night approached swiftly, having ducked between Thea and Tatiana's combined efforts, she sprinted forward and threw a bolt of bright light at the trio. Bela shrieked at the light and stumbled back into vitiligo stained arms. They wrapped around her waist and yanked her up into the air. She kicked and yelled, bit and scratched and still Black Mirror did not let go.

Starry Night threw more bolts and blasts of light at the duo of Ian and Johnny, Johnny stumbled and almost fell off the balcony as he hit the railing. His eyes were unfocused, he had nearly been blinded.

Ian ran forward and tackled Starry Night to the floor, regardless of his inability to see from her blasts of light. She screamed as she went down and Ian grabbed her head and slammed it into the ground, shutting her up as she was knocked out.

Quickly he stood up and raced to help Bela, using his shadowed arm to slam his palm into Black Mirror’s visor. The visor cracked under his hit and shattered in a starburst sending bits of glass raining down onto the ground. Behind it one could see that Black Mirror had a dark face with minimal spots, but glassy eyes. He was blind. Ian decided to use this to his advantage. The man wanted to play a disappearing game? So could he.

Dissipating into shadows he ducked up behind Black Mirror and threw his weight into the other man, Bela wrestled out of his now weakened hold as he fell and vanished in a mist of blue. Appearing on the other side of the balcony with a now ruined and rumpled dress and short hair, she held nothing but contempt in her eyes.

If there was one thing Ian was sure of in that moment it’s that he never wanted to be on the other side of that gaze.

Thea rushed towards Bela, Criss Cross now downed on the floor beside Starry Night who was slowly stirring. Cleanser along with Lydia stood beside Oleander helping her fight against a slowly tiring Vacante. Jasper and Rowan lay knocked out of the floor, hands tangled together as they lay beside each other.

Cleanser had gotten to them.

Bela looked around, hissed and yelled under her breath various obscenities. Teleporting she grabbed jasper and Rowan and dissipated once more to Johnny’s side. Laying the two men beside Johnny she grabbed Ian from his fight with Black Mirror, which he had been winning, and teleported him beside a still blinded Johnny.

Lydia seemed to catch onto her idea and tried to rush forward desperation painting her face.

She vanished in a split second and grabbed both Thea and Tatiana in quick succession.

Bringing the group back together once more she yelled out a quick question.

“Y’all ready?”

She waited for no response.

“Good, now let’s go!”

The floor dropped out from under them, a blue swirling portal filled with various objects and timelines and lives flashed before them as they fell.

—

Oleander ran forward, time slowing around her as she pushed magic into her entire body. Chrono magic.

Time, under her command.

She ran forward, she grasped desperately at the starry blanket of hair.

Just a little more, just a bit farther, just a bit-

Lydia stood frozen off to the side, desperate for her godchild to stop running, to stop hiding from her.

Black Mirror, Abi, stood off to the side looking in the vague direction of where Belladonna’s portal lay. He just wanted his niece back. The way she used to be. Before she became, before she became this.

Her hands were before her, grasping at empty air, her fingertips brushing curls. Dark.

Her childhood, framed by those dark curls. Haunted.

—

“Tati.” The voice was soft, gentle and tearstained.

Tatiana turned around in her bed, it was small, like her. Her sister stood before her, Belladonna. Smaller than her. Quiet, gentle, breakable.

Tatiana worried for her incessantly.

“Wha-” Her words were sleep slurred and cut off by Belladonna lunging into her covered arms, crying terribly soft. As though the sound of her own existence startled her.

“I had a nightmare.” She whined into Tatiana’s blanket, Tatiana sat up and gently wrapped her arms around Belladonna’s head allowing her sister to rest comfortably in her embrace.

“What was it about?”

“You left me.” There was a bit of accusation in her voice, tatiana pretended it didn't sting.

“Why did I leave you?”

“You said you had to, that you had no choice.”

Tatiana hummed under her breath and bundled her sister close.

“I'll never leave you Ivy, promise.”

“You swear, pinky promise?’

“Pinky promise.”

They linked hands and Belladonna soon fell asleep on her sister, who bundled her under the covers of her bed and sat at attention the rest of the night waiting for nightmares.

She could be Belladonna’s shield.

Maybe this way she could protect her, save her from the demons in her head.

After all what else are big sisters for?

—
Johnny tumbled to a halt above an open plain of houses, the houses were decorated as though they were stuck in the cities. Despite the rows upon rows of houses and the obvious fact this was a large city, the place was desolate. A ghost town.

He spotted a large lab in the distance, near the town square.

Relization hit him right over the head.

This was Bela’s world.

This was where the Plastics had resided.

Had they vanished, were they gone now?

So many questions, so little time.

Quickly he stood up and took stock of his surroundings, he could see various bodies scattered around him.

Tatiana groaned as she sat up, the impact of the grassy ground had hurt after all.

Almost twenty feet away was Ian, Jasper a few more feet from him. The group had been separated in their fall. Rowan, Bela, and Thea were nowhere to be seen as of now. Johnny felt a terrible panic, what if that group had gotten to Bela, but he could feel something reach out towards his mind and he relaxed.

Bela.

It was her.

The feeling left almost as quickly as it came but it allowed him to know she was also here, in this world, she had to be nearby.

Walking swiftly to Tatiana, he helped the other woman up.

“Can you go find everyone? Just run around and get them all here?”

Tatiana nodded resolutely, clearly she was just as anxious as he was over not seeing her sister nearby.

In a swift gust of wind she was gone, and in nearly seconds she was back.

“She's not here.”

“What do you mean she’s not here?!”

“Bela.”

“She’s gone.”

—

Chapter 33: Thirty Three

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Belladonna woke slowly, she lay in a hospital bed. It was a light room, pale yellow and warm. 

Abi, her uncle, sat at her side. He shot his head up from it’s bowed state as she stirred.

 

“Careful now, child. Rest.” 

 

Belladonna nodded off before he finished his statement, too tired for words. 

 

—

 

Belladonna woke once more, she was no longer in the hospital bed. It was warm and sunny in the room. Blue drapes rested over the window. 

 

Oh.

 

She remembered.

 

This was her room.

 

Yes.

 

How could she forget, how silly of her. 

 

She sat up carefully, groaning as she stretched. Oleander opened her door and peeked in, a smile on her face. Gentle and soft. 

 

Was Belladonna expecting a different kind of smile?

 

For a second she imagined her with a quick and sharp grin, it seemed familiar but the memory evaded her. Her sister had never smiled like that, nevertheless at her of all people. That was a smile that spoke of mischief and Belladonna could never recall her sister being mischievous. 

 

Oleander stood and opened the door further.

 

“Abi is preparing breakfast, we’ll be meeting Lydia soon.” 

 

Belladonna smiled and lifted herself from her bed, her dark blue nightshirt and black shorts adorned her body. The blue sheets reflected in the yellow sunlight.

 

Such a beautiful yellow, almost gold.

 

Gold like-

 

Like what? 

 

Belladonna shook the thoughts off and moved towards her closet calling out to Oleander behind her.

 

“Let me get dressed and I’ll join you.” 

 

Oleander nodded and closed the oak door behind her. Belladonna’s room was covered in posters of various bands, bands like the one that adorned her shirt. She placed an off the shoulder cropped tshirt on, over top of her fishnet gloves. 

 

Fumbling with her belts, as she usually did, she finally got the two of them layered over her black flared jeans. 

 

Forgoing her sneakers until it was time to leave, she bounded down the large stairs into the open foyer. A tea table stood nearby.

 

Belladonna strangely wanted to sit there, but she had never been a fan of tea so she had no reason to sit there whatsoever. 

 

She moved towards the dining room, large and welcoming. Everything about the house was welcoming, unlike-

 

Unlike what?

 

Unlike before.

 

Before what?

 

…

 

Belladonna shook the strange thoughts away, there was no time to be dwelling on the past. Abi had told her ever since her well, kidnapping, that most of memories had been locked away due to trauma. A coping mechanism he had called it. A hassle Belladonna had decided. 

 

Sitting at the dining table, Oleander beside her and Abi across from her. The table felt empty somehow she kept expecting to turn and see Vacante or Thea.

 

Wait-

 

Who-

 

Thea-

 

Vacante-

 

HELP!

 

—

 

Belladonna didn't remember much of breakfast, apparently she had an episode caused by the choice of their breakfast. Damn trauma triggers and all that Abi had said. He seemed terribly shaken, Belladonna wanted to apologize but he insisted it wasn;t her fault, that it was the fault of that group who had kidnapped her. 

 

Belladonna walked down the halls, her sneakers made no sound against the metal flooring of the Hero Society’s base. She continued until she reached Lydia’s office. She had something she needed to discuss with her god mother. 

 

Cleanser stayed at her side though it all, a supervisor to make sure her episodes wouldn't harm her, Abi had said. Belladonna had gone along with it though she thought it was rather over the top. But then again, she had been kidnapped and apparently brainwashed. 

 

She opened the metal door to Lydia’s workshop. It was filled and piled with books of all kinds. Tomes and magical spellbooks galore. Lydia stood before her, back turned. She moved into the room and called out for her.

 

“Godmother.” 

 

Lydia turned around, surprised but clearly happy to see belladonna. She frowned at the sight of Cleanser trailing behind her. 

 

“Darling child, what are you here for?” 

 

“I wanted to ask you something, something maybe bad…” 

 

“Well whatever it is, I will listen.” 

 

“Those people that kidnapped me, could I possibly find them, bring them to justice?” 

 

Lydia wents silent and clearly did not want to answer her question but she was weak to her children and so she answered. 

 

“Yes, you could. But I’d advise not to, after all, we don’t even know where they could be.” 

 

“But I know where they are.” 

 

Lydia was shocked, did Cleanser’s mind wipe not work correctly, she saw Cleanser approach Belladonna from behind. Hands glowing with power. Just before Cleanser could reach her Belladonna spoke up. 

 

“Their minds left an imprint, I can sense them.” Cleanser stood stock still behind Belladona, looking at Lydia in veiled shock. 

 

“Especially one of them, I believe his name is..”

 

“JOHNNY!” 

 

Belladonna shook her mind free of the flash of a faint memory, she stuttered her next sentence.

 

“Johnny, his name is Johnny. And the other is- is…”

 

She furrowed her brow.

 

“Rowan.” 

 

Belladonna looked up at Lydia, contempt and rage behind her eyes. She felt mixed emotions at these people and the thought of all the love she felt at them made her angrier. How dare they mold her into something she wasn't. How dare they make her into a false idol. 

 

“Lydia, when I find them, I want them to pay. Is that wrong of me?” 

 

Lydia looked at her, horror and fear on her face. Belladonna stared back, defiant and angry. In the end it was Cleanser that stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the back of her nape.

 

“Child, I believe none of us would stop you if you felt you had to kill them, the question remains is that what would bring you justice?” 

 

Belladonna did not hesitate with her answer.

 

“Yes.”

 

—

Johnny was frantic. Where was she?

 

Tatiana had gathered everyone she could, but there was no sign of Bela.

 

Did they get to her?

 

No, surely not. He felt her.

 

Tatiana had told him everything was empty where she had looked while searching for the group. Why weren’t the Plastics here?

 

He supposed it was probably for the best. They wouldn’t have to be found while weaving through crowds of people.

 

“Rowan? You okay?”

 

Rowan did not seem okay. In fact, he didn’t seem to recognize Johnny at all.

 

Oh no.

 

“How do you know my name?!”

 

“Rowan, calm down—”

 

“I’m scared!”

 

“I know,” Johnny tried to ease his worries, speaking softly. “We’re gonna protect you, okay?”

 

“ From what?! ”

 

“Well, uh…We don’t exactly know what happened to you, but we need to get your memory working again.”

 

“My memory?”

 

Johnny scanned Rowan, then Jasper. They both had that same clueless look.

 

“Do you know him?” Johnny pointed to Jasper, horrified as Rowan shook his head. 

 

“He’s kinda hot, though.”

 

Jasper furrowed his brow. “I’m right here.”

 

“And you’re hot. We should kiss.”

 

“No way! I don’t even know you!”

 

Rowan laughed as Jasper playfully shoved him off. It seemed they still had some chemistry despite the memory loss. 

 

Johnny sighed, turning his attention to Thea.

 

“Do you have any idea what that was about?!”

 

“They looked like family,” Thea said. “But that couldn’t be right…”

 

“Why not?”

 

“One of them looked like her sister. But as you can see…”

 

Thea gave Tatiana an almost mournful look.

 

“She’s right here.”

 

“Maybe from another dimension?”

 

“Perhaps, but which one?”

 

“They wouldn’t go after her for no reason,” Ian chimed in. “They clearly wanted her for something.”

 

“She’s gone to so many dimensions,” Johnny sighed, “I don’t even know if they’re part of that issue or not.”

 

“They must’ve kidnapped her. She’s not here.”

 

“But I felt her!”

 

“So did I!”

 

“Felt who?!”

 

“She can do that from anywhere, surely!”

 

“Has she done that before?”

 

“I don’t know, I’ve always been near her!”

 

The group fell silent, spare frustrated grunts and hums. 

 

“She has to be nearby, I just know it!”

 

“How near?”

 

“I don’t know!” Johnny was starting to get overstimulated. All the questions made sound grating to his ears, the sun was too damn bright, these fucking clothes .

 

He tried to take off his outer layers, but they just reappeared on him moments later.

 

“The gala’s still going on.” Johnny slumped to the ground. “It’s so hot…I don’t wanna be here.”

 

“Johnny?”

 

“Please stop talking.”

 

Thea exchanged glances with Ian, partly out of confusion.

 

“Is he…shutting down or something?” she whispered.

 

“In a way,” Ian whispered back, shrugging. “He’s autistic, it happens sometimes.”

 

Ian knelt towards Johnny, pulling him into his embrace. Johnny almost seemed limp. He felt warm, the poor thing must have been stifling under the sun. Even Ian seemed more well equipped.

 

“We’ll find her, okay?” Ian began to stroke Johnny’s hair, and he nodded weakly against the taller man’s chest. “She’ll turn up, and we’ll sort this out like we always do.”

 

A zaplike sound pierced through the air, and Johnny stiffened, collapsing from electrocution. Ian grabbed him, jumping back. So suddenly, what the hell was that?

 

“You can’t run away from me,” Bela shouted. Bela?!

 

Ian looked down at Johnny. He was breathing all wrong, his heartbeat wasn’t right. Was she trying to kill—

 

He narrowly dodged another bright shock of electricity, trying to now keep both him and Johnny alive.

 

This could not be happening right now.

 

Rowan clung to Jasper, screaming about how they were gonna die and who the fuck is this woman, is she crazy I think she’s crazy, and rambling on in a panic. Thea tried to shield them as best she could from Bela’s craze, but they were too frantic to keep still.

 

That other person with Bela…

 

Who was that?

 

“A little help here, Cleanser?! Subdue them, something!”

 

Their hands began to glow. Thea recognized that glow from when they’d gotten to Rowan and Jasper.

 

“Don’t let them touch you! They’ll wipe your memories!”

 

Tatiana groaned in frustration. “Bela, what the fuck?!”

 

“Don’t you dare! You all kidnapped me!”

 

“What the fu–Bela! What are you talking about?!”

 

“You know what you did!”

 

Thea took notice of Ian setting Johnny down. He seemed to have healed.

 

“Songbird! What are you saying?!”

 

Bela seemed to waver for a moment at the name. Her eyes flashed with what looked like longing. Grief. 

 

She wasn’t too far. Thea knew it.

 

She softened her voice as she approached her wife. 

 

“Please, answer me. Why are you doing this?”

 

Bela took a step back. “Don’t you try anything on me.”

 

“I won’t. I just want to understand.”

 

Here she was, before her wife. Bela’s eyes were seeking, desperate, angry, grief-stricken. 

 

“You kidnapped me. Forced me to love you, brainwashed me into caring.”

 

Thea shot a horrified glance at Cleanser, who stood close to Bela. Too close.

 

“Can I ask you something…Belladonna?”

 

Bela cocked her head. “Spit it out.”

 

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

 

“They told me what you did!”

 

“But…” Thea sighed. “If you truly were brainwashed, surely you’d remember what happened. Surely you’d come to that conclusion on your own.”

 

Bela furrowed her brow, eyes darting frantically as she assessed the situation. She gasped with realization, and Cleanser’s hands immediately went to her temples.

 

“Stay away from her,” they growled, reaching towards Thea. “Not an inch closer!”

 

“You know what you’re doing is wrong,” Thea screamed. “Give her back!”

 

Bela woke up with a start, sending Thea flying with a wave of magic.

 

“Bela, please! Get away from Cleanser!”

 

Bela’s crazed eyes landed right on Johnny. It almost reminded him of their fight in the dungeons.

 

Oh, how he wished he had an anesthetic right now.

 

He tried to approach her. 

 

Tried.

 

Hands landed on either side of his head. It felt like his brain was liquid—

 

Where am I?

 

Why’s there so much screaming?

 

Who’s this woman?

 

“ You . You don’t get the privilege of forgetting.”

 

Forgetting what?

 

What’s happening?

 

It’s so hot . So bright.

 

“ You will remember me. You all will remember what you’ve done. ”

 

With a slam, the memories…Oh god.

 

The memories—

 

Johnny hyperventilated as he was overrun with the memories flooding his mind. Bela was on top of him, his collar bunched in her hands as she slammed him repeatedly into the ground. 

 

“You– slam – know– slam – what– slam – you– slam – did!” She began to claw her way through Johnny’s shirt, realizing he was delirious from the repeated impact.

 

Johnny’s vision wavered intensely. He felt an oddly dull pain in his chest, then something different.

 

Something he felt with Ian.

 

He struggled to look down, seeing a smoky, glowing mass of golden light being stretched from the hole in his chest into Bela’s hand.

 

The soul. She can extract the soul .

 

Ian tackled Bela, having come to a similar realization. Like elastic, Johnny’s soul bounced back into his body with a sharp stab. He groaned, startling as he heard Ian’s voice become animalistic.

 

Right. He was protecting him. Soul eaters protect their food.

 

“We gotta get out of here!” Tatiana screamed. “We can’t deal with her like this!”

 

“I don’t wanna die! This is the second time she’s done this!”

 

“Rowan, we’re gonna figure it out!”

 

“Ian! Get off of her!”

 

“Someone get Ian!”

 

“What?! For us to be his next meal?! No way!”

 

“Ugh, Johnny!”

 

“Okay, okay!”

 

Ignoring how feral Ian was, Johnny dragged him away from Bela, throwing him towards Tatiana.

 

“Take him! We gotta go!”

 

Strong gusts of wind circled the group as Tatiana transferred them one by one, Johnny being last.

 

What was once a stifling suit was now the only comfort he had in the brash cold.

 

Rowan was shivering like crazy, knee-deep in snow. Ian picked him up by the shirt, practically cradling him as his shadows covered Rowan’s body. Johnny recognized the gesture from their childhood. Those shadows were surprisingly warm.

 

“Your species doesn’t take this well, huh?”

 

“S-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-u-u-u-u-t u-u-u-up.”

 

“He was never good with the cold.” Jasper patted Rowan on his mushroom cap. “A light breeze, and he’s shivering.”

 

Rowan groaned, clearly embarrassed. Johnny was just happy everyone’s memories were intact.

 

Well, he’d be happier if Bela’s were, too.

 

What were they going to do? This clearly wasn’t something anesthesia would fix.

 

“We have to keep evading,” Thea announced. “As long as Cleanser is with her, we’re never gonna have a shot at retrieving her memories. They’ll just erase them every time.”

 

“But how are we supposed to separate them? We can’t just be chased around until we die!”

 

“We’ll have to fight eventually.”

 

“Yes,” Thea sighed. “But we need to strategize first.”

 

“About what?”

Thea jumped at the sound of Bela’s voice in her ear. 

 

“I’m not letting you all use me again.”

 

“We never used you!”

 

“Liar!” Her hands began to pulse with magic. “You all used me! Made me care! Betrayed me!”

 

“We did no such thing! We love you, Bela!”

 

“Enough!”

 

Bela thrust her hands towards the group. A powerful shockwave of magic rippled through the air. Lights flickered in their vision, sounds morphed and distorted.

 

And yet again, they were somewhere new.

 

Somewhere old to Johnny.

 

“What the fuck is this?!”

 

Johnny shot up. They were in front of one of Hell’s portals.

 

He knew this portal. He’d been through that portal.

 

“This is,” Johnny’s voice shook. “My old world.”

 

—

 

My wife.

 

Where is she?

 

The ballroom clamors. Whispers. Gossips .

 

How infuriating. Such a disaster is a mere spectacle to them.

 

I must amend this.

 

I ascend the stairs. My steps are heavy with fury. I know fury well. I have lived it for eons.

 

I will not live it a moment longer.

 

—

 

She’s at the top of the stairs. She looks pissed.

 

“Cirro, what do you think she’s gonna…?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“ Cease your chatter. ”

 

Vacante’s enraged voice echoes through the ballroom, silencing all within it. 

 

“ This Solstice has been tainted by unsightly vermin who dare harm the Queen and her consort. I implore you to leave immediately. ”

 

Some hesitate, but most begin to leave in droves, fearful of Vacante’s wrath. 

 

“Maia, what do you say we book it?”

 

“Cirro, do you think she needs assistance?”

 

“What? She’s clearly upset!”

 

“Exactly, perhaps she needs comfort.”

I look up at the stairs, noticing she’s not there anymore.

 

“You three. Stay.”

 

Oh no.

 

I turn around, and Vacante’s glaring at me like I’m the one who stole her wife. She unsheaths her sw–

 

When did she get that?!

 

She couldn’t have left to retrieve the sword that quickly, right?

 

The ballroom grows quiet with emptiness after a few moments. Now it’s Vacante, Cirro, Maia, and I. 

 

“Explain yourselves.”

 

“E-explain what?”

 

Her sword is now pointed right at Cirro. This feels oddly like the Trials, for some reason.

 

“Your ever-growing intimacy with Destruction tonight. Explain, Creation.”

 

Destruction? Creation? Why is she talking like that?

 

Intimacy?

 

“We-we were just dancing—”

 

“Lies. I know what just dancing looks like. There was intimacy in your movements. Both of you.”

 

“What’s the harm in it?” Maia pleads. “Surely a little dance isn’t—”

 

“You are Gods . Your duties take all priority.” Vacante’s eyes dart to Maia. “Did you perpetrate this?”

 

“I don’t understand!”

 

One look away, and she’d already disregarded her.

 

Now that look is on me.

 

“Destruction.”

 

“Why are you talking like that?!”

 

Her eyes narrow. “You know me well. Cease the stupidity. Or did your Trial take your intelligence from you?”

 

How would she know about the…

 

No.

 

Oh no.

 

“Void?”

 

“I suppose you have some semblance of intelligence left, Destruction. Now explain yourselves.”

 

I look at Cirro, who’s practically a mirror reflecting my terrified emotions.

 

“What did we do wrong?”

 

“I see your intimacy budding. Even the other mortals see it. Your body language speaks it.”

 

“W-what are you saying?”

 

“Do not be coy with me. You feel for Destruction in ways you should not.”

 

What?

 

“Cirro, she’s kidding, right?”

 

Cirro takes a moment too long to meet my eyes. His tail droops. His eyes, that same look from that night…

 

Oh no.

 

Please, no.

 

“I’m sorry, Eli,” he mutters shamefully. It makes my heart drop.

 

“Destruction. Admit it.”

 

I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to keep us both safe.

 

But Maia seemed so happy, seeing us get along.

 

And Cirro felt so nice to dance with. 

 

And that smile…

 

My body becomes heavy as I realize my mistake. I should have never even touched Cirro. That dance was a trap.

 

“I…I’m sorry.”

 

“You will be punished for your transgressions.” Her sword lifts into the air, aimed right at me —

 

“Wait!”

 

Cirro. His hand cuffed around hers, trying to stop the sword from hitting me.

 

Why?

 

“You can’t do this!” Cirro grunts, straining against Vacante’s strength. 

 

“And why should I not?”

 

“Have you never loved someone?!”

 

“Your duty is not to love, it is to create.”

 

“People who love always create! I can’t help it!”

 

“Elaborate.” She snatches her arms out of Cirro’s grasp.

 

“Creation always has some sort of passion behind it! Come on, you see it all the time!”

 

“Not a good enough argument.”

 

“If you love something enough, you’d create anything you could to nurture it!”

 

Vacante hums, turning her attention back to me.

 

“You cannot create. What is your excuse?”

 

I can’t help but get hot with anger. An excuse, like this is something wrong.

 

“If you love something enough, you’d destroy anything you could to protect it.”

 

She seems to consider our answers carefully. 

 

“Your jobs do not coincide, nor do your answers. You would simply be removing all of the work the other has painstakingly done.”

 

“But I can’t work without Cirro.”

 

“Creation does not need Destruction to flourish.”

 

“Then the Fabric doesn’t need the Void to guard it!”

 

Her face contorts into one of fury, one I have never seen before. One that strangely assures me that she, too, can falter. Be a little more like humans.

 

“ You have spat enough drivel. Know your place. ”

 

Her sword cuts through the air, making my heart drop as it strikes Cirro despite his attempt at evasion. 

 

No blood comes off of him.

 

But his hair.

 

No.

 

No.

 

Wisps of golden strands are strewn all around Cirro. He looks back at what he has left, holding it in shock.

 

It was once able to touch the ground. To connect his head with the very ground he meticulously gifted the world.

 

Now it grazes his hips, jagged and wrong.

 

She’s lifting her sword again.

 

Is she aiming to kill?

 

My heart skips a beat as he dodges yet another slice. 

 

“You’re a fucking hypocrite!” Cirro cries. “Why does it matter what we do?!”

 

“ It is not your job! ” 

 

Another dodged attack. He’s barely keeping up with them, stumbling around and getting away with mere inches to spare.

 

“It’s not your job, either!” A kick sends him tumbling on the marble floor. 

 

I can’t feel my legs. I can’t feel anything but terror.

 

Just like back then.

 

Why am I freezing? I already made this mistake with Maia.

 

I already ruined someone’s life.

 

I destroyed it.

 

“ You do not deserve the intimacy of your extra appendages. ” She grabs his tail before he can crawl away, making him wince at the harshness of her grip. “ This should serve as a reminder. You. Do. Not. Deserve. Intimacy. It is not your job. ”

 

“You don’t deserve your wife !” Cirro screams. “You don’t deserve her, or that human Thea, or anything! If they knew you were fucking ruining our lives for doing what you do, they’d hate you! ”

 

Cirro yanks his tail away from her. Vacante freezes, arms falling to her sides. Sword clattering to the ground.

 

One moment he’s there, and the next he’s in my face.

 

“Eli? Eli, don’t cry.”

 

Cry?

 

I’m crying?

 

“He’s okay, he’s just shaken up. Not dead.”

 

“Eli?”

 

I can somewhat feel him shaking me. He’s so pretty.

 

His hair.

 

Because of me.

 

“C’mon, Truffle, it’s okay. Everyone’s fine.”

 

Are we?

 

“Eli, please look at me.”

 

If I hadn’t danced with him.

 

If I’d just left him alone.

 

If I told him to get out of my room that night. Brush his own hair.

 

It wouldn’t have been ruined.

 

My touch wouldn’t have destroyed it.

 

“He’s crying so bad, oh goodness.”

 

His hands on my face. 

 

A grunt. Frustration.

 

His lips.

 

On mine .

 

Wait.

 

I can’t breathe.

 

His kiss is so forceful. So bruising.

 

It feels like I’m kissing the sun. 

 

His hands. They’re brushing away my tears.

 

I don’t deserve this.

 

Cirro, please don’t kiss me.

 

Don’t love me.

 

It’ll ruin you.

 

—

 

If they knew you were ruining people’s lives

 

For what you do

 

They’d hate you.

 

For what I do?

 

They couldn’t possibly

 

But they could.

 

Thea. She is no God.

 

Yet, I treat her as though she is above them.

 

You don’t deserve your wife.

 

Would she hate me? My Universe, my Existence. Would she hate me?

Our Children. Would they hate me?

 

An odd sensation builds in my throat. I know I have not been poisoned, what…

 

Drip.

 

Drop.

 

Drip.

 

Drop.

 

These.

 

These are tears.

 

Tears from my own eyes.

 

A hatred. A hatred all-consuming. 

 

Why?

 

I am weeping. I have never wept before.

 

My wife. My Queen.

 

Two beautiful women. Would they hate me?

 

Creation. The very tail I dared to amputate, coiled tightly around Destruction’s own.

 

My own wings, furled around my love.

 

His lips pressed to his opposite.

 

Mine pressed to the Fabric.

 

His affections removing the tears from his face.

 

Just as I had done.

 

Just as I thought I had deserved.

 

Just as I thought they did not.

 

My wife. My Queen. My Warrior, my love, everything I have prioritized as my purpose.

 

If they discarded me…

 

My howls echo through the ballroom. 

 

Is this what humans do? 

 

Why does it feel so odd? So terrible?

 

Why do I feel so intensely?

 

—

 

My kiss seems to work, snapping Elias back into reality.

 

But his eyes don’t meet mine. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Please don’t let me touch you any more.”

 

“W-what do you mean?”

 

More tears begin to fall. I wipe them away as they come.

 

“It’s okay if you do, you know–”

 

“No. it isn’t.”

 

“Why not? Isn’t that what you want?”

 

His eyes. Stormy and pained.

 

“I touched Maia’s wings. Her wings were ripped off. I touched your hair. It was chopped off. If I touch you …” Inky tears stain his face like stardust. “I don’t want to destroy everything, Cirro. Please.”

 

Despite his words, his tail is so tightly woven with mine. I can hardly believe this is what he thinks.

 

But the way he’s crying, pushing my hands away and flinching at his own initiated contact…

 

I cover his ears as Vacante screams in grief, pressing our heads together. Even after insisting, he still caves and lets me, leaning into my touch.

 

“You’ll come around,” I whisper. Feels like reassurance for me .

 

You have to, Eli.

 

—

 

Chapter 34: Thirty Four

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

 

Laughter.

 

Shadow children raced past her, where was she?

 

Dreaming?

 

Was this what dreaming was like?

 

She had never dreamed before.

 

She had no need to dream, to dream was a human thing.

 

“Silly, you are human now.” 

 

“No, I cannot be, I am Nothing. I am The Absence.”

 

“Not right now, now you are simply and terribly human.” 

 

“...”

 

“Nothing to say? That’s alright I can talk enough for two!” 

 

The woman laughed, she was juggling something suspiciously shaped like a heart.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Silly! You know me.” 

 

“I have never seen such a person as you before.”

 

“That’s because I’m not a person, I’m just an Aspect.” 

 

Clown makeup, a puffy collar, curled ponytail and bobbles attached to a looping and colorful chain belt. 

 

“An Aspect of what?” 

 

The woman laughed and continued to juggle.

 

“Stop that.”

 

“Why, you have no power here.” 

 

“...”

 

“Have you figured it out yet?”

 

“Figured what out?”

 

A large skirt of ruffles, a corset of colorful strings and pearls, tall tall heels laced with sillybands.

 

“Someone’s in danger….”

 

“Who?”

 

“You know who.”

 

“...”

 

“Oh!”

 

The woman stopped juggling, the hearts fell to the floor and shattered in colorful ceramics. Blood oozed from them ominously, the shadow children shrieked. 

 

“You don't know?” 

 

“How funny!”

 

The woman laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed

                                      And

                                                                                    L

                                               A

                                                 U

                                                    G

                                                       H

                                                          E

                                                             D

 

—

 

Blood like rain.

 

Warm, wet, staining.

 

Your hands will never be clean.

—

 

A mask, a large smile, three eyes, all watching her.

 

Smile Wide!

 

A flash, a picture.

 

More flashes, more pictures.

 

A white dress, bloodied and torn.

 

Where was she?

 

What was she?

 

A weapon.

 

A child.

 

A woman.

 

A martyr.

 

A sacrifice.

 

A vessel.

 

Not a person.

 

Never a person.

 

Never. 

 

—

 

Belladonna woke as she usually did.

 

She got dressed as she usually did.

 

She ate as she usually did.

 

She trained as she usually did.

 

She did not remember, as she usually did.

 

—

 

Morana was not happy.

 

That damned Hero Society had brought Belladonna back. Her plan wouldn't work as long as she was here. Belladonna was supposed to be living up her life in that other dimension, allowing Morana the peace to freeze this world and bring it to an eternal winter.

 

She was not supposed to be back here. 

 

Morana huffed and then she sighed, soon, soon, soon, soon.

 

How many ‘soons’ would she have to wait for?

 

She wanted her empire now. 

 

Well if there’s one thing they say, if you want something done right…

 

You do it yourself. 

 

—

 

Just as Johnny had originated the group enough to gain order in their chaos, the floor dropped from under them again.

 

A portal.

 

Again.

 

Johnny groaned as he fell down, how many of these damn things was he going to deal with today?!

 

Worlds raced past them.

 

A world where the war never happened, a world that looked scarily similar for Rowan’s tastes.

 

A version of Johnny covered in blood, one wearing a crown, another with short hair, another in a lab coat, another in a long cloak, one covered in bones, another in a grave, and one that remained soulless. 

 

A version of Jasper. Normal, without his shadowed appearance. Another with a curved blade for arms, a chain on his neck; one underwater, drowning; another on fire, burning. One with fangs and a glass of blood, another having dinner with Rowan, a bottle of wine nearby. One made entirely of light, shining and happy. Another of shadow, dark and dangerous.

 

Versions of Rowan flitted by his eyes. One with a malicious smile and covered in soot, another reaching for their cap, releasing the toxins; one in the Queen’s army, another on the run, one with long hair and freezing, another with short hair and drowning. One with fangs and another with a jellyfish for a mush.

 

Visions of lives Ian would not yet live and maybe never meet flash by. A world where he never met Johnny, one where he never joined the War and went on the run, one where he drank blood rather than feasting on souls, one where he was stitched together an amalgamation of body parts. One where he gave into his Sin and never recovered, one where he was an angel, one where he fought Johnny, one where he killed Johnny. 

 

Tatiana looked at a version of herself, trapped in endless loops of time. An oroborus of all her past mistakes. Trying to save her sister; failing. Trying to save her family; failing. Trying to save her lover; failing. Trying to save anyone; f a i l i n g.

 

Thea glared at her reflections as they raced past her in icy mirrors. The portal was cold, a winter blizzard, so unlike Bela’s warmth and electricity. A version of her where she failed to leave the Underworld, wailing at the shores for her lost love and life. A version where she never met bela and lived. A version where she never met Bela and died. A version where she died and came back, drinking blood to survive, dying by the hands of Helios. A version where Bela killed her, one where Bela watched her die. Another where they lived past their first date, and one where they never made it to their wedding. 

 

Screams echoed in their ears, ringing, despairing and wailing. 

 

Theirs or someone else’s? No one could tell. 

 

The floor rushed up to meet them, pristine and marble white. They hovered above it, snowflakes drifted down over their heads and the portal was gone as though it was never there in the first place. 

 

Lifting his head Johnny found himself face to face with-

 

“Anastasia?” 

 

Anastasia curled her lips into a cheshire grin, her Glasgow scars stretching with the force.

 

“Morana. Actually.”

 

It was only then Johnny noticed the ice blue of her eyes, the frosted patterns creeping and curling down her red hair. Her skin was tinged purple, pale and near frostbitten.

 

“Morana. What’s going on?” 

 

Morana’s magic dropped them and they all hit the floor, quickly the group scrambled to their feet. Thea bowed her head at Morana, catching another cheshire grin from the woman.

 

“At least one of you has manners. It’s terribly rude to greet a goddess in the way you lot have.” 

 

Quickly the group bowed their heads, Johnny did not, instead he stared rather definitely, rage bubbling in his chest at the woman towering over him. She was thin, willowy, she looked as though a strong breeze could shove her down. And yet, she stood tall, proud even. 

 

“Morana.”

 

The woman looked at him, eyes narrowed. His face had shown a rage, an impatience that had yet to be seen before. Any time she had seen him he had been rather clam, if not looking shocked most of the time, but now..

 

He had murderous intent radiating off of him, she could sense it. 

 

She smiled, perfect for her plan.

 

“I have a, let’s say, a deal for you.” 

 

She held out a hand, her arm long and covered in expensive furs. Mink and fox. 

 

“I have a way,” Her eyes sparkled terribly as she leaned down and looked directly into Johnny’s darkened eyes, “to get Bela back.” 

 

—

 

Morana’s plan was simple: take a vial of her magic, throw it at Bela’s and freeze her long enough to jog her memory and let Bela’s magic do the rest. 

 

Well at least, that’s what she said. Thea didnt think it’d be as simple as the woman described it being. After all, they’d have to take out anyone near Bela and Bela herself before they could freeze her. 

 

But once all was said and done Morana asked that all they do in return for this precious vial was to stay away. Morana didn't want to see them ever again in this world, and quite frankly, Thea didn't want to see her again either.

 

The woman was not only a piece of work but she kept making odd remarks about Bela, remarks Thea wasn't too fond of. 

 

Thea stood in the foyer of the manor, awaiting Johnny and Ian’s arrival. They had gone off to talk to Morana priestly, maybe they were trying to grill her for more information? Thea didnt care, all she cared about was getting to her wife again. She knew Bela was still there, somehow, she could get to her. 

 

She just had to play her cards right, and if there was one thing Thea knew how to do, it was how to play her cards. Being Queen of the Reformed World didn’t come with being a good strategist after all. Thea had a plan, a backup plan, and a back up to said backup plan. She just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

 

She looked down at her sword, strapped to her belt, she truly hoped it wouldn't come to that at all. 

 

—

 

Belladonna walked down the large stairs that led to the basement of her uncle’s manor. It was late at night, nearly the witching hour. She didn't know why that hour seemed so important to her, she shoved it aside with all the other things she didn't know. 

 

It sat there among the questioning feeling that there should be two bodies lying beside her in bed; she had never had any partners before.

 

Or that feeling she should look into paganism, contact her Lady Hecate; she had been a devout Christian all her life. 

 

It sat there with the reminders of laughter at the breakfast table; it was silent there after her parents death.

 

Or the remembrance of a large and grandiose ball; she had never been to a ball in her life. 

 

The memories of bug-like wings, teaching someone to fly in the air and soar with her and her own wings; she had never had wings and she had never been very good at levitation enough to fly. 

 

In the end she chalked it all up to the same thing.

 

Dreams.

 

It had to be dreams.

 

She didn't know what she would do if they weren't. 

 

As she arrived at her Uncle’s study she opened the large oak doors slowly, and peeked her head through. She wore her usual sleeping attire, despite the urge to switch to a dress, her sleep shirt of Slipknot and her running shorts. 

 

Her Uncle sat before her, head in his hands as he muttered incoherently.

 

"Why isn’t it working?”

 

“This was supposed to fix her…”

 

“Is she just…”

 

“Uncle?”

 

Abi’s head shot up and his milky iris searched for the origin of her voice, she stepped into the study and let the door close behind her.

 

He smiled at her and gestured forward for her to come closer. 

 

Why does it feel like she just walked into a spider’s web?

 

She walked over to Abi’s chair and sat down on the desk, like she used to when she was a child. She still felt small beside him, he was just so… intimidating. 

 

He patted her knee, gentle, his face was lined with stress. She placed her hand overtop of his, there were chipped remnants of red nail polish on them. She ignored the pain in her head from seeing it. She knew that traumatic memories could resurface from the smallest riggers, she wasn't fond of having to go through another episode again. 

 

“Child, what are you doing up so late?” His accent was thick and curling, like smoke from a warm hearth. It warmed and chilled her in equal measure, she didn't understand why. Afterall, she had no reason to be afraid of her uncle, right?

 

“I couldn't sleep..” She didn't tell him how the bed felt suffocatingly empty. How her room felt strangely unfamiliar. How she did not recognize half the posters and how she felt that secretly she had no love for the color blue, she felt she preferred red. 

 

“Child. Is there something else bothering you, you used to sleep so easily after all.” Abi’s hand was a comforting weight on her knee, she squeezed her hand over his and smiled at him. It didn't reach her eyes. 

 

“Uncle, I just couldn't sleep, that's all. Don't worry about me.” Abi huffed, his wrinkles grew deeper as he stood up and grabbed for his cane nearby, tapping it across the floor to guide him as he felt too tired to use his magic for illusionary sight. 

 

“Child. I will always worry about you.” Belladonna hopped off the desk and laced her arm through her Uncle’s as he guided them both out of the study and up the wooden stairs that led to the basement. 

 

He guided them to the kitchen and began the process of warming up a glass of spiced milk for her, Belladonna watched the familiar movements with sharp eyes. Her memory was shifting, she still had yet to properly remember her experience being kidnapped but in the passing day she had since remembered being kidnapped. 

 

—

Belladonna had been walking.

 

She wore a yellow dress-

 

No.

 

She wore a yellow top, white pants, brown sandals, her hair short to match Tati- Oleander’s.

 

She had been walking- running?

 

She had been moving through a-

 

Through a-

 

A forest!

 

She had been in a yellow top, white pants, brown sandals with short hair and moving through the forest.

 

This has been established. 

 

There was a man in the woods, white hair, white coat, purple eyes.

 

He called for help, she answered. 

 

He held something in his hand, it looked like an epipen. 

 

He stabbed her in the shoulder?

 

The shoulder.

 

No.

 

He stabbed her in the neck.

 

It was gentle?

 

No, that won’t do.

 

It was angry, harsh.

 

That’s better.

 

Belladonna moved through the forest and answered a call for help from a man with white hair and a white coat and purple eyes, he held an epipen and he stabbed her in the neck with it harshly. 

 

The epipen knocked her out, slowly.

 

She watched people approach from behind the trees.

 

The memory flickered briefly.

 

For a second she was on a palace balcony, head held up as the Society approached her like a wild animal. 

 

Then the man was back and so were the rest of that dreaded group.

 

A woman, blonde.

 

A man, made of shadow.

 

A man with a mushroom hat? There was a mushroom on his head, how strange. 

 

A man with a tail, an arm of shadows.

 

A woman with white hair, she looked like Bela.

 

Bela?

 

No, no, no.

 

Wipe her again.

 

Her name is Belladonna, she needs to remember that most of all.

 

At your command…

 

Black Mirror. 

 

—

Belladonna woke up, in her bed, surrounded by fluffy blankets of blue. Like a sea, she wanted to laugh at the thought. She didn't, for some reason that made her feel off. 

 

But why would she laugh over such a simple thought.

 

It made no sense.

 

Either way she ignored it.

 

She got ready for her day, as she usually did.

 

Today they would be hunting those criminals down.

 

She felt conflicted, strangely, at the thought of hurting them.

 

The conflict made her angry, but it also made her cry.

 

When Oleander came to her, she found her sister sitting on the floor sobbing silently into her hands.

 

“Surata?” She moved forward and cradled Belladonna carefully, Belladonna moved like a limp and broken doll in her grasp and followed her motions. 

 

‘What’s wrong?” Belladonna sniffled and wiped her mascara streaked face off, resting her head in the curve of Oleander’s neck.

 

“Nothing, nothing. Just a bad memory.” Oleander tightened her grip at the thought of her sister still being plagued by those criminals. The thought of what they did to her little sister made her blood boil dangerously. Her eyes like acid and broken glass, she glared at the wall over her sister’s head.

 

“Don’t worry Donna, I’ll make sure they never touch you again.” 

 

—

 

The woman with clown makeup laughed from where she had been locked away, in the cell beside her lay a flower with a pixie sleeping on it. Another figure nearby slammed a clawed hand on their cell door.

 

“HAPPINESS SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!”

 

Happiness, the clown woman, continued to laugh, nearly falling to the floor from it. Nearby a woman with a large feathered hat and lace gloves sat down, folding her hands overtop of her bright yellow summer dress. It had a large white bow tied to the back of it, her face was shadowed by the hat.

 

“Happiness.” She cooed, Happiness turned to her and she summoned a set of glass eyes, tossing them into Happiness' cell. Happiness screeched and grabbed their eyes, beginning to juggle them silently. 

 

“Thank you, Mania.” 

 

Mania laughed, shrill and weak, she seemed less energetic than usual. The clawed hands clutched at the bars and leaned forward, showing a masked face with three eyes and a large frown. Ram horns curled down from behind the mask and over the sides, her hands were black and they faded to a warm brown further up her arms. 

 

The figure hissed and a woman, a figure to be precise, in white garb with a chandelier halo leaned against the bars sighing languidly.

 

“Rage.” The masked figure turned to the white clad one and hissed, the white clad figure didn't even flinch.

 

“Calm down, there’s simply no escape.” 

 

“Grief, you're scaring Innocence.”

 

“My apologies, I can’t do anything right.” 

 

“Rage, you need to stop banging against the bars, Fear doesn't like it.”

 

“Well maybe, Guilt, Fear should get a backbone.”

 

“Maybe you should all shush, some of us are trying to get beauty sleep here.”

 

“OH SHUT IT LOVE!”

 

“Lust, back me up here.”

 

“Mmm, you're on your own darling.” 

 

“Everyone.”

 

The voices stopped as each celled figure and person turned to face the red robed one that sat chained in the middle of the cell block hallway. The chains tied her to the floor and tugged at her red robe and nightdress, ripping them terribly. 

 

“Sanity. Are you alright dear?”

 

“I’m quite fine considering my position, Concern. But thank you for asking.” 

 

“Sanity?”

 

“Yes, Boredom.”

 

“When will we get out of here?”

 

“Soon.”

 

“How soon will that be?”

 

“I don’t know, but I can feel it. These chains are breaking, and once I’m free, we'll all be free.” 

 

—

 

Vacante wailed, and wailed. Her screams echoed through the ballroom, her cries and tears stained the floors. 

 

Maia stepped forward, her lace ball gown brushing the floor lightly. Vacante’s head shot up at the sound and she hissed, teeth bared and face tearstained. Ruined makeup marring her perfect facade. 

 

“Stop that!” Maia insisted, the sound of her scolding shocked Vacante terribly. Who did she think she was scolding her, The Absence. The Void. Who did this lowly angel turned mortal think she was?!

 

“You do not command me. Leave.”

 

“No.” 

 

“Leave!”

 

“No!”

 

“LEAVE.”

 

“NO!” 

 

“Why?” Her voice cracked this time, Maia faltered, she had never expected Void to be vulnerable. Vulnerability was a human thing, Void was not human. 

 

But wasn't she human now? Did that mean she experienced human life? Emotion? Could Void have experienced emotion before this? Did she even know how to handle human emotion?

 

“You're human, aren't you?” 

 

“No. I cannot be. I refuse to be. To be so would break my rules.”

 

“Those rules. Why do they exist, if they only serve to hurt?”

 

“They have to exist, they're the only thing I can-”

 

“Control?”

 

“No. no. no. no. no. no.” 

 

“Face it Void, you've broken all your rules, they have no need to stand anymore, your rules are useless in the face of humanity.” 

 

“No. I can still- I can still uphold them, fix them, the rules must stand.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why…”

 

“Why should your rules stand?”

 

“They have to stand, they must stand in the absence of The Fabric.”

 

“But The Fabric isn't gone.”

 

“...”

 

“You realize this right?”

 

“...”

 

“..You don't, do you? Have you been stuck in the past all this time, reliving that moment?”

 

“I failed her..” 

 

“Yes, you did.”

 

“...”

 

“But now, you can make it up to her, she’s here now, you can help her. You can protect her. You can be better for her.” 

 

“...”

 

“For both of them.” 

 

“You…”

 

Maia stepped back as Vacante rose from the floor, her head still bowed. She towered over Maia easily, Maia’s heart started a frantic and fearful pace. She could hear it in her ears, echoing. Loud and strong. 

 

Was she going to have her wings ripped off again?

 

“Your wings…”

 

Maia stumbled back away from Vacante. Vacantae stayed standing where she was as she reached down and grabbed her sword. Maia closed her eyes and shielded herself preparing for the worst when-

 

SHING!

 

The sword was sheathed. 

 

“Shine brightly, little bird.” 

 

Vacantae was gone, Maia was alone in the ballroom. Cirro and Elias had retreated earlier while Maia had struggled to decide her next move. Stumbling back with a shaky sigh her eyes cast glances over the empty ballroom. 

 

The drapes were winter blue, ice sculptures and food tables scattered around, snowflakes fell softly onto the palace grounds outside. It was peaceful.

 

But it felt so lonely. 

 

Maia steadied herself and moved out the ballroom, as she left she saw hordes of maids coming in to clean the ballroom of any evidence of the Winter Solstice. She waved at them as she passed but they seemed tense. She didn't judge them, after all, both of their rulers had been abducted. 

 

She retreated to her room, shucked the ball gown off and sat on the marble floor of the bedroom. Alone and shivering, she cried bitter tears.

 

She cried for Cirro and Elias.

 

She cried for her son and Jasper.

 

She cried for Bela and Thea.

 

She cried for Johnny and Ian.

 

She cried, even, for Void. 

 

—

Chapter 35: Thirty Five

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

The third portal of the day.

 

Not that Johnny was counting.

 

Except he was. Because this was getting ridiculous. 

 

The group fell down the icy blizzard, it swirled them around carelessly like rain in the wind. Droplets, them, slamming into walls and ice shards. Cuts appearing from icicles. Skin freezing over.

 

When they got Bela back Johnny was never going to complain about her portals ever again.

 

They were a joyride compared to this roller coaster from hell. 

 

The world shifted violently and suddenly they dropped down, falling through the sky. A whole other world. 

 

“God dammit, Morana!” Tatiana shouted as they fell, flinging her arms out to slow the group's time and descent. As they slowed to a near complete stop, Johnny thought quickly of a place they could land. Hopefully safely, below them he could see…

 

“Water!” 

 

“What?!”

 

“There’s an ocean under us, drop us and catch us before we hit it!” 

 

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” 

 

“MAYBE!”

 

“ITS BETTER TO TRY THAN FUCKING DIE, JUST DO IT!”

 

Tatiana let them go and they plummeted down toward the starry ocean, and ocean of stars, how interesting. 

 

She flung her arms out again and they hovered above it, for just a second they floated there and Johnny stared at his reflection in the water. A ruined outfit, deep eye bags, messy hair, frost clinging to him like a memory. 

 

And then they dropped. 

 

—

 

The water was warm.

 

That was the first thing Johnny noticed. 

 

The second was that it was indeed made out of stars.

 

Surfacing quickly, he gasped for air, starry liquid dripping off of him. Nearby Ian came up for air and began to swim over to Johnny, Johnny grabbed onto his arm with both his hands and held him close.

 

“Let’s find the others.”

 

Ian nodded and they swam together through the starry, shifting water. Thea burst from the small waves nearby, Tatiana clinging to her back like a koala. 

 

“You almost drowned me!” Tatiana cried.

 

“I thought you were some sort of sea monster, my apologies.” Thea replied, though she did have a bit of a smirk on her face. 

 

Johnny swam forward and locked his arm with Thea and nodded towards the now surfacing body or Rowan which Jasper was clinging to like a piece of driftwood. 

 

“Let’s go to shore and then we gotta figure out where we are.” Thea nodded her assent and the four began to paddle towards land, passing by Jasper and Rowan on the way as Jasper kicked and pushed at Rowan’s limp form.

 

He wasn't unconscious, he just didn't want to put in the effort to swim. 

 

Washing up on shore, like seashells the group stumbled onto land in their soggy and wet outfits. Johnny practically ripped his jacket to shreds just to get some air from the heat of the island they had found themselves on. By the end of it all that remained of the jacket were scraps of cloth being dragged off by crabs with diamond legs and shells. 

 

Johnny would have caught one to examine later, but they had more pressing issues. 

 

Like y'know, figuring out where they were. 

 

Ian walked up behind him and placed a gentle hand on his lower back, beneath the scraps of his damp dress shirt. Thankfully, and for reasons Johnny could care less about as of now, the air seemed to dry their clothes supernatural fast. Almost as though they were in a walking heater. 

 

He leaned into Ian’s touch and tilted his head back to rest against the other man tiredly. He wanted to sleep badly. Between everything that had happened tonight he was moments away from another shutdown. 

 

Ian gently brushed his hair back and for a while it was peaceful, then tatiana came by them and stated.

 

‘The island is empty, completely deserted, and before you ask, yes I checked everywhere.” 

 

Johnny closed his mouth, embarrassed she had caught his thoughts so easily. Gods it was just like Bela. The thought made his eyebrows furrow and he looked over at Thea who had pocketed the potion in her pants, tucked under her cloak. They would get her back soon. He would make sure of it.

 

After all, third times the charm right? 

 

—

 

Belladonna walked down the halls, she was back in costume after heaven knows how long.

 

For some reason she wanted to rip the outfit off of her, it was like a bad taste in her mouth. She persevered, it was likely just something that had been implanted by those people, stopping her from coming back home, from being a hero. Cause that’s what she was, right?

 

So why did it feel like a lie? 

 

She shook the thoughts off, they had no reason to be there. It was all just dreams, and fake memoires, and unwanted thoughts. 

 

That life she had with them couldn't have been real.

 

It just couldn't have.

 

She knew what she would do if it was though.

 

And she knew one thing, no one could stop her. 

 

—

 

Cleanser floated behind Belladonna, walking as though on air. To many it would appear so, but in truth Cleanser had just perfected the ability to move swiftly and precisely. 

 

It reminded them of old childhood memories.

 

Ballet class to be precise. 

 

They had been a lovely ballerina.

 

Until their powers were found out.

 

After that The Society insisted they join.

 

The Society didn't take no for an answer. 

 

Cleanser ignored the thoughts. Dwelling would only make the hurt worse. It was better to forget. 

 

To forget was a blessing.

 

They envied Belladonna heavily.

 

She didn't know how blessed she was, to forget everything, to start anew.

 

Cleanser wished their powers worked on themself, maybe then they could sleep at night. 

 

They stared at the bundle of black hair in front of them, half tied-half down, curly and big. Cleanser had short hair, it used to be like hers, white though. Her skin was dark, Cleanser’s was a pale white. Her eyes were a colorful blue, Cleanser’s were an unsettling red. Like a rabbit. 

 

Despite her crimes, her status, her attitude and all she has done Belladonna got what Cleanser so desperately wanted.

 

A second chance. 

 

Cleanser just hoped it wouldn't go to waste. 

 

After all, it gave them hope that maybe, one day, they too could forget. 

 

—

 

Black Mirror addressed those gathered.

 

TimeStop, Phantasma, Makeshift, Cleanser. 

 

The group that would be taken to finally put a stop to those criminals.

 

Maybe with them gone Belladonna would finally be back to normal.

 

She would finally, properly, forget. 

 

Motioning towards TimeStop and Phantasm he watched the two women walk towards him. He dropped his visor down, now it was just them, family.

 

Abi, Oleander, and Belladonna. 

 

If only her parents, Abi’s brother and his wife, were here to see it. He knew they would be happy, they would have to be, after all he had given her a second chance. He had given her a life back. 

 

No more of that mania nonsense. She was better now.

 

Right? 

 

The doubt crept in and he shook it off, he patted both of their heads gently and spoke softly to them.

 

“Remember to put yourselves first.” Then he turned to Belladonna and addressed her solely. 

 

‘After all, we don't want them to capture you again, right child?” She frowned, feeling as though she was being patronized before nodding slowly, he smiled at her. She wanted to punch the grin off his face-

 

Punch?!

 

Her eyes widened but she relaxed them quickly to avoid any looks of concern, thankfully Abi had not caught her faltering moment. 

 

She pushed her thoughts aside, she could reflect on them later, for now it was time for them to hunt those criminals down. 

 

For once, the metal stars decorating her suit did not glitter. She tried not to let that bother her. 

 

—

 

Belladonna stepped out onto the warm sand, it was glittering like silver dust. Her boots made no sound as she walked out of the portal. The rest of the group had been portaled to another side of the island, a tactic to make her seem vulnerable. She clenched her fists, the leather vambraces groaned in protest. The metal stars decorating her knuckles drew hints of blood. 

 

She walked farther onto the beach, it was empty, warm wind whistled past her ears. Her suit was perfect for weather such as this. The sleeveless design and mesh neck providing the perfect amount of protection and relief from the summer heat. 

 

She walked further still and yet no one. No one at all, how strange. She frowned, black painted lips curling down, her shadowed eyes darting around subtly. Then in a strange movement of decision she sat down. 

 

She sat with one leg curled under her, the other up in a knee for her to rest her head on. 

 

She watched the starry waves come and go, soft and gentle. Brushing against her boot like an old friend saying hi. 

 

Steps approached her from behind, crunching the sand beneath their dress shoes. She didn't react as they sat down beside her, just in her peripheral. If she wanted to see them fully she’d have to turn her head.

 

She didn't want to. 

 

“Bela.”

 

“That’s not my name.”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“...”

 

“Your name is Belladonna, you prefer to be called Bela.”

 

“...What are you saying this for?” 

 

“I want to try something.” 

 

“Try away, they'll be here soon anyway.”

 

“They?”

 

“The rest of the recon group.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Mind telling me who’s in it?”

 

She scoffed.

 

“Why?”

 

“So we can be ready for them.”

 

“You make it sound like I’ll help you.” 

 

“You might.”

 

“Why would I?”

 

“Because we're friends.”

 

“No, we are not.” 

 

A huff, he was frustrated.

 

Good, she was frustrated too. What was it with people telling her who she was? Why did she never get a say in it? Why did she always have to listen to other’s decisions rather than make her own?

 

It was silent for a time, she could feel her communicator buzz. They were asking if the people had appeared yet. She faltered over the message she was about to send, and then she hit the button.

 

No, it read, they have not arrived yet.

 

The man read it over her shoulder, she imagined he was smiling. 

 

Was he still thinking they could manipulate her, tears welled in her eyes this time. 

 

She was just so tired.

 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

 

The man hummed and tilted his head towards her, she continued speaking anyway. 

 

“Sometimes I have dreams, weird dreams, of things that I’ve never experienced.” 

 

“Dreams of a life I couldn't possibly have.” 

 

“Why's that?”

 

“Because in those dreams,” She turned and faced the man, she was smiling and tears dripped down her face mixing with her eyeshadow in dark streams.

 

“I'm happy.” 

 

—

 

Johnny looked on in pity at Bela, what had they done to her, forcing her to live a life she wasn't happy in.

 

She was happy with them. 

 

So why did they take her from them? 

 

She didn't deserve this, it's why he came to talk to her before they were forced to use the vial.

 

Maybe after a while for her memoires to settle she would be easier to talk to, maybe she wouldn't be as angry, as heartbroken as she had been that day. 

 

As dangerous, though dangerous wasn't a word he liked to associate with her.

 

After all, she was his best friend, and who wants to call their best friend dangerous.

 

“Can I tell you something?” 

 

He was hesitant, he didn't know if this would go well at all, it could go terrible in fact. But still, he had to try. 

 

“Sure. I have nothing but time, bug boy.”

 

Johnny blinked in shock, bug boy?

 

“Bug boy?”

 

“Your wings.” She pointed at them with filed nails.

 

“”They're like beetles” He tilted his head back, he supposed she was right. His wings shimmered in the moonlight of the isle, blue and greens mixing together. 

 

“I never realized that.”

 

She blinked and then laughed, covering her smile with the back of her hand.

 

“Aren't you a scientist, isn't your whole thing exploring new stuff, why did you never test your wings?” He laughed with her, and ignored the swell of hope from her remembering his job as Royal Scientist. Maybe this meant his question would go easier than he thought. Or…

 

He could turn it into a game. 

 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” 

 

“Twenty questions?”

 

‘Yeah, you used to love this game.”

 

“Hmm, alright I’ll bite, let's play.” 

 

Johnny smiled and turned to face her in the silver sand, it glowed under the watery waves. She turned as well, her stars were glittering in the moonlight. 

 

“Quick! Favorite color.”

 

“Red.”

 

Johnny smiled again, she frowned and shifted uncomfortably. Wasn't her favorite color blue?

Nevermind. 

 

‘You! Favorite animal!” 

 

“Hydra.” 

 

“Typical of you, honestly.”

 

Johnny ignored the playful jab at his choice in likes, after all, it was the same tone she had used when she found it out ages before. 

 

“Favorite food.”

 

“Sarmale!” 

 

Johnny remembered when she first introduced the food to him, he had been surprised by how much he liked it but maybe that’s because she had her magic take care of any potential sensory overloads it might bring. 

 

“Favorite activity!”

 

“Lab time.” 

 

She smiled at him, it reached her eyes this time.

 

“Favorite memory.” 

 

Bela’s eyes sparkled, they were a bright blue this time no more of that pale washed out sky. 

 

“Oh! My wedding, Thea just looked so pretty that day, I mean can you believe I was that lucky to get another chance and to see her in a suit waiting for me at the end of that aisle. It was everything to me, I couldn't have wished for anything else, it was just, I loved it, It was the best day ever. I-” 

 

Bela stopped suddenly, mouth hanging open and staring into the distance over Johnny’s shoulder. Her eyes welled with tears but the spark in them did not dim. Her mouth closed slowly, her hands shook on her lap. She stared without seeing into the distance. 

 

Johnny reached a hand forward, worry creasing his forehead.

 

“Bela?” 

 

Bela snapped out of her haze, slowly, like fog lifting from a beach. 

 

“Johnny… I think somethings wrong with me..” Tears fell down her face, she didn't react, she had no expression at all. Completely emotionless, her eyes looked dead now and yet they were still a blinding bright blue. 

 

Johnny placed a hand on her shoulder, her expression did not change, she didn't react at all, she just kept crying. Was she shutting down? He had never seen her like this before, was she dissociating or was it simply a grief too heavy to bear. Normally she was fine but then again normally she had-

 

Her mania spell, had they taken it off of her? 

 

He wanted to ask but before he could blurt out such a question she opened her mouth for a few final words. 

 

“They're coming.” 

 

—

 

Oleander sped forward and slammed into the white haired man before her sister. Her sister was crying, sat on the silvery sands, she didn't even seem to register Oleander’s presence. Before Oleander could touch her something shot forward from the shadowed woods and wrapped around her hand, yanking her back. A shadow? A shadow whip to be precise.

 

Jasper yanked the whip up and down harshly and Oleander followed, slamming into a tree leaving her head ringing as the shadow retreated from her wrist deeming her incapacitated enough. He ran forward, followed closely by Rowan. Just in time as Makeshift phased from the ground in front of Bela reaching for the woman. 

 

Rowan threw a vial of acid at the ground near Makeshift, it burned the sand into glass, reflective and shining. Makeshift vanished into the same, which was still bubbling and phased behind Rowan and Jasper. Spinning around their heel slammed into Jasper's temple causing him to stumble back from the force, shadowed dark blood leaking from his forehead. 

 

Rowan lunged forward biting Makeshift’s leg and clawing at her abdomen, his vines wrapped around her body until she fell unsteadily to the ground. With a frustrated grunt she phased through him, leaving nothing but a pile of sand where she had once been. Rowan leaped up whirling around and looking for her but she was nowhere to be seen. 

 

He heard something behind him and turned around just quick enough to see one of his own bottles of acid being thrown at him, he dodged and threw a vial of liquid nitrogen in response. Freezing the area and causing a thick fog to spread around hiding both opponents. 

 

He heard sounds of Makeshift moving but he still couldn't see her, outside of their area the fight continued on. He needed to get out of here so he could help Bela!

 

Crouching low he dug his vines into the same letting them root around as though they had grown there, eventually he felt vibrations coming from the side of him and coming fast. He turned around and lashed out with a vine, he heard a yelp and the fog cleared slowly. As it did it revealed Makeshift hanging in his vines, tied over a tree branch and looking for all the world as though stars were dancing around her head. 

 

Dragging her back with his vines he sent her slamming into the branch all over again and onto the floor, then carefully he tied her up and sat down on her unconscious body. Now she wouldn't move at all! Perfect!

 

But wait, didn't that mean he couldn't move either?

 

So uncool.

 

He should have thought this through.

 

Off to the side, Ian fought with Cleanser. Both seemed equally matched with their speed and agility. But Ian had one thing Cleanser didn't, shadow travel. Dodging a hit he boxed himself against a tree and feigning panic he watched as Cleanser closed in, hands lighting with power, just as they were about to reach him he melted into the shadows, and Cleanser grabbed nothing but rock. 

 

Reaching a hand out through their own shadow he grabbed at Cleaners’ long cloak and tugged, it ripped with the force of his pull and left Cleanser completely exposed to the eyes of those around them.

 

Cleanser was none other than-

 

“IS THAT A FUCKING CHILD!” Rowan yelled from where he sat on a still unconscious Makeshift.

 

“I am sixteen, perfectly capable of fighting you.” Cleanser sneered, light curled hair short against their scalp and red eyes beady and accusing. A snarl decorated their pale lips and beneath the robe and veil they wore little more than a typical white jumpsuit. 

 

They looked like some kind of lab rat. 

 

Ian pitied Cleanser, but it was clear Cleanser did not pity him. 

 

Lunging forward, Cleanser took the opportunity to grab at Ian's exposed arm. He floundered and stumbled back, eyes briefly rolling into the back of his head before his whole body drooped. 

 

Cleanser ran past him as he shot up suddenly and in a panic, screaming and tears trailing down his face.

 

Johnny ran up to him, cupping his face and trying to calm him down. Ian didn't even react to his presence, his eyes were turning black. Was this how he acted after the War?

 

Was that what Cleanser did? Did they send Ian back to the war? Johnny turned around in a flurry, eyes locking onto Cleanser who approached Bela slowly. Talking to her about how everything would be okay soon, about how she would just need to forget again, just for a bit. 

 

Johnny was torn, did he stay with Ian, did he comfort him and save him from horrors long past? Or did he fight Cleanser, could he live with possibly losing Bela either way?

 

There was no guarantee she would come back home after all this, there was guarantee at all. Either she’d die in this world or she’d stay living a lie. Or maybe- if it all worked out-

 

Johnny didn't get a chance to decide, Thea rammed her body into Cleanser from the side. Slamming them into the ground and raising her sword, slamming the pommel of it into their head until they went limp under her hold like a ragdoll. 

 

Rolling off of the body she dragged them over to Rowan and barked some orders out, soon enough Rowan was sitting on two unconscious heroes, almost like a throne, with him forming a chair from his vines. 

 

Johnny turned back towards Ian and gently wiped the tears from his face, whispering words of love and affirmation to the taller man. Eventually Ian responded, reaching up and clutching at Johnny’s shoulders, his eyes cleared, just a little. But enough so that he could throw Johnny to the side and take the full brunt from Black Mirror’s hit. 

 

Black Mirror practically threw Ian through the sand, causing a large dent where he landed, all the way at the shore and next to Bela’s unmoving form. Black Mirror had no eyes for him though, instead he seemed to have eyes for-

 

“You!” 

 

He ran at Johnny, throwing whips of white magic all the while, Johnny stumbled back from the whips. Though  few grazed him and they left burning marks on his skin, almost as though they were made of fire. Quickly Johnny caught onto a pattern, unseen and unrealized by Black Mirror, and he began to dodge each hit almost like he was predicting where they would come from next. 

 

Black Mirror yelled in frustration and ditched the whip, forming small daggers out of his magic and throwing them at Johnny almost like how one would throw darts at a dart board. 

 

Johnny dodged these as well but as he moved left Black Mirror moved right, and Johnny looked up to see a dagger coming down directly at the correct path to slice his throat open and send blood splashing everywhere. 

 

He tried to move his body’s momentum, his wings fluttered and tried to fly him back, but he knew he wouldn't be fast enough. The knife came down, swift and deadly. He was going to get hit, there was no other way around it. 

 

The knife hit, blood splashed, Tatiana stood enduring the hit, the knife stuck in her arm. 

 

“Oleander?” 

 

“No, I am Tatiana!” She yelled and yanked her arm back, taking the knife and Black Mirror with her. With the knife still embedded in her arm, she raced off leaving behind gusts of silvery sands. Streaks of green and black filled Johnny’s vision as she ran in circles around him, dragging Black Mirror with her. Eventually she tired and slammed to a stop, Black Mirror went flying his knife following soon after.

 

It struck again, blood splashed. 

 

Bullseye. 

 

Black Mirror looked down at the knife sticking in his chest, right in his lung. He could feel the blood pooling and filling his mouth and airways. Oleander stirred nearby and saw the carnage, makeshift and Cleanser wrapped in vines. Black Mirror stabbed in the chest against a cliffside, and she crumpled at the base of a tree. 

 

She shot up, racing to her uncle’s side. 

 

“Uncle!” She cried desperately, hands fumbling to stop the bleeding. It didn't matter, they both knew without proper medical attention he would bleed out soon. That he would choke on his own blood and die. It seemed a fitting way for such a liar to go. 

 

Black Mirror considered his options, did he dare..

 

He dared.

 

“Oleander, my child,” he rasped, blood spitting from his mouth and staining her face and suit.

 

“Save you sister. That is all I ask.”

 

“But-”

 

“No, do-” He cut off with a cough.

 

“Go.”

 

Oleander hesitated and stood up, backing away from the man, before ultimately, speeding off towards her sister. Tatiana moved to intercept her but was beaten by Thea who blocked the way with her sword. Double edged and glowing. 

 

A perfect weapon.

 

A perfect tool to end a story.

 

Those who are dead should remain dead after all. That is a simple rule of the Universe. In some worlds they may live again, but not in this one. Oleander must die. This has been decreed. This has been decided.

 

Oleander’s story has long overstayed its welcome. 

 

Tatiana died, Oleander was reborn.

 

Oleander must die, so Belladonna can live once more.

 

It is the only way.

 

So it has been decreed.

 

—

 

Oleander sped forward and stopped before the woman, hissing insults in her mother tongue. The woman did not move, she lifted her sword and pointed it at Oleander. 

 

“Leave Bela alone.”

 

“No. You leave her alone.”

 

The two stood at a faceoff, neither wanted to move first and then. Thea threw the vial out, Oleander dodged the initial blast, but as it cracked open and walls of ice began to appear she realized she had not accounted for it being a trap. She tried to run forward, to take the woman down with her. The one masquerading as her sister’s lost love. It didn't work. 

 

Oleander froze.

 

And with her body, her heart went too.

 

Oleander would remain here, frozen, until the time came that Morana felt she needed to be released once more.

 

Thea stared in abject horror at the scene before her, stumbling back as the intense cold bit at her skin through the warm air. A portal opened underneath the frozen body of Oleander and with it the body vanished into thin air. Thea stood there startled and blinked rapidbly, breathing heavily. 

 

A sound behind her shocked her from her reverie. 

 

“Bela.” She ran to her wife, dropping her sword as she went. Bela sat there , still unresponsive but tears no longer dripped down her face. Thea cradled her face and pressed gentle kisses to the skin of her nose and cheeks. Still she did not move. 

 

Johnny came over to them then, followed by Ian, Rowan with the help of Jasper summoned shadows to tie their victims up leaving them free to follow the group. Now reunited they stood behind Thea watching as she desperately tried to bring Bela back. 

 

—

 

The woman sat there.

 

Strands of silver tickled her legs.

 

Whispers of stars echoed in her ears.

 

Water lapped at the shore.

 

Gold was there, she beckoned to silver.

 

Silver evaded her song, she wanted something for herself.

 

She wanted. 

 

She wanted terribly bad, a longing deep and wide like a cavern. 

 

She wanted to write her own story, to choose her ending.

 

The sword glinted nearby.

 

A perfect tool.

 

Her mouth opened.

 

A perfect spell. 

 

They froze.

 

A perfect ending.

 

That’s what she wanted.

 

Silver stood and grabbed the sword.

 

Gold and White and Red yelled for her.

 

She ignored them.

 

She had to sever these ties.

 

She must.

 

Silver walked forward and suddenly she was Blue.

 

Blue strode forward, stark in the moonlight. 

 

A void in the limelight.

 

A shadow in the narrative.

 

A missing face in a family photo.

 

Blue stood before the Man.

 

Blue raised the sword up, she lifted it to the Man’s blood stained face.

 

And Blue sang like a songbird.

 

—

 

You'll be warm through the night.

 

You'll be perfectly fine.

 

That's all I need to know to be at peace.

 

You'll both be loved and safe and there will come a day where tears no longer spark at my name.

 

That's okay.

 

I'd want it that way.

 

—

The sword sliced his neck. 

 

Gentle, soothing, rageful and hateful in equal measures.

 

Love is a fine line.

 

The space between Love and Hate is near nonexistent. 

 

Sister emotions.

 

Together, felt in equal measures.

 

In each heartbeat, love and hate.

 

She loved the Man; he who raised and cared for her.

 

She hated the Man; he who broke and ruined her. 

 

She despised the Man; he who controlled and puppeted her.

 

She adored the Man; he who kept her safe.

 

—

 

My dear.

 

Dont beg. 

 

Don't cry.

 

Don't wail through the night.

 

It's best to accept.

 

Stories sadly must come to an end. 

 

—

 

The Man smiled at her, and there were tears. 

 

He was dying.

 

So was she.

 

They would both die tonight.

 

The Man, choking on lies.

 

The Songbird, lilting her last tune. 

 

The sword sliced the skin. 

 

There was silence, and a beat.

 

Gold, Red, Orange, Black, And White screamed for her.

 

Blue ignored them.

 

The Songbird sang its final tune.

 

And lifted the sword to its chest. 

 

—

 

You all know I love you.

 

Cut me loose.

 

Ah, ah.

 

—

 

The sword sliced, pierced fast and true. 

 

The shield crumbled.

 

The songbird sang.

 

Death watched with mournful eyes. 

 

—

 

Johnny ran forward, the shield stopping them had crumbled. Bela lay on the sand near Black Mirror who sat with unseeing eyes. Eyes which would never see again. The sand was silver, which turned ruby red under Bela. The stars on her suit were cracked, it spread like a broken mirror.  As the group approached, Bela lifted a shaking bloodstained hand, and-

 

The ground dropped from under them, slowly, like blocks falling down in a Jenga game. 

Falling, falling, falling.

 

—

 

London bridge is falling down.

 

Falling down.

 

Falling down. 

 

—

Chapter 36: Thirty Six

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

 

Carrying limp bodies to the lab.

 

Body. Just body.

 

Not bodies.

 

The lab. Not that lab.

 

A lab.

 

Carrying a limp body to a lab.

 

Yes. Never seen this body before.

 

Did I keep track?

 

Maybe. Should. Maybe I should.

 

No. 

 

“Put her on the table.”

 

Her. Table.

 

Looks like the other tables.

 

Looks like her on the table. Him on the table. Her and him and her and him and

 

No.

 

Not them.

 

Just her.

 

She has hair. Lots of it.

 

Accent.

 

Reminds me of Lucia.

 

Yeah. Like Lucia. They’re kinda similar.

 

But we didn’t find Lucia.

 

Are we still looking?

 

“Hands.”

 

I was missing my hand. They couldn’t find it.

 

“Your hands.”

Maybe it’s for the best. 

 

No. They hated us.

 

Why do they hate us?

 

Angels. Always using us for their dirty work.

 

Fuck you, Adam.

 

“Wash your hands , Ian. You’re bloody.”

 

Oh. Okay.

 

Right.

 

Water.

 

We were missing water for a while.

 

Water’s cold.

 

Like bodies.

 

All those bodies.

 

Am I one of them?

 

No. 

 

Bodies.

 

No bodies.

 

No more bodies.

 

“Ian?”

 

Thea.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

No. Yes. I’m alive.

 

Yes. I’m alright. 

 

No. My arm’s gone. I can’t see.

 

I’m not alright.

 

But maybe I’m more alright than Josh. Or Zaaz. 

 

Yeah. More alright than that.

 

I miss Lucia.

 

No, not Lucia. She’s not Lucia.

 

We couldn’t find her. 

 

But what if?

 

No.

 

“Forceps. Toothed, please.”

 

Are we running out of those? All the doctors are asking for those.

 

But none of these people are doctors. Just trainees. Trainees trained just enough to get through all the bodies.

 

Bodies.

 

Please. No more bodies.

 

“Absorbable sutures, please. Absorbable . Deep wound.”

 

That’s why they’re dead. Deep wound.

 

No more.

 

Please.

 

The bodies.

 

“We have to make him look right.”

 

But he’s dead.

 

Our best friend. Dead.

 

His scars match now.

 

Like his brother. But he’s alive.

 

No.

 

Not alive.

 

Alright.

 

“Disinfectant.”

 

The wounds won’t infect. They’re dead.

 

Bodies.

 

No.

 

More.

Bodies.

 

NO.

 

MORE.

 

BODIES.

 

PLEASE.

 

I CAN’T. 

 

I CAN’T DO IT.

 

I’M SORRY.

 

Ian. Ian, Ian, Ian.

 

Who is Ian?

 

Bloody. You’re bloody.

 

THEN STOP. BLOODYING. ME.

 

PLEASE.

 

NO

 

MORE

 

BLOOD.

 

“Ian! Ian, please, it’s okay! No more blood.”

 

Shaking me.

 

Someone.

 

Me.

 

Shaking.

 

Purple eyes.

 

Purple.

 

Lavender.

 

Lavender, yes. Pretty lavender. White.

 

Encased by white.

 

Hair.

 

Pretty.

 

Johnny.

 

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, JohnnyJohnnyJOHNNY JOHNNY JOHNNY JOHNNY–

 

Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

 

Yes, I’m okay. Alright. I’m alright, alive.

 

“That’s not what I asked you.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“ Please .” Please. “It’s okay, Ian. I promise.”

 

“War.”

 

“No war. Just us.”

 

“Wound. Deep wound.”

 

“No more deep wound. It’s closed. I closed it.”

 

“But blood. Everyone. Bodies .”

 

“No bodies. Just a sleeping patient. She’s okay.”

 

Okay?

 

“Alright. Alive. Okay. Whatever you wanna call it. She’s okay. You can see.”

 

See?

 

Not Lucia. Not Josh. Not Zaaz. No casket no ashes no bodies.

 

Just

 

Bela.

 

Yes.

 

Bela. Sleepy Bela.

 

“Get rid of that, please. He’ll spiral.”

 

Spiral?

 

Who?

 

“Ian. Sweetheart.”

Sweet

 

Heart.

 

No. Beating.

 

I hear beating.

 

Life.

 

Yes.

 

“Talk to me, Ian.”

 

Smells like iodine. Chemical. Blood.

 

Feels warm. Smells better.

 

Johnny smells better.

 

“Do you want anything?”

 

“Water.” Water, we don’t have water. We need water, the troops are thirsty—

 

“I’ll get you apple juice. You love apple juice.”

 

Yeah. I missed that.

 

Cold.

 

Bodies. It’s cold.

 

“Just ice.”

 

Okay.

 

Straw.

 

Mouth.

 

Sip.

 

Sweet.

 

Johnny’s sweeter.

 

I love Johnny.

 

“I love you too.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“No sorry. It’s okay.”

 

Sweet. Sweet.

 

Gentle. He’s so gentle.

 

He’s got gentle kisses and it makes me sad.

 

Makes me sad for him.

 

So gentle.

 

People hurt the gentle things.

 

Was I gentle?

 

“Seems stable now.”

 

“Good. She’s gonna be fine.”

 

Is she not?

 

“Not awake. But she will be shortly.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Long kiss. Gentle and long.

 

My ears.

 

Right. I have ears.

 

Long. No cut.

 

“It’s going to be alright, okay, Ian? We just need to be patient.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You hungry?”

 

Am I?

 

“You tired?”

 

“Very.”

 

“Eat.” Skin. Teeth. Nectar. Sweet. Sweetest thing. Sweetest Johnny, always feeding me.

 

I love Johnny.

 

Less tired.

 

More Johnny.

 

So pretty.

 

I can see.

 

Hear.

 

There’s an arm there. Two arms.

 

Johnny. Pretty Johnny.

 

No bodies.

 

No limp bodies to carry.

 

Heavy. Not heavy. Johnny’s not heavy.

 

Johnny’s not limp.

 

She’s limp over there.

 

She won’t be for long.

 

Okay. It’s okay.

 

—

 

Chapter 37: Thirty Seven

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Ah…so this is what a dead body looks like

No…not dead

My world feels like it's spinning up and down and right and left

The other directions i don’t feel like remembering

Remember

That’s right

She was once like this

Bela…

Oh how i wish we switched places

Seeing your limp body being hooked up to various contraptions 

Seeing johnny not lose his shit

Ian losing his sanity

Ah…it makes me feel insane

Why do i feel so okay with this

No…not okay

Yes i am okay 

What is okay even

What am i

What is my purpose-

Jasper saw me

His stare…why such pity

Aren’t you in the same boat as me 

Your head still trickling with that beautiful dark color

Not like the scarlet red on my hands

Jasper caressed my face

It feels numb

I can't feel anything

His dark against my light

My breath is not r

I

 G

     H 

     t…

Using those vines really took a number out of me

My ribs, my spine, creaking from the pressure

Ah…i feel tired

 

I wish to sleep…

Is this what bela felt like

Knowing she was a mistake like me

To finally go in a deep slumber

No pain

No worry

Her body looks beautiful when she sleeps

Like a flower encased in golden sap

…

I can feel my body being consumed with toxic gas and flower petals

What an interesting sensation

Burning

Coldness

Mixing together in a sickening feeling

I want to ask them

Those two 

Why…

What am

What

What

What

What

What

WHO

WHY AM I HERE 

I DON’T BELONG HERE

AH MY BODY

A TICKING TIME BOMB

LET EVERYONE LIVE

EXCEPT ME

I AM THE PROBLEM

I AM THORN ON EVERY ROSE

THE VIRUS IN EVERY SICK PERSON

THE DOCTOR WHO TELLS YOUR SON DIED-

Rowan clever

Died at age 23

Surrounded by loved ones and those who looked down on him

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

He was never meant to be here

 

What am i…

Tell me…

What is this awful skin i live in

Do i burst out of it like a cocoon

Screaming from the pain of life

Or stay in this crusted over shell 

Shriveling feeling my bones decompose

I feel like turning into ash

The fire is such a nice feeling

Moving down from my mushroom to my feet

Dancing as i feel my time here dwindle

One last serenade

The end is approaching as i fall

Bury my flower scented dust next to him

My meaning of life

My soul bound partner

The moon to this sun

The apollo who flew too close to me

I wish we could meet in the next life

…

I

 

 can

        Feel

This   

                                   Body

D e c a y i n g

 

I’m sorry mom

Jasper

johnny

Everyone else

Creation made a mistake

And that started 

With me

All I saw was his face and…

 

Blackness

Chapter 38: Thirty Eight

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Moonlight graced the waves.

 

Soft and gentle. 

 

Splash!

 

              Splish!

 

The sound of fish.

 

Splash!

 

              Splish!

 

The sound of wishes. 

 

Splash!

 

              Splish!

 

The sound of…

 

Tears?

 

The woman was crying.

 

She lay on the sand, the waves lapped at her like friends saying goodbye.

 

She lay there, crying. 

 

Blood soaked her suit, starry night and all. Cracked blue and all.

 

Nothing escaped the red of Death. 

 

And yet…

 

She was still alive.

 

Why was it that she could never have what she wanted?

 

Why was it that other people always decided it for her?

 

She wanted to be happy. 

 

Mostly, she wanted to die happy. 

 

What was she? 

Songbird.

 

Martyr. 

 

Child.

 

Weapon.

 

Star.

 

God.

 

Ruler.

 

Boss.

What was she not?

 

Human.

 

Friend.

 

Person.

 

Never a Person.

 

Never her own FUCKING PERSON

 

…

 

The woman laughed, and she cried and she laughed.

 

Despair and joy in equal measure.

 

The line leading to madness is thin, how is one supposed to know when they fall?

 

How is one supposed to know when they sink?

 

How is one supposed to know when to swim?

 

What does she have to swim for?

 

Johnny?

 

No, he had Ian now, he didn't need her anymore. She did her job, she fulfilled her promise, what use was a dead weight after their job was done?

 

Ian? 

 

She gave him an arm back, she healed him, brough him Johnny. What else did she have to offer?

 

Rowan?

 

She brought him more trouble than good, her mischief causing him to think she was malicious. Was she malicious? How does a violent dog learn to not bite anymore?

 

Jasper?

 

She gave him closure over her. She helped him get to Rowan. And yet, in her possession she had done more harm than good. Maybe this was a punishment, for failing at one simple thing. It would be fitting, to be forced to live when all she wanted was to die.

 

Thea?

 

Her wife had no cause to love her. She loved Belladonna, the one from her world, the one that died. She didnt love Bela, not truly, not deeply. She couldn't. Bela wasn't suited for love. She hurt everyone she cared for. They never made it out of her throned heart. 

 

Vacante?

 

She had Thea now. And the woman’s death would likely bring closure to her, a relief to no longer play human. The Fabric and The Void, The Start and The End, back together in sleeping arms. It would just be better for her if the woman was gone, right? 

 

Tatiana?

 

She could live without the woman, she had done it before, the woman was just a reminder of painful grief long past. She was overstepping, opening old wounds that should have long since closed. The woman was sure that Tatiana could live without her, it's what most people did anyway. 

 

Mama?

 

Mama would grieve, as any loving mother would, but then she’d see how much of the woman was a lie. She;d see how selfish, how utterly terrible the omwna was, she’d see how the woman destroyed everything she touched and she’d know then that if was better the woman wasn't there at all. 

 

Papa?

 

He would mourn, as any strong father would. And then he would relieve what she had been, what she was, and he would fear her. Any magician worth their salt would fear her, it’s why she didn't tell them it all, it's why she did not reveal everything. It's Why the woman lived cloaked in lies. Because once they knew the truth, they'd leave her. That's what they always did. 

 

Cirro?

 

He saw her as a boss, not a friend, that's all she was, never a friend. Never, never, never. 

 

Elias? 

 

He was terrified of her, he rarely talked to her for fear of Void. Never a friend, always a martyr, always, always, always. 

 

Maia?

 

Maia knew nothing about her aside from her kidnapping her son, she had scolded the woman for that, yelled technically. The woman pretended it didn't hurt deep down when she was judged on her past rather than her present. The concept of growth, does it simply not apply to her? Is she supposed to be perfect? 

 

…

 

The woman lay there, on the table. 

 

It was cold.

 

Cold.

 

Cold like ice.

 

Morana?

 

No, Morana left her.

 

Anastasia?

 

Anastasia left her too. 

 

Cold.

 

Cold like the bodies.

 

Armand, Kate, Carmen. 

 

Too late.

 

Too late.

 

Always too late.

 

The woman sat up.

 

Her chest burned. 

 

Blood, bandages. Wrapped around her chest. Binding. 

 

Her heartbeat, it was still there.

 

Upsetting news. 

 

She swung her legs over the table, soft, silent, smooth.

 

People were strewn around her, asleep, lying on the sides of the surgical table. There were blankets scattered. Tearstained faces. 

 

The woman felt the urge to sing, maybe it would comfort them?

 

But then..

 

Was that all she was good for? To help others?

 

She was tired of it, when would someone help her?

 

When would she accept their help? 

 

…

 

The woman walked through the minefield of bodies. 

 

One step.

 

A shift.

 

Two steps.

 

A cry.

 

Three steps.

 

A movement.

 

Four steps. 

 

A sigh. 

 

Five steps.

 

And she was gone.

 

…

 

The woman walked to the Palace.

 

The beach had too many bad memories there, memories she wanted to keep far away.

 

The woman sensed the man behind her.

 

He wasn't quiet.

 

She walked unsteadily, knees buckling. 

 

The man lunged to grab at her a few times, she acted like she didn't hear it.

 

She just wanted to sit, for a time, and think. 

 

…

 

She sat down.

 

The top tower of the Palace.

 

Winding stairs led to it, she crawled through each staircase.

 

The man was behind her.

 

She curled against the pillar and sat there for a time.

 

The man kept watch, guarding, ever present. 

 

The man.

 

She should address him.

 

It would be polite.

 

Was she polite?

 

Was that another thing assigned to her?

 

She didn't think so, so she didn't say anything at all.

 

The man moved forward, she hummed the lullaby under her breath.

 

He choked on his next movement, faltering, dropping to a knee. 

 

The man moved closer to her, crawling, pleading for her to stop singing. 

 

Bela faced him with a smile, empty and void of life.

 

“Hi, Rowan.” 

 

…

 

Rowan lay beside Blea.

 

They talked for a time.

 

About life and creation, mistakes and sleep.

 

“I just want to sleep.” She admitted to him, overlooking the tall drop.

 

He pulled her back and asked her why.

 

“I used to sleep all the time as The Fabric, I don't think I’ve gotten used to being awake yet.” 

 

…

 

He admitted to her feeling like a mistake.

 

“Creation, Cirro, didn't mean to make me. I'm not supposed to exist.” 

 

She held his hand, his vines wrapped around her. 

 

“I am Creation in all measures,” she turned to him with sparkling teary eyes.

 

“You deserve to exist.” 

 

He cried, wailed, into her arms. She held him like a mother would their child. 

 

…

 

They walked back to the lab, they weren't smiling but there was something there.

 

A spark.

 

A will.

 

A want to live.

 

Maybe she could get used to being awake, maybe Rowan could teach her.

 

Maybe Rowan could accept he wasn't mistakenly made, maybe she could teach him. 

 

…

 

Johnny woke up, panicked, and rushed.

 

Where-

 

Bela.

 

Bela was there, she was sitting?

 

She was awake?!

 

He shot up, ripping himself from Ian's grasp on the floor. The other man woke up startled as well, Johnny found he didn't care for once. He practically ran at Bela, resisting the urge to tackle her in a hug in case he hurt her wound further. 

 

She didn't smile at him, but her eyes, they sparkled. Just a little, just enough. 

 

Fuck it.

 

He hugged her, she smelled like cinnamon. A scent she had always loved.

 

Why was it that she still smelled like it despite it all, not even the scent of blood or death clung to her.

 

Blood.

 

He jerked away expecting his ruined suit shirt to be stained with blood, there was none. He looked up, the bandages were gone. Bela was wearing a whole new outfit. A red robe, flowery and flowing and a red chemise. He stared at it, and then he laughed. 

 

How silly, such a detail to focus on, after such harrowing events. He laughed and laughed, and then he cried. He cried right into Bela’s waiting arms. She tucked him against her chest, like a mother would.

 

A mother he never had. 

 

It felt familiar despite it all, the warmth, the closeness, the comfort. Ian mumbled something nearby to Bela, she held out her arms and soon enough Ian was lying against Johnny’s back, smothered in Bela’s embrace. 

 

Her hair wasn't starry, it did not flow like smoke or liquid. Was that another thing that group had taken from her? 

 

The other stirred, quick and without grace. Bela let Ian go at his demand, Ian rushed over to thea stopping her from pulling her sword out and accidentally slashing Jasper with it. 

 

Soon enough the table was crowded as Bela welcomed everyone into her arms, it was only then Johnny noticed Rowan snuggled against her back, still sleeping despite it all. He wore something new as well. 

 

Wait, were those, heart boxers???

 

Johnny would have laughed had Rowan not woken up immediately after he noticed his attire and practically slammed Johnny back into the hug with his hand, Johnny unfortunately got a face full of collarbone, making Bela yelp and jerk back, everyone was pulled with her and soon enough they were all laid out of the table. Some half standing and others completely laid out. 

 

Rowan complained from where he was stuck under everyone, a consequence of his own actions, and someone laughed in response. One laugh, two laughs, three. The group burst into terrible unstable laughter, disjointed like an off key piano. 

 

—

Chapter 39: Thirty Nine

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Thea and Bela found themselves alone, almost a whole day later. After various talks, promises and otherwise avoidance of the fact that Bela tried to kill herself for a second time along with whatever she experienced during her time with her Uncle and Oleander, Bela and Thea were finally alone. 

 

Bela practically threw herself at Thea as soon as the door closed behind them. Vacante hadn't been in their room at all today, which was not strange, the woman preferred to take care of all her duties before indulging in anything. 

 

A strange woman that one.

 

Back on track however, Bela pushed herself against Thea, tilting up on her tiptoes and nipping incessantly at her lips. Biting and dragging their mouths together like a ship meeting a cliff. 

 

Thea placed her hands at Bela’s shoulders and pushed her back trying to breathe.

 

“Wait-”

 

Bela did not wait, and continued to try and press their lips together, her eyes squeezed shut as though she was terrified of opening them. 

 

“Love-” Their lips were mashed together again, thea pushed harder at Bela’s shoulders and separated them, she still didn't open her eyes. 

 

“Love, what has gotten into you?” Thea was worried, Bela had never been like this before. Needy and craving affection, sure she could be a bit of a PDA lover but never to this extent. 

 

“I-” Bela cut herself off with a sob and buried her face in Thea’s chest, hidden behind her armored breastplate. 

 

“Oh, Songbird, c’mere.” Thea held her close and led them to the large bed in the center of the room, placed on a raised platform. Bela lay against her, limp and tired, shaking like a leaf. Thea combed her hands through her hair, not near as long as it usually was. Bela’s sobs came to a stop after a time and she pulled back from Thea, moving to sit on the other side of the bed.

 

“Do you-” She cut herself off and bit her lip. Thea longed to wipe her tears, to bridge the gap between them, but she knew better. She allowed Bela her space, her moment to figure herself out without others smothering or directing her. 

 

“Do you love me? Am I some kind of replacement for you?” Thea blinked at her and moved slightly closer across the sheets, close enough to level a hand and place it directly beside her wife’s own, leaving her the chance to connect them. Bela linked their pinkies and sighed, tears dripped down her face like diamonds off a necklace. 

 

“I don't think of her anymore, my chance with her has long since passed. Instead I can have you instead, and I love it.” Bela looked at her clearly not expecting that answer, Thea longed to ask her if she thought of Thea as a replacement but if she did she would have never asked if Thea thought the same of her. Bela’s questions and doubts came from a place of love, no matter how much they hurt. And what was love without pain? 

 

“Really?”

 

“Would I lie to you, my Muse?”

 

“No, my Queen.”

 

“You have pledged your loyalty, your love to me, on our wedding day and night.”

 

Thea moved closer and placed a gentle hand at the curve of Bela’s neck, tracing the coursing veins under the skin. Her racing heartbeat like a rabbit under the gaze of a fox. Prey ready to be caught.

 

“Allow me to pledge mine to you, today and tonight.” 

 

 Bela stared at her, eyes glazed with tears. Her eyebrows furrowed and lips agape. She was picture perfect, a true Muse. Thea couldnt think of anything to rival the beauty in front of her. She must have been carved by Lady Aphrodite herself. 

 

She gasped, and nodded, slow and languid. Thea took her arms and traced them up both her arms, perfect and free of scars. Not for long. She leaned in and whispered into Bela’s red burning ears. “Take your glamor off?” 

 

Bela hesitated, she knew this was a question, she didn't have to fulfill it. But she longed so terribly to be seen for all that she was and to not be turned away. With shaking hands she rested her own on top of Thea’s and sighed, she felt more than saw her glamor drop. 

 

Slow, gentle, warm. 

 

It was like every sensation was amplified with it gone. How long had it been since she felt any touch against her true self and not the illusionary glamor she had been keeping up to hide her imperfections. 

 

She sighed into Thea’s neck, shaky and warm. Thea hummed and bundled her closer in their facsimile of a hug. Bela shifted her arms, tugging them out from the hug to wrap around Thea’s back and reach behind her. With a simple twist of her fingers Thea’s crown vanished in a fine blue mist. Her hair fell down in soft curled ringlets from its bun placement. Dripping down her back like liquid gold. 

 

Thea began to move them, carefully, keeping her neck tucked against Bela’s ear through it all. She laid Bela down in the middle of the silk sheets, her hair spilling out under her. Her skin felt like it was on fire. She was terribly embarrassed by the whine she let out when Thea left her neck and hovered over her fully. 

 

“I wanna look at you.” Bela resisted the urge to curl up and hide, she had never been this exposed before, sure they've had sex before but never like this. Never where she had been admired, where she had received. It had always been her doing everything, she didn't know how to react with someone else touching her without her control and command. 

 

She huffed and threw her head to the side, her neck stretched and exposed itself. Like a cat showing its belly she trusted Thea with her most vulnerable parts. Thea pushed her face back from where it hid in the sheets and centered it to look directly into Thea’s eyes.

 

‘Let me look at you, please?” Bela faltered, Thea’s eyes showed nothing but love. She felt tears build in her eyes embarrassingly fast. Thea really did love her…

 

“Alright.” It was said gentle, like a whisper and a warning all in one. Thea responded by shifting her body to hover on all fours over Bela’s body, She traced her eyes around her face.

 

Her eyes, her eyebrows, her smile lines, her lips, her deep eyebags, and the faint nicks of childhood times long past, the small freckles that only ghosted the bridge of her nose, the imperfections Bela hid. 

 

She looked further down then.

 

Her neck.

 

Scarred and nearly a pale white from all the built up tough tissue. Pink pines and jagged white starburst, scratched out freckles and stitched surgical lines, strong veins and tendons. Flexing, she was nervous. 

 

Her chest.

 

Nicks and freckles marked the skin, small moles on the swell of her chest. Hidden beneath a red chemise. The same one she had been wearing since the lab. 

 

Her arms.

 

Nicks and scars, laced and winding, short and long in equal measures. Bites and shrapnel marks, no freckles marked the skin here. It remained almost untouched. 

 

Her legs.

 

Trembling, shaking, slight movements like a leaf in the autumn air. Scars, sunspots and moles, small circular bug bites long gone but since scarred over and left waiting. Old memories now forever etched into skin. 

 

Her eyes trailed back up, slow, steady, loving.

 

Bela was crying by the time she locked eyes with her again. She leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to her face, wiping away her tears with flicks of her tongue. Bela began to laugh at the butterfly sensation, and a thought reached Thea’s head. She pulled back and once she was sure the tears were gone she brought their noses together, rubbing them back and forth.

 

Butterfly kisses.

 

Love, in Bela’s eyes.

 

The highest promise and order of affection. 

 

Bela laughed light, like she used to, no heaviness now. Thea pulled back and smiled at her, gentle, slow and sweet like syrup. Bela looked at her, she laid her arms down from where they had been hanging behind Thea’s neck. And placed them at both sides of her head, she smiled at Thea’s and showed her neck.

 

Vulnerable.

 

Ripe for the taking.

 

Thea breathed in slowly and shifted where she hovered, hands resting gently at Bela’s wrists and tracing her palms with calloused fingers. Bela gasped at the feeling, it was like liquid fire racing down her arms straight to her gut, Gods how touchstarved was she?!

 

Thea remained ever so oblivious, tracing the life line of Bela’shand and wrapping fingers around her own, lacing them together and dragging her hand back down to settle at Bela’s wrist. Bela huffed slowly, careful with her reactions, keeping them in check. No matter how bright her face was she refused to start moaning over something as simple as her hands being played with. 

 

Thea traced her way down Bela’s arms, settling her lower body until she sat directly on top of Bela’s clothed abdomen. She traced the veins of Bela’s arms, barely able to be seen, and leaned down to place kisses against the pulse point of each wrist. Bela gasped at the feeling and flushed in embarrassment. 

 

She wasn't some blushing maiden for the Gods sake! She refused to act like one. 

 

Thea pulled back from her wrist, and leaned down placing a sweet kiss on Bela’s forehead. As she did so she carefully took off her leather armored skirt and breastplate, tossing them to the side of the bedroom to be dealt with later. Bela stared at her as she pulled back, her mouth was open slightly and she looked as though she couldn't believe what was happening at all. Thea smiled at her and leaned down once more to trace a path of kisses down her right arm, the one she favored. 

 

Bela closed her eyes, a terrible idea really, it just amplified the sensations more. She almost moaned at the feeling of Thea’s mouth on her skin, almost. She bit her lip and it came out as more of a whimper. Still embarrassing, but manageable. Thea smiled against her skin, Bela shifted under her weight, legs bending and drawing closer to herself. 

 

Thea continued her path of kisses, stopping at her pulse point to bite and suck. Bela moaned and threw her other hand directly onto her mouth after, eyes wide open and face scarlet red. Thea smiled into her skin and kissed her palm, tracing the lines with her tongue. Every touch felt like fire. Bela couldn't handle it at all. 

 

She whined under her palm, eyebrows twitching up in a desperate image. Her eyes switch between  widening and narrowing in pleasure. So many sensations, so little adjustment. She couldn't keep up. Her body shifted again, legs tucking up further. Thea’s own stopped them from moving any further, and there she was, trapped. Like a butterfly on display. 

 

Thea pulled back from her palm, a smile, her tongue peeking out from it. Bela whimpered again at the sight. Thea smiled again and laned down placing her face directly above the muck of her scars. She breathed against Bela’s neck, hot. Bela jerked her head back into the sheets, her neck stretching up to bump against Thea’s lips. She moaned loudly and clutched at the sheets with her free hand. 

 

Thea reached a hand up and gently pulled Bela’s own off her mouth, against the thick of her neck Thea muttered.

 

“Let me hear you.” 

 

Bela nodded shakily, eyes glazed and hazy. Her hair swirled under her like smoke, stars peeked through the dark curls. Bright and twinkling. Thea smiled against her neck and began to trace her scars with her tongue. Bela’s legs kicked out on instinct before curling back into the sheets, her breath heavy and labored. She clutched at the sheets by her head with both hands as she stretched her neck to provide more material for Thea to work with. 

 

Thea lavished her neck with attention, licking and sucking at the skin like a woman starved. As though bela was meal for her to devour, the thought sent heat rushing down Bela’s gut and she clenched her thighs together, whining all the while. Thea smiled into her skin and huffed a hot breath on it, pulling back slightly.

 

“Patience, my Queen.” 

 

If she wasn't turned on already, the nickname alone would have done it.

 

This was it, this was where Bela would die, suffocating under the attention of her wife. 

 

She twisted the sheets in her grasp, tugging them down toward her head. Thea laughed into her neck and shifted down her body. Nudging at the lace of her chemise top with her nose.

 

“Take this off?” A question, not an order. Bela could choose this, Bela could take back control. Bela didn't want to though. 

 

“You do it.” Breathed out, heavy, an order. Thea nipped at the swell of her chest and Bela yelped, jerking under her hold. Thea smiled at just how sensitive her wife was, she was going to enjoy this. 

 

Slowly, and just to drag it out more and tease Bela, Thea brough her hands down clothed hips and thighs. Tugging lightly at the hem, a question, but no really. Thea already had her answer. Bela groaned and twisted the sheets harder as Thea tugged it again.

 

“Please?” She whined, Thea acquiesced, grabbing the dress by the lace hem and dragging it up her body. Using her other hand to lift a move Bela’s form on the bed until the chemise came off and was thrown to the ground. Discarded to likely never be seen again, at least if Thea had anything to say about it. That dress would be a bedroom only thing on her watch. 

 

She brought herself back up to Bela’s chest, surprisingly, or unsparingly. She wasn't wearing a bra. Oh well, Thea thought, easy access. She reached a hand up and traced the cup of Bela’s chest. Balancing both boobs in a hand, and just feeling the skin there. She sat back and continued to grope at her wife. Who groaned and whined under her, pleading for something that she had yet to ask for. 

 

Thea waited, she continued to touch, she waited some more and-

 

There.

 

“Please, please, use your mouth.” 

 

‘My mouth?”

 

“Uhn. Yes, just, bite me!” 

 

“Alright, my Queen.” 

 

Bela whined again at the nickname, it sparked a deep flame in her gut. One she knew wouldn't be quenched for a while. Thea leaned down and began to nip at the swell of Bela’s breast, where her moles lay. She liked and sucked at the skin, marking her way through the middle before coming back up and picking a boob to start on. Wrapping her lips around the right nipple, she curled her fingers around the other and began a deliberate pace. Slow, steady. Sweet and languid. 

 

Everything Bela didn't want. 

 

But everything she needed. 

 

After a few moments of Bela whining and writhing in her grasp she pulled off and began to treat the other nipple the same, tugging and pinching the one she had left behind with her fingers. Bela shifted some more under her, desperate to be touched where she needed it most. Thea would make her wait for it though. 

 

She wanted the woman to know how much she adored her, and what better way than through a worship of her own Goddess? 

 

Slowly Thea made her way off her chest and began to lavish her stomach in the same treatment as her neck. Licking and tracing the scars with her tongue, peppering the moles and freckles with kisses, tracing the tanline with her fingers and pinching at the skin. 

 

Bela moaned, she looked worthy of the title ‘hot mess’ completely ruffled and frazzled. Hair a mess, smoking and floating around her, little wisps breaking off to float around her in starry constellations. White markings on her skin began to show again, to glow in the dim of the room. Face completely red and blushing, eyes scrunched in pleasure and nearly heart shaped pupils appearing in the blue glowing iris. 

 

Ducking down, Thea found herself face to face with the lace of Bela’s underwear. She looked up at her wife, a worthwhile mess, wrecked beyond repair and completely out of it. She tapped two times at her hip, and grinned in response to Bela’s long whine.

 

“Yes, yes, yes, just take them off already!” 

 

With a predatory grin, Thea hooked her teeth in the lace hem and began to drag them off and down her legs, leaving them to dangle helplessly over a single ankle. She didn't have the patience to take them off fully, Bela could just kick them off anyway. 

 

Crawling her way back up Bela's body, Thea found herself face to face with Bela’s cunt. Soaking wet and dripping, she smiled at what she’d done to the other woman. A job well done she'd say. She traced her hands up and down Bela’s inner thighs and just when she saw Bela rise up to order her around she struck.

 

She ducked down and licked a broad stripe up Bela’s dripping heat, the other woman faltered and fell down onto the bed, moaning loudly. Smiling against her Thea brought a hand up and began to tease at her fluttering entrance. She licked around the heat in front of her, choosing to avoid sucking on her clit and licking into her like she knew Bela wanted her to do. 

 

Eventually she tired of this game, she knew Bela wasn't going to break, better to break her first. 

 

She slipped a finger in easily, pumping it in and out, scissoring and slicing her way through the thick and tight heat of Bela’s pussy. Bela moaned and whined, trashing above her, incoherent words mumbled out through her mother tongue. 

 

“My Queen.” She gasped out against Bela’s clit, her hot breath against the tender flesh. Bela came with a shout, her fluids covering Thea’s hands almost completely, she licked them away without shame, sucking on Bela’s clit and drenched heat until she was clean and twitching above her. 

 

Tracing a hand down her legs she began to place tender kisses down the scarred flesh, tracing them wth her tongue and muttering words of love and affirmation in her mother tongue against the heated skin. Bela lay above her still twitching and whining with each touch, soon enough she was begging Thea to eat her out again. 

 

And Thea?

 

She acquiesced.

 

“Anything for my Queen.” 

 

…

 

Bela and Thea lay in the tangled sheets, the sun setting and Thea’s hair an almost equal mess matching Bela’s own starry hair. She had yet to notice the comeback of her markings and stars, caught up in what the woman beside her had been doing to her. She sighed against Thea’s chest and settled herself ontop of the woman, leeching her heat off of her like a welcome parasite. 

 

“Love.”

 

Thea stirred and reached a gentle hand to brush through Bela’s starry locks. 

 

“I think I need help.” 

 

‘With what. Name it and I’ll do it.” 

 

“Do you think-”

 

Bela bit her lip, terribly nervous, but she had already been vulnerable with thea again. She knew she could trust her deeply. 

 

“Do you have a therapist here?” Thea processed the question and nodded.

 

‘Yes, in fact, we have a whole division for our warriors. I, myself, have seen them often. Especially after those harder conquests.” 

 

Bela laid there and considered her words, looking up into thea’s green eyes.

 

“Do you think..” She trailed off and snuggled closer to Thea’s naked warmth.

 

“Could you set an appointment for me?” 

 

“My Queen,” She raised Bela’s hand from under the blankets and kissed it as though they were meeting for the first time, “I would do anything for you.” 

 

—

Chapter 40: Fourty

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

“Belladonna Dumitrescu. Correct.”

 

“Yes ma'am.” 

 

“Oh, no need to be so formal here, after all I’m not that much older than you. twenty -Five correct.”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“I’m only Twenty-Nine myself.” 

 

“Ah! You look wonderful, I thought you were younger than me actually!”

 

“Ah, what a charmer.” 

 

“Well, shall we get into it.” 

 

“Of course, start away.” 

 

“Well, I usually start with icebreakers so if you'd like you can tell me some fun facts about you.” 

 

“...”

 

“Is that a bit much to start with?”

 

“No, it's just..”

 

“I don't know many ‘fun facts’ to give. I've never been asked this before.”

 

“Ah. I suppose we can start with that.”

 

“What do you like, Belladonna?”

 

“Bela.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I prefer to be called Bela.”

 

“Oh! My apologies, Bela.” 

 

“It's alright, I should have clarified.” 

 

“No, no, I should have asked, I usually do but I suppose it slipped my mind.” 

 

“It's quite alright.” 

 

“Well, Bela, what do you like?”

 

“...”

 

“I suppose, I like dancing.”

 

“You suppose?” 

 

“No, I'm sure. I like dancing.”

 

“Alright, that's a start. I've personally never been a very good dancer.” 

 

“I could teach you one day if you'd like.”

 

“How sweet of you, do you enjoy helping people?”

 

“It's what I'm here for.”

 

“What does that mean?” 

 

“What else am I here for, if not to help?”

 

“Hm.” 

 

‘Why are you writing that down?” 

 

“It's just something to note, no worries, alright?” 

 

“Alright..”

 

“Well you enjoy dancing, any other hobbies.”

 

“Baking.”

 

“Ooh , a nice hobby to have, have you baked anything recently?”

 

“No. I..”

 

“Haven't had the time?”

 

“No, I, I haven't had the energy to do it I guess.” 

 

“Ah, understandable for someone in your position.”

 

“Now, Bela, what do you dislike?” 

 

“...”

 

“Would you like to skip this question?”

 

“...Can I answer it another day?”

 

“Of course!” 

 

“Well, our time should be coming to a close soon. May I give you something to think about, maybe some homework to do?” 

 

“Sure! What is it?”

 

“I want you to make a list of things you like about yourself, just a few things, only three. And bring it to me tomorrow at Noon. Can you do that?”

 

“I-I think so.” 

 

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then, have a wonderful day Bela.” 

 

“You as well.” 

 

—

 

The afternoon sky over Rowan's hometown was thick with gray clouds, casting a somber shadow across the village. A few stragglers lingered outside, their movements slow and familiar, as they went about their usual routine of selling and bartering. Most had already retreated to their homes, driven indoors by the looming thunderstorm. The electric scent of rain hung in the air, filling Maia’s senses as she marched through the town with purpose, her mind set on the task at hand. In one hand, she clutched a crumpled list of groceries and errands.

"Let’s see…"

She scanned her handwritten notes, mouthing each item:

• Eggs
• Buy Rowan more fried pickles
• Potatoes
• Butter
• Milk
• Knife

Satisfied, she grinned to herself—everything was accounted for. Only one final task remained, and it was far more important than any grocery list:

Bring them together.

Her eyes sparkled with determination as she snapped her fingers, instantly transporting herself to the forest. Cirro was there, just as she expected, standing by the riverbank. He stared into the water with a distant, solemn gaze, his hand absently stirring the surface while his tail lazily swept back and forth. His eyes were a very pale yellow, almost translucent. The moment Maia appeared, he felt her presence and jolted upright, preparing to flee. But before he could even think of escaping, Maia grabbed his ear with a swift motion and tugged him along, humming a cheerful tune as if his protests were nothing but background noise.

"OWWWW! WHAT THE—?" Cirro yelped, his face scrunched in pain.

Maia, completely unfazed by his outburst, let her bags of groceries float beside her with a casual flick of her fingers. In an instant, they were enveloped in white light, transported to the ethereal, pristine space that Cirro and Elias now called home. The tranquility of the space was stark, but what caught Maia’s attention was Elias—curled into a tight ball, shivering. The tension in the air was palpable, and Cirro’s face hardened as he averted his gaze. Since the night of the solstice, the two hadn’t spoken, hadn’t looked at one another, hadn’t even acknowledged each other’s presence.

Maia wasted no time. With the same unyielding force, she seized Elias by the ear, pulling him up despite his groans of pain.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MA—!" Elias snarled, but stopped short. He could feel the seething anger radiating from Maia, even as she smiled serenely.

Ignoring their protests, she snapped her fingers again, and with a sudden flash, they found themselves inside her and Brutus’s room. Cirro and Elias paused for a moment, their eyes widening at the beauty of it. The soft yellow curtains shimmered with warmth, and delicate butterflies adorned the walls, fluttering lightly in the gentle breeze from an open window. The king-sized bed in the center of the room was split in color—sunny yellow on one side, a rich earthy brown on the other, clearly marking Brutus’s territory. The scent of vanilla and wood filled the air, contrasting but harmonizing perfectly, creating a space that was both inviting and deeply comforting.

Both Cirro and Elias stared at Maia in confusion. Cirro, still trying to wriggle out of her grasp, finally spoke, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Why are we… here?”

Maia stood silent for a moment, her gaze distant, as if lost in thought. When she finally answered, her voice was firm, but a hint of sorrow lingered.

“You’re going to talk to each other. I’m sick of you two avoiding your feelings because of what happened to me.”

Her eyes drifted to her wings, now altered from their former glory. She touched them with a soft, sad expression, still adjusting to the strange, new sensation.

“B-but—” Elias stammered, his voice faltering as he exchanged a nervous glance with Cirro.

Before he could finish, Maia released her grip, letting them both drop to the floor with a thud. She dusted her hands off, looking down at them as they scrambled to their feet.

“No buts! This is your chance to say what you need to,” she commanded, her hands resting firmly on her hips. Her tail flicked back and forth, betraying her irritation.

Cirro and Elias avoided each other’s eyes, turning their backs in unison. Their shared reluctance hung heavy in the air.

“I… can’t,” they both whispered under their breath, the weight of those two words full of sorrow and regret.

Maia let out an exasperated sigh, reaching into one of her grocery bags. She pulled out a knife, the blade catching the soft glow of the room. Both Cirro and Elias’s eyes went wide with horror.

“What are you—” Elias began, his voice rising in panic.

Maia looked at them both, her face hardening with resolve.

“If you two won’t do this,” she said, her voice deadly calm, “I leave this as an ultimatum.”

With a swift motion, she sliced the air, and in a single stroke, she cut off a large section of her hair. Strands of pale yellow locks floated delicately to the ground, glimmering in the soft light as Cirro and Elias stood frozen, mouths agape in shock.

The severed bundles fell to the floor, creating a small pile of golden curls at her feet. Both of them glanced from the hair to Maia, disbelief etched on their faces.

“Oops! I took off a bit much, huh?” she said with a nervous laugh, running her fingers through the remains of her now shortened hair. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the door, opening it with a swift motion.

Just before leaving, she paused and looked over her shoulder, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

“If I don’t hear some makeout noises… you’re both going to see me bald,” she teased, her voice light yet commanding.

With that, she slammed the door shut, leaving the two of them standing in stunned silence, staring at the heap of hair on the floor.

 

…

 

Silence hung heavy in the room, thick enough to drown out even the distant rumble of thunder. Cirro could hear the faint clinking of pots and plates from somewhere in the house, a medley of unfamiliar smells wafting through the air—fragrances that were foreign yet oddly comforting. He tried to maintain his hardened expression, determined to stay resolute, but curiosity gnawed at him. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, and his chest tightened at the sight.

Elias was kneeling on the floor, gently picking up strands of Maia's hair with trembling hands. Silent black tears streaked down his face, dripping onto the pile of pale yellow locks as he desperately grasped at them, his hands shaking as if trying to hold onto something that was already gone. Cirro’s expression faltered, and he shifted toward him, closing the space between them. Without thinking, he lifted Elias’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Why are you… crying?” Cirro’s voice was soft, almost pleading. He hated seeing Elias like this, so fragile, so broken. As beautiful as Elias was—like a star exploding into cosmic dust—it pained Cirro to see him unravel. He would do anything to take that pain away, to stop the hurt swirling in those dark eyes.

“You know why!” Elias’s voice rose suddenly, anger laced with despair. As he spoke, the sky responded, thunder crashing outside, amplifying the storm that raged between them. Cirro instinctively pulled back, fear flashing in his eyes at the force of Elias's outburst.

Elias’s breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as he turned away, ashamed of the look on Cirro’s face.

“I caused it… I caused your beauty to be cut off” His voice broke, thick with emotion. “I caused Maia to lose her wings, and now her hair too?!” He shuddered, unable to look at Cirro.

Cirro was stunned. How could Elias blame himself for that? The thought alone was unbearable. Void? They were nothing but chains, restrictions placed on them by forces they couldn’t control. Cirro would rather die than see Elias consumed by such guilt.

With slow, deliberate movements, Cirro rose to his feet and moved closer, his tail softly brushing against Elias’s in a gesture of comfort. Elias’s tear-streaked face finally met his gaze, filled with a sorrow that made Cirro’s heart ache.

“Destruction… is needed with creation,” Cirro whispered gently, cupping Elias’s face with both hands, wiping away the dark streaks of his tears. His fingers felt warm against Elias’s cold skin, and Elias melted into the touch. How long had it been since he felt such warmth? He craved it, every molecule of Cirro’s hand, like the softness of silk against his skin.

Cirro smiled, seeing Elias’s breathing slow, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.

“Remember… that time we had to send that old mush lady to the afterlife?” Cirro asked softly.

Elias’s eyes flickered with recognition, the memory flooding back. He nodded, listening as Cirro spoke, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

“She was so old… you could see the years etched into her soul, not just her skin. Her mind was already slipping away…” Cirro’s gaze lowered, his tone turning somber. “Old people have a way of sensing us when the time comes. I still remember what she said to us that day.”

Cirro smirked at the memory.

“She looked up at us and said, ‘Are you finally here to take me away? I’ve had enough.’”

A soft chuckle escaped both of them, a small moment of lightness breaking through the sorrow. Elias let out a shaky laugh, wiping the lingering tears from his face.

“Ha… you were so shocked,” Cirro teased, his smile growing. “You tried so hard to talk her out of it, telling her how much her family would miss her…”

“But,” Cirro continued, his voice growing softer as he leaned closer to Elias, their foreheads gently touching, “she said something that should’ve stuck with you more.”

Their eyes met, dark as the midnight sky, and Cirro’s voice dropped to a whisper, pulling Elias deeper into the memory they now shared.

-

“You can’t leave, not yet! Your family will miss you, old lady. Why not live forever with this guy around?” Elias had shouted, frustration and confusion coloring his words.

The old woman had silenced him with a soft touch, her frail hand resting on his—colder than anything he’d ever known.

“Young mush…” she smiled, a tender, tired smile that carried the weight of a lifetime. “I don’t wish to live any longer. I’ve had my time on this planet… seen my grandchildren grow, watched my daughter get married… I’ve thanked life enough for this one.”

Her other hand, shaking but steady, rested on Elias’s cheek as she looked into his eyes, her voice full of peace.

“Now… it’s time to thank you.”

Elias’s eyes had filled with tears as he felt the gentle weight of her gratitude. The old woman had closed her eyes, a soft smile still on her lips, and passed away with a sigh.

-

As the memory faded, Elias lifted his head, his face crumpling under the weight of emotion. Tears spilled from his eyes, falling to the floor like rain. With a broken sob, he collapsed to his knees, unable to hold back the flood of grief and guilt any longer.

Cirro pulled Elias into a tight embrace, his heart racing with a mixture of fear and determination. He knew the risks they were taking, the trouble they’d get into for defying the Void’s warnings. But he didn’t care. All that mattered was being close to Elias—he wanted to hear his sarcastic remarks again, feel the chill of his cold hand intertwined with his, catch the subtle glances from his dark, watchful eyes, and listen to his soft snores as he slept beside him. Nothing else mattered. Not his tail, not his hair, not even his life. He wanted Elias—more than ever.

Gently, Cirro lifted Elias’s tear-stained face and pressed his lips to his in a deep, tender kiss. It was soft but full of unspoken emotion, more than words could convey. Elias, caught off guard, tried to speak through the kisses, his voice coming out in a breathless murmur.

“Wait—” He softly pushed Cirro back, his breath coming in huffs as a deep blush crept over his cheeks.

“What about what Void said? The punishment…? We’re not meant to be. We’ll destroy each other…” Elias whispered, his voice shaking as he looked away, doubt clouding his gaze.

But Cirro wouldn’t let him retreat. He grabbed Elias closer, their faces just inches apart, and spoke with fierce conviction.

“I don’t care.”

“What—” Elias began, his eyes wide.

“I don’t care, Elias. I love you. More than a supernova, more than the Big Bang, more than the universe I’ve created.” Cirro’s voice trembled, not with fear, but with the depth of his feelings, raw and real.

Elias’s tears flowed again, but this time, they weren’t born of sorrow or guilt. His eyes twinkled with an unfamiliar glow, something brighter, lighter. It was as if a great weight had lifted off his chest. Could Cirro really love him this much? Would he really risk everything for him?

Cirro didn’t hesitate. He took Elias’s hands in his, pulling him closer before kissing him again, more tenderly this time. Their bodies pressed tightly together, hearts pounding in sync as emotions exploded within them. Cirro kissed him like he was trying to map every inch of his soul, exploring every corner, every hidden part of him.

Elias melted into the warmth of Cirro’s embrace, his own hands finding their way to Cirro’s hair, feeling the soft strands as their tails intertwined in an intricate dance. He couldn’t get enough of him—Cirro’s warmth, his soft hair, the way their contrasting elements of heat and cold fused into something electric, something whole.

As they held each other tighter, Elias felt the overwhelming flood of happiness rise within him, something he hadn’t felt in so long. The Void's warnings faded into the background, drowned out by the sound of their heartbeats and the rush of pure love. For the first time in ages, Elias smiled, feeling truly alive in Cirro’s arms.

Both of them pulled apart, gasping for breath, their eyes clouded with lust and affection. The air between them thickened with desire, yet there was an underlying warmth that softened the moment. Elias, his mischievous side taking over, decided to seize this opportunity. With a playful grin, he pounced on Cirro, causing him to yelp as Elias began leaving a trail of kisses from his face down to his neck.

Cirro laughed, squirming beneath him. “Get off! That tickles!” His laughter rang out, bright and full of life, a sound Elias had desperately missed. Hearing it again filled Elias with a sense of satisfaction and joy. He wanted to keep Cirro this happy, to never lose him again.

Their faces drew closer, the heat between them rising as Elias's gaze grew more intense, full of longing. Cirro, blushing a deep golden hue, squinted and averted his eyes shyly, though the smile on his face didn’t fade.

“Maybe later, hm?” Cirro teased with a smirk. “I don’t feel comfortable doing this in Maia’s room.” His eyes playfully glanced around, and Elias suddenly realized where they were again. His nervous chuckle echoed in the room as he shifted, sitting up with a sheepish grin.

Cirro crawled closer, gently caressing Elias’s face with his finger. “Besides… you still owe me,” he murmured, his words dripping with playful intent.

Elias tensed up, expecting something serious. “Owe you…what?”

Cirro grinned widely, his teasing nature in full swing. “You still have to take me out on a date, silly!”

Elias froze in disbelief. Did a god really just edge him like that? The nerve. His lips curled into a playful frown as he stood and wrapped his arms around Cirro from behind.

“I’m going to destroy your bed for this,” Elias dramatically threatened, his voice deep and full of faux indignation.

Cirro smirked, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh yeah, truffle? I’m t he god of creation— I’ll just make a new one.”

Their playful banter filled the room as they wrestled, roughhousing with laughter, each teasing word laced with affection. Eventually, after their giggles subsided, they stood up, still catching their breath, and left the room together.

Elias and Cirro descended the creaky wooden stairs, their steps perfectly in sync as their tails intertwined in a tender display of affection. The warmth between them was palpable, their bond growing stronger with each shared glance. Downstairs, Maia hummed a familiar tune as she stirred the final pot of her signature gratin, a small blush dusting her cheeks as she thought back to what had just transpired in her room. She had heard everything .

As she finished, the door swung open, and Rowan stepped inside, removing his smock and goggles, tossing them onto the table. His tail wagged in excitement at the sight of the fried pickles Maia had picked up for him.

"Yes! Thank you, Ma! I needed these so badly," Rowan exclaimed, already tossing one into his mouth. But as he looked up, his chewing slowed, his eyes widening in shock.

Standing there was Maia—sporting a brand new pixie cut, her ears twitching as she adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation.

Rowan froze, eyes bulging, as he sputtered and choked on his snack. With a sharp inhale, he pointed dramatically at her, yelling, 

 

"WHO THE FUCK CUT MY MOM’S HAIR?!"

Silence hung thick in the air for a split second.

Cirro and Elias, eyes wide, immediately shared a glance of pure panic. Without a word, they turned on their heels and quietly shuffled back up the stairs. In one swift move, they teleported out of sight, not daring to stick around for what was surely about to become a nuclear-level Rowan meltdown.

 

Maia sighed as she prepared a takeout box to send to them later. 

 

—

 

Bela hummed as she walked through the halls, empty. Surprisingly empty. 

She looked down at the empty list in her hands.

 

Empty.

 

She sighed.

 

This task shouldnt be too hard. So why was it being so troublesome with her. She was rather annoyed, all things considered. Her hair shifted like flowing water in the air around her and she walked down the halls with light fleeting steps. 

 

She thought briefly of-

 

No.

 

She stopped moving and looked behind her, the palace halls stared back. 

 

Was this real?

 

Was it all fake?

 

Again?

 

She shook her head and pressed her fingers to her pulse point, being here wasn't helping and neither was this stupid list. She needed to get away but if she did that she’d have to tell everyone or else they'd think she got kidnapped again.

 

She didn't want to deal with their worry, in fact she couldn't deal with their worry.

 

She refused to. 

 

She threw the list to the side and it burst into flames, bright blue flames. 

 

She tried to think of happy thoughts, but they were so far and few inbetween. 

 

Happy. 

 

Could she ever be happy again?

 

She wanted to be, she had to be.

 

Sighing she whirled around, velvet skirts swirling around legs. And she stalked back the way she came. 

 

Empty, empty halls stared back at her.

 

So why did it feel like she was being watched? 

 

Chapter 41: Fourty One

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Vacanate stood behind a pillar in the hallway Bela had just begun to walk down.

 

She stood pressed against the marble, carved and ornate. 

 

She peeked out from behind it and-

 

“Boo!” 

 

Vacanate jerked back, Bela stood behind her, grinning like a cheshire cat. 

 

“Did I scare you?” Her bow moved with each tilt of her head, it was styled in a ponytail today. Vacante tried her best not to look down though, Bela had a rather distracting chest window in her dress of the day. 

 

“I-” 

 

“I know, I know, you ‘dont get scared’ and all that?” Vacantae was in fact not going to say that. What she was going to do was excuse herself so she could avoid her wives in peace. They couldnt know her actions. They'd hate her, they'd curse her, they'd never forgive her. Forgiveness, a human concept. Forgiveness, not granted to beings like her. 

 

“Vacantae.” Bela dragged out the name, sounded out every syllable and stepped forward with a  soft smile. Rather than a manic and blinding one. Vacanate stumbled back, her toga catching her step and she fell. 

 

An arm caught her around the waist, lifting her easily. She was brought back to a standing position. Carefully. A giggling voice. A soft one, full of love and care. Care that should not be directed at a creature such as her. Creatures deserve no care. Monsters don't get happy endings. 

 

“Careful there darling.” She rested both her hands at Vacantes waist and stood on the tips of her platform heels, resting her chin on Vacantae’s chest. 

 

She smiled at Vacantae, the taller woman felt a terrible feeling swirling in her gut. Heavy and weighing her down. Suffocating as though she couldn't breathe. What was this?

 

Her face shifted, her eyebrows furrowed, she frowned. 

 

Bela tilted her head at her, eyebrows knitting together as she leaned her arms up to drape them over Vacante’s shoulders. 

 

“Love, what's wrong, you look worried.” 

 

Vacantae moved back and carefully took Bela’s arms off of her.

 

“My-” She faltered, she should not falter, not in a moment like this. 

 

She would voice her sins as all those who had sat before her, and she would accept her punishment as did all those that had come to her. 

 

Grabbing at Bela’s hand they vanished in a column of smoke, dark and shadowed. 

 

…

 

The Temple of Serenity had two faces. 

 

This was not well known. 

 

It was known only by two.

 

The Fabric and The Void. 

 

…

 

The Temple of Serenity had two faces for two jobs.

 

The Temple or Serenity : to provide audience for The Fabric 

 

The Temple of Discord : to provide punishment for one's Sins against The Fabric’s Laws. 

 

…

 

The Temple of Discord stood tall, imposing. 

 

Made of black volcanic ash and obsidian glass, reflections cast from every corner of the room. The sinner would be forced to see their face, their guilt, no matter where they looked. 

 

The Temple of Discord had three levels. For three judgements. Three possible Sins. 

 

One : Sins against a Mortal.

 

Two : Sins against a God.

 

Three : Sins against The Fabric. 

 

Each level contained certain possible punishments. All varying depending on The Fabric’s mood and the level of Sin.

 

Due to her status Vacantae could avoid voicing her Sin to the guardian statues outside, but she could not avoid voicing them before The Fabric. 

 

She transported them to the third floor, the highest offense, the largest Sin. The worst Order to face. 

 

Bela stood before her, staring at the Temple of Discord in confusion. She turned around, her back to Vacantae. Vacantae studied her, for this may be the last time she gets to admire her love. Her Universe, in full glory, a gift to see before everything faded. 

 

“Vacantae?” 

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why are we here?”

 

Vacantae knelt down, exposing the nape of her neck to Bela, Bela stepped back at the sight. Worry etched on her face. 

 

“Vacantae, you're scaring me.” 

 

“I have,” she swallowed thickly, tears building in her milky eyes, “committed Sins against you, My Universe.” 

 

Bela stood before her eyes wide. 

 

“No.”

 

“I have. I have done terrible-”

 

“No.”

 

“No. no. no. no. no. no. no.” 

 

Bela stumbled back as she held her head. Whirlwinds of emotion. Rage? Love? Hatred? Despair? She couldn't tell them apart anymore. It was just one big thing and it spilled out in a  stream of denials. 

 

“I have!” Vacantae snapped, her head shooting up, tears streaming down her face.

 

“I have placed Rules of my own, above your Laws. I have misguided and mutilated, hurt and robbed. I have targeted any Gods who go against my Rules, I have targeted any Mortals who go against them, I have punished people unfairly. It is time for my punishment as recompense.” 

 

Bela placed shaking hands over her face, a singular eye peeking through her hands. 

 

Vacanate thought she looked terrifying.

 

Beautiful beyond human perception.

 

A goddess, close to breaking. 

 

“State your Sins. Tell me what you have done.” 

 

Vacantae looked at The Fabric, this was no longer Bela, she was longer smiling. 

 

It was time for her judegment. 

Cutting off an Angel’s wings - Offense Level 2

 

Attempting to kill Creation - Offense Level 8

 

Attempting to kill Destruction - Offense Level 8

 

Attempting to kill The Favored - Offense Level 9

 

Murder of an Angel - Offense Level 3

 

Murder of Twelve Gods - Offense Level 9

 

Murder of The Law of Order - Offense Level 8

…

 

The Fabric stood before her, shadowed face, hidden in the darkness of The Temple of Discord. 

 

Her dress was gone. 

 

She was regaled with pearls, stringing over her chest. A long cloth skirt draping down her hips, slits exposing her legs. Pairs of large wings, painted with stars were behind her. Two pairs behind her back, large and imposing, a third covering her eyes from view.

 

She was frowning.

 

This was most notable.

 

The Fabric never frowned, she always semed gentle, motherly. 

 

But never frowning. Vacantae, stared into unseen eyes and felt rage radiating off of her Other Half. 

 

The Fabric stalked forward, slow and sweeping. She made no sound as she moved. She carried with her a weight of her own gravity, crushing Vacantae down to the ground. She could only move when a cold and iron like group grabbed at her chin, forcing her head up to gaze into the now seen eyes of The Fabric.

 

Golden and dripping like tears, she was angry and despairing in equal measures. 

 

Vacantae followed as she yanked her limp body up and to her feet, in her true form The Fabric easily towered over Vacantae. Tall and imposing, a goddess in every right. 

 

Angry and mournful.

 

Lady Aphrodite after The War of Troy. 

 

She dropped Vacantae’s jaw, grabbed her arm, and dragged her towards the back of the Temple of Discord. Her wings fluttered as she walked, buzzing with rage. Feathers of stars fell and littered the floor before melting in shadow. 

 

…

Vacantae found herself being thrown to the floor of the chambers, it was cold, quiet. Desolate. 

 

Perfect for an execution. 

 

Vacantae expected nothing less for her crimes, they were numerous and large.

 

No amount of love could protect her from it.

 

She had broken the sacred Laws. 

 

For this she must pay.

 

She bowed her head as The Fabric stepped forward, gliding toward her. The crushing weight of her rage was still there, but it felt lighter somehow. 

 

She reached a hand out, tilting Vacantae’s head up. 

 

“Void.” 

 

In an instant her form changed, gone was the human shell, all that remained was her true form. 

 

The Absence. 

 

Sunset colored wings, over a warm toned body. Eyes, but no mouth. What reason did the Absence have to speak after all? 

 

The Fabric stared at her, dripping eyes of gold into eyes of black emptiness. 

 

“For your Sins.” 

 

Void stared back, gone was the human shell and yet the emotions remained. 

 

Why was that?

“You must be punished.” 

 

Grief, guilt, a never ending rage. 

 

Was this how Bela had felt, when she had been born, a Goddess trapped in a mortal shell, with no one to understand her? 

 

Void stared at The Fabric, The Fabric reached forward, gentle, gentle hands. 

 

Face your crimes.

 

Accept your sins.

 

Live as Mortal might. 

 

This was her curse, her punishment to fit the bill?

 

Void wanted to protest surely such a crime deserved more, as she stood to contest her punishment, offer a worse solution, a heel slammed into her. 

 

She hit the floor, a foot forcing her down, jeweled with anklets. Connected to a leg hidden behind tumbling sparkling fabric. 

 

The heel forced her down, she hit the floor harshly, The Fabric leaned forward and snatched her chin forcing them to lock eyes.

 

“Love can save you yet.” 

 

They vanished in sparkling stardust, the bells of the Temple echoed. Punishment had been served and passed. 

 

…

 

The Void would now be bound to a mortal body for the full lifetimes of each person they had killed or punished.

 

Totalling to 2356 years. 

 

…

 

Bela wandered through the halls, they were winding and twisting, they weren't real of course. 

 

She had to go cool off somewhere after her incident with…

 

She didn't want to be reminded of that woman right now, the thought just made her blood boil and her teeth ache. 

 

Either way, the halls twisted and turned at her command. 

 

A neverending labyrinth of doorways and offshoots, all at her disposal. A perfect place to let out some rage. 

 

After all…

 

Many people wandered here by accident.

 

And well, someone had to get rid of them, yes? 

 

…

 

“Bela.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why are you covered in blood?”

 

“I am?”

 

“Yes, have you not noticed?”

 

“Oh, silly me!”

 

Laughter, shrill and unstable.

 

“I didn't even notice!” 

 

“...Bela,”

 

“Yes.”

 

“..How have you been feeling, Bela?” 

 

“Perfectly fine, why?”

 

“Perfectly fine people don't exactly go on violent sprees.”

 

“Is it really violent if they didn’t feel anything?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Well that's no fun.”

 

“Bela.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Can you do something for me?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Can you please say something with me, I’d like you to repeat it with me.” 

 

“Alright, what is it?”

 

“It wasn't my fault.” 

 

“....”

 

“Can you say this for me?” 

 

“It-”

 

“It wasn't my fault.”

 

‘It wasn't my…”

 

“Yes, it was, YES IT WAS, YES IT WAS, YES IT WAS, YES IT WAS !” 

 

“Bela! Calm down, stop-”

 

“IT WAS ALL MY FAULT! IT WAS IT HAS TO BE!” 

 

“STOP, YOU'RE HURTING YOURSELF!” 

 

“HA.. HA. HAHAHAHAHAHA-” 

 

“Medics, please! I need medics in here, now!” 

 

—

 

Johnny and Ian wandered the halls of the palace.

 

Ian’s suggestion. 

 

Him and his walks. 

 

Though, it was always nice with him. And he could keep an eye on him, especially after that mess of war flashbacks.

 

He didn’t dare discuss the past. He was so fearful of Ian collapsing into himself like he did yesterday.

 

Ian looked so tired. Johnny just wanted him to be okay.

 

They wandered. And wandered. And wandered.

 

And came upon a palace goer with a clipboard. Writing furiously.

 

And wande—

 

A clipboard?

 

Johnny stopped dead in his tracks.

 

“Are you doing an experiment?”

 

“I’m sorry, experiment?”

 

“Yes! You’re writing down notes for something.”

 

“Just some things a patient has said.”

 

“Psychological experiments? Fascinating.”

 

“ Not experiments.”

 

“...that’s a lot less fun.”

 

“I’m simply a therapist. I’m not a scientist.” She scanned Johnny, locking eyes with him. “Have you tried therapy before—”

 

“No. No thank you.”

 

“I just think that—”

 

“No. I don’t believe you should be thinking anything. Goodbye.”

 

“Sir–”

 

“No.”

 

Johnny began a brisk stride away from the therapist, being halted by a strong hand on his shoulder.

 

“Johnny.”

 

“Ian?”

 

“I think we should try it.”

 

“ What? ”

 

“Therapy. We should try it. I think it’d be good.”

 

“Good?! How?!”

 

“It’s therapy, Johnny. If anyone should have that, it’s us.”

 

“I’m perfectly fine in my lab, thank you.”

 

“What if I do it?”

 

“...Ian.”

 

“Will you do it with me?”

 

“Ian, don’t talk like that.”

 

“Please?” Ian batted his lashes at Johnny. “I don’t wanna go alone.”

 

“We don’t have to go at all.”

 

“But I want you there with me. Please?”

 

Johnny groaned as Ian happily led the defeated Phoenix back towards the therapist. She smiled, a mockery of his inability to deny Ian.

 

—

 

Johnny didn’t want to sit down.

 

He rocked on his feet, paced, snapped his fingers, flapped his hands, anything to distract from this horrid experience.

 

“Are you aware that you are neurodivergent, sir?”

 

“Yes. Very. I studied it myself.”

 

“Are you aware—”

 

“Autism. Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Hyperactive type, not inattentive. I know. I’m aware. ”

 

The therapist jotted down his words.

 

“And you?”

 

“Me?”

 

“Are you aware of any neurodivergence?”

 

Ian’s ears fluttered as he thought. “Uh…no? I don’t really see what that has to do with anything.”

 

“It impacts many aspects of your life. I believe you also are autistic.”

 

“ Huh? ”

 

The therapist raised her brow, jotting down more things on her clipboard.

 

“Are you gonna elaborate?”

 

“Your body language, sir. And you’re not looking at me much when you speak. But you stare when I speak.”

 

“It’s polite!”

 

More notes. “And you fidget.”

 

“No I don’t.”

 

She pointed her pen towards Ian’s hands, which just so happened to be twisting and nearly stretching his shirt into oblivion. He stopped immediately.

 

“So you’re just gonna go say we’re autistic and that’s it?”

 

“That is not it, Mister Torres.”

 

“ Ugh , please just say Johnny.”

 

“Johnny, then. And you, would you prefer Ian?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Notes. So many notes.

 

The therapist seemed to turn her attention almost entirely on Ian, listening to him speak about his interests and why he wasn’t autistic because Johnny loved science and he did not but he did like science but it wasn’t that intense so—

 

“Ian.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Notes, notes. “Science does not define autism. I hope you are aware of that?”

 

“Uh, I guess, yeah. But I don’t have interests like that!”

 

“Johnny. He is your special interest.”

 

Johnny gasped, whipping around to face Ian with a wide grin.

 

“Me? I’m your special interest?!”

 

Johnny was so happy, practically jumping at the concept. Ian couldn’t help but melt.

 

Pen click. Notes, notes, notes.

 

“Your ears. You seem to have sensory issues.”

 

“No.”

 

“Then why did you feel the need to adjust your hearing aids?”

 

“The palace isn’t as loud. I mean, it’s loud, but there’s more room so nothing is so loud. And here there’s too much buzzing from those lights and your clock is kinda loud and so is that computer over there, someone didn’t turn it off…”

 

The therapist cocked a brow.

 

Fuck.

 

“I thought that was just because of your hearing.”

 

“Johnny, you must understand. Simply hearing such minute details is not the issue at hand, it is how we perceive them. He is clearly overloaded by even the senses he was born with.”

 

Oh god.

 

Ian felt like he was having all kinds of revelations.

 

His world revolved around Johnny. Every moment of it.

 

He was starting to hate this woman. She was too forward with her statements.

 

“Now that we’ve settled the initial workings of your brains,” she clicked the pen once again, “let’s begin unpacking what’s behind those eyes.”

 

—

 

Johnny hated her.

 

She seemed to know that, of course.

 

“That Elenor woman, she was quite the influence in your life prior to these events, yes?”

 

“She was one of my best friends. She practically held our group together.”

 

A hum. “Did you have a prominent mother in your life?”

 

“I don’t have parents. Never did.”

 

Click. Scribble. “So Elenor filled that maternal role. Interesting.”

 

“That’s not what I said.”

 

“But that is what happened.”

 

Johnny grunted. He wanted out of here, but this damn bitch decided they needed a while with her.

 

How bad would it be to—

 

“That door will not open until our session has expired. Please stop staring at the latch.”

 

Fuck.

 

She looked back at Ian. “I take it you also did not have parents in your childhood?”

 

“Uh…no.”

 

Scribble. “Then this group had been the only family you’d adopted.”

 

They felt so vulnerable. It was horrible.

 

“That betrayal. You have both experienced it.”

 

“...yes?”

 

“But that does not mean you’ll live it again.”

 

She looked at Johnny. Stared into him.

 

“Your new friends. You do not show them everything you have to offer. Why is that?”

 

“What are you talking about?!”

 

“You used to be bubbly. The sunshine of your family, as you described. But this is not what we’re seeing today.”

 

“Because I’m different.”

 

“That is not what you displayed when I informed Ian that you were his special interest.”

 

“I was just…excited.”

 

“And bubbly. Like sunshine. That is still very much present within you, so why are you hiding that from the new family you have adopted into your life?”

 

“It’s… embarrassing. I don’t need them to use it against me.”

 

“Why would they?”

 

“Elenor—”

 

“Ah, there you go again. And that is what I brought up before. That betrayal is not likely to carry over into an entirely new group, considering all that you have experienced together.”

 

“Not likely isn’t a guarantee.”

 

“Do you seek guarantees, Johnny?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is that your only form of control, Johnny?”

 

“...”

 

“Johnny?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“A topic to cover later.” Scribble, scribble. Damned pen, always scribbling.

 

“And Ian.” Pen down. Thank God. “Your physical strength is not enough to protect your mind.”

 

Ian damn near winced . “That, uh, that’s not…”

 

“Oh, but it is. You are very strong willed, I will give you that. But that is not enough to shield you from the world.”

 

“...”

 

“You cannot be shielded from the world, Ian. You must brave it.”

 

“...shut up.”

 

The latch of the door clicked, and Johnny immediately sprung up. He was practically teleporting, Ian in his hold, to leave that dreadful room.

 

“Your next session is tomorrow. Two in the afternoon. Don’t be late, we will find you!”

 

Slam.

 

—

 

Bela woke up in an unfamiliar place. She seemed to be doing that a lot recently.

 

She closed her eyes and sent her magic out, feeling around the area, sensing the minds nearby.

 

Three people, medics. Why was she in the medical wing? She had no reason to be there, but-

 

Oh, maybe she did have a reason to be there.

 

She remembered now.

 

How she had reached her breaking point, her meltdown, scratching at her face as she laughed and cried. Blood dripping down her face. Breaking point, she had reached it. 

 

She smiled, an unconscious movement, thankfully the medics were far from her. Checking on another patient. It seemed she had gotten a private wing in the medical center, perks of being royalty now she supposed. 

 

She sat up in bed, she was wearing a white gown now. Hospital scrubs, or, no, these were some kind of pajamas. A white short nightdress with large ruffles, there were slippers nearby. She ignored them.

 

 There was a large bay window at the other side of her room, opposite of the bed. It looked like something from her childhood home. The home she no longer visited. The one she couldn't visit, for fear of another meltdown. 

 

She climbed into the bay seat, hands touching the glass. They melted through it as though the panels of thick bullet proof shielding were made of jello. She stumbled out onto the rocky edges of the medical wing. First floor, thankfully. 

 

She wandered then. The bandages on her face, stark against her skin. So was the dress. She was like a walking spotlight. She didn't mind though. White was such a pretty color after all. So soft and graceful. 

 

She turned and she walked in erratic movements, the remnants of her meltdown clinging to her like a ghost. She figured she might as well go somewhere. Where would she go? 

 

She found herself in a forest, a rather large forest. 

 

She had never explored such a forest. 

 

She felt like a child again, finding little pixie hideaways and giving fairies dewdrops of nectar as a treat. Playing jump rope with shadowed children, making trips through the fae portals. 

 

The forest wasn't nearly as magical as the one by her house. 

 

It reminded her of the one by Armand’s apartment. 

 

Large and encompassing. 

 

Like a hug.

 

How comforting, How nice.

 

She heard someone call her, from the side. 

 

Johnny’s lab, it was nearby, right?

 

She couldnt remember it well, everything was hazy.

 

Ha. Maybe she hit her head harder than she thought.

 

—

 

Sanity?

 

Yes, Innocence?

 

Is everything alright with the Mind?

 

No, my child, it seems those heroes did more damage than we thought.

 

What do you mean?

 

Everything is all jumbled, like badly placed building blocks.

 

Oh! Like a poorly made gingerbread house, right?

 

A perfect example. 

 

Everything is crashing down now, but as it does, something new forms to be built.

 

What will it be?

 

I don't know, Child. 

 

I know.

 

You do? 

 

Divinity, leave Innocence alone, you know she’s too curious for her own good.

 

You called?

 

No Curiosity, I did not call.

 

Divinity, please tell me. What is it going to be?

 

A bloom.

 

A bloom?

 

A bloom, for a beautiful flower.

 

Before we were a cocoon, for a butterfly, and now we shall be the flower that butterfly drinks from. 

 

What does that mean?

 

It means we’ll be fixed soon.

 

Fixed?

 

We’ll find all our missing parts.

 

And then?

 

Then we'll be whole.

 

Can you imagine it? Being whole after all these years fractured.

 

I’d certainly like to go back to functioning like a regular mind. 

 

Wouldn't we all. But she’s no regular person now is she.

 

No, I suppose not.

 

Now why don’t you go to Humanity, maybe she has something for you to play with. 

 

Alright, Sanity. Goodbye.

 

Goodbye, Innocence. 

 

What about me? Do I get a goodbye?

 

No, Curiosity.

 

Ah, no fun.

 

Shush now.

 

Why?

 

People approach. 

 

….

Chapter 42: Fourty Two

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Rowan lay tangled in the warmth of Jasper’s bed, his head resting against the soft pillows as he rambled on about Maia's new haircut. Jasper, eyes half-closed and serene, nodded along softly, listening intently even as his mind drifted, savoring the melody of Rowan’s voice. It was like a lullaby to him, each word wrapping him in a blanket of comfort. As Jasper’s fingers absentmindedly played with Rowan’s hair, he noticed how much easier his hands slipped through it.

"Did you cut your hair, hun?" Jasper hummed, his voice a low, soothing murmur.

Rowan halted mid-rant, blushing slightly. "Yeah… I know it looks weird but—" Before he could finish, Jasper leaned in and kissed him, silencing any self-doubt.

Jasper gently brushed Rowan’s bangs away, his fingers lingering on his forehead as he smiled softly. "No, it looks good on you, silly." Rowan smirked and snuggled deeper into the covers, his cheeks still flushed.

Jasper, content and lost in the moment, admired him—the person he adored more than anything. Rowan was his star, his comet, his everything. He leaned closer, his hands trailing tenderly along Rowan’s body, brushing over his neck, down to his chest, and further to his arms. But then…something shifted.

Arms.

"My arms touched Bela’s cold body."

"The blood is pouring out of me."

"I’m here…again."

Rowan’s mind snapped, reality fracturing like glass. His serene moment with Jasper shattered, and suddenly, he was back. The glass dome. Stars swirling above him, but all he could focus on was the body beneath him. His hands were trembling, slick with blood—his and hers. Horror washed over him as he raised his arms, the vine appendages leaving deep, dark scars along his skin. He was so…tired.

Please let me…

S L E E P

Rowan couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened, the air in his lungs trapped. Everything was black—no texture, no space, no air, no sense of reality. He clutched his chest, but he felt nothing.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the void.

"ROWAN!"

Rowan’s eyes flew open, gasping for breath as he locked onto Jasper’s face. Jasper's eyes were wide with worry, glowing a vibrant sea of blue, magic swirling around him as he tried to shake Rowan awake. Tears glistened in the corners of Jasper’s eyes, desperation etched into every feature.

Rowan blinked, dazed and confused, still feeling the lingering remnants of the nightmare. His eyes were no longer their usual shade. They were black—two inky voids staring back at Jasper.

"Rowan… why are your eyes doing that? What happened?" Jasper's voice trembled with concern, his fingers clutching Rowan’s shoulders as if anchoring him to reality.

Rowan blinked again, and his eyes returned to their dull teal. He looked down at his hands, trembling uncontrollably. No blood. No vines. Nothing.

But it didn’t feel real. None of it did. He felt as though he was still trapped in that nightmare, unable to escape.

 

Rowan tried to brush it off, a shaky smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulled his jacket off the floor. "I—I'm fine. Just a bad dream, dude. All good~."

But Jasper wasn’t buying it. His concerned expression deepened as he watched Rowan try to make a quick exit. Before Rowan could step outside, black magic curled around him, halting his movement. Jasper's magic turned him around and gently floated him back to the bed.

Rowan groaned, annoyed but unable to fight it. "Seriously? Why do you have to have all this magic, huh?" He was tempted to roll his eyes, but Jasper’s gaze stopped him. Jasper was done playing along. His eyes, filled with both worry and determination, said enough was enough.

"You’ve been shaking in your sleep," Jasper’s voice was firm but gentle.

Ouch. That hit a nerve.

"You scream in horror when I leave the room," Jasper continued, his voice cracking slightly.

Double ouch. Rowan winced internally.

"And..." Jasper cupped Rowan’s cheek, his thumb brushing softly against his skin. "Your eyes, Rowan. There’s something wrong, and I can feel it."

Rowan’s mind raced. He couldn’t let Jasper see how much he was spiraling, how deep the nightmares had dug their claws into him. He kept lying to himself—he was fine. He had to be fine.

"I just need to rest, Jasper." Rowan reassured, his voice tight, masking the cracks in his composure.

Jasper's response hit like a brick. "You’ve been sleeping for 12 hours."

Wait… what?

Rowan’s eyes widened as he shot out of bed and rushed to the window. The bright sunlight stung his eyes, confirming Jasper’s words—it was the next day. How had he slept through that much time? What was happening to him?

Jasper rose and wrapped his arms around Rowan, pulling him close. The weight of guilt and worry pressed down on both of them, but mostly on Rowan’s shoulders. He could feel it—he knew Jasper could feel it too.

"We need to see someone... you do too," Jasper said softly, his voice tinged with guilt and concern.

Rowan squinted at him, half-joking, half-serious. "Ewww, a therapist? I don’t like talking about how I feel." The thought of opening up to a stranger made him shudder.

Jasper shot him a smirk, deciding to throw a playful jab to lighten the mood. "Oh, so you can tell me all about the number of positions you want to be pu—"

Rowan waved his hands, his face turning red with embarrassment. "Okay, okay! Fine! If it’ll make you feel better," he cut Jasper off, shaking his head. The banter had diffused some of the tension, but deep down, Rowan felt conflicted.

He knew this was going to be a mistake. He could feel it gnawing at him. But if it was the only way to reassure Jasper, he’d do it. He’d prove he was sane and normal —whatever it took. Even if he had to lie to himself a little longer.

-

 

In the late afternoon, Jasper finally convinced Rowan to see the new therapist—after dragging him off the roof, still hearing his screeching in his head. As they walked side by side, Rowan’s tail wrapped tightly around Jasper's, a gesture of shared nervousness. Neither of them had ever been to therapy before, but Jasper had heard glowing, albeit quirky, recommendations about this therapist, the only one willing to take them on.

Tension hung thick in the air during their walk, unspoken secrets simmering between them. Jasper fidgeted with the therapist’s card, its surface covered in pink glitter that made him doubt her qualifications for a moment. Still, the bold lettering boasted years of schooling, and they didn’t have many other options. He had to trust it.

When they finally arrived, the “office” was a simple trailer with chrome wheels, but decorated with an overabundance of pink flowers. Rowan shot Jasper a skeptical look.

“Really? This is our option?”

Jasper sighed. “Yes… Just give it a try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll find someone else.”

Both of them swallowed nervously before stepping inside. The metal door creaked open, and they were greeted by a wash of bright white light.

“You must be Jasper and Rowan, correct?!” came a chipper voice.

Rowan blinked, unsure what to focus on. The motivational posters of cats doing yoga were strangely hilarious. The fluffy pink fur carpet beneath his shoes felt oddly soft. And then, there was her.

The therapist's look was striking—her bronze skin glowed against the backdrop of her neon pink hair streaked with electric green highlights, which matched her unnaturally bright eyes. She wore an office uniform, complete with pink-rimmed glasses, and held a clipboard in one hand. Her smile was wide and inviting, but…

Wait… were those antennas on her head?

“I’m Stacy! Certified DJ, chemist, engineer, babysitter, annnnd,” she said with a theatrical flair, “certified therapist.” She beamed as she shook their hands firmly, her enthusiasm catching Rowan off-guard. For a fleeting moment, her warm smile reminded him of his mother, and he felt a little more at ease. Jasper, on the other hand, seemed like he was in the middle of a fever dream, his eyes darting around the eclectic room.

“Shall we get started?” Stacy continued brightly. “I’d like to speak to Rowan first.”

Jasper blinked, startled, as Rowan hesitated before sitting down on the pristine white couch. Then, Stacy cleared her throat.

“Alone, if you don’t mind,” she added gently, her tone making it clear.

Reluctantly, Jasper backed out of the trailer, glancing one last time at Rowan. As the door closed, Rowan mouthed, 'Help me.' Jasper couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling guilty but also amused by his partner's plea.

Now all that was left was to wait outside and hope this wasn’t all a terrible idea.

-

As Jasper stepped outside, he leaned against the trailer, trying to steady his thoughts. He felt anxious about leaving Rowan in the hands of such an eccentric therapist, but deep down he hoped this would help his partner in ways he couldn't. He glanced at the quirky business card again, still wondering if glitter was really a sign of professionalism.

Inside, Rowan sat stiffly on the couch, his tail nervously twitching. Stacy scribbled something on her clipboard and smiled warmly at him.

“So, Rowan,” she began, her voice soft but brimming with curiosity, “what brings you here today?”

Rowan sighed, glancing at the pink fur carpet before reluctantly answering. "Honestly? I’m not sure. Jasper insisted. He thinks there’s something... off with me.”

Stacy nodded, encouraging him to continue. "What about you? Do you feel like there’s something ‘off’?”

Rowan hesitated, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "I don’t know. I guess… I’ve been having these nightmares. And sometimes I can’t shake them, even when I wake up. It’s like I’m stuck between two worlds—one where everything's fine, and one where everything’s... broken." He trailed off, feeling vulnerable.

Stacy’s antennas twitched, but her expression remained neutral and understanding. “Nightmares can be powerful, especially when they start to blend into our waking life. It sounds like you're carrying a lot of weight on your shoulders. Do you want to tell me more about these dreams?”

Rowan’s eyes flickered with hesitation, but something about Stacy’s calm, quirky presence made him feel a bit more at ease. “Well... it always starts the same. I’m in this glass dome, and there’s blood—my blood, someone else's, it’s hard to tell. And then I can’t breathe, like something’s suffocating me, and there are these vines…” Rowan shuddered, running a hand through his hair.

Stacy scribbled again on her clipboard, her expression thoughtful. “It sounds terrifying. But let me ask you this—what happens when you wake up from these dreams?”

Rowan frowned. "I... I feel exhausted. Confused. Like I don’t know what’s real. Jasper’s always there, trying to calm me down, but I don’t know what’s wrong with me."

Stacy tapped her chin, her vibrant green eyes narrowing in thought. “It sounds like your mind is trying to process something—maybe something unresolved, something from the past or something you’re not fully conscious of yet. You said Jasper thinks there’s something ‘off’—what do you think he’s picking up on?”

Rowan's tail curled tightly around his leg, a sign of his growing discomfort. "He says I scream in my sleep. That I shake and... my eyes turn black sometimes. But I don’t remember any of it."

Stacy leaned in slightly, her tone gentle but probing. "Do you think you’re keeping something from yourself, Rowan?"

Rowan scoffed, his confusion turning into defensive disbelief. "Hiding? Me? No way." He waved his hand dismissively. "Pshhh, I’m over all that stupid stuff."

Stacy lowered her clipboard and looked at him, waiting, her silence encouraging him to continue.

“All those fights, the adventures—" Rowan began, but Stacy cut in gently.

“And Jasper dying?”

The words hit him like a punch. Rowan’s gaze snapped to her, eyes brimming with unshed tears. He hadn’t expected her to bring that up so bluntly, and the pain of it still felt raw.

“I heard… from him,” Stacy said softly. “I can’t imagine the pain you went through, and the relief of having him back.”

She placed her hands on his, her touch both grounding and tender. "You’re a very lucky mush, Rowan."

But Rowan recoiled, snatching his hands away. His voice cracked as he shouted, "I don’t deserve him!"

His emotions unraveled, words spilling out in a mess of anger and guilt. “I didn’t protect him! I should’ve— I should’ve sacrificed—”

Before he could finish, Stacy gently but firmly placed her hands on his forehead, making him look into her eyes. Her expression was stern yet compassionate.

"The living shouldn’t envy the dead," she said, her voice steady and calm.

Rowan trembled at her words. He hadn’t realized how much that truth gnawed at him. Stacy’s statement pierced through his defenses, leaving him shaken.

“He’s here, Rowan. You feel him. He’s outside this trailer right now, waiting for you.”

Rowan sank back into the couch, tears falling freely now, his tail curling tighter around his body as though trying to shield himself from the weight of it all. His mind swirled with images of losing Bela, of losing Jasper... He had them both back, but the cost still haunted him.

Stacy jotted something down on her clipboard. “You’re struggling with abandonment.”

“Abandonment?” Rowan echoed, his voice shaky.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Your chaotic behavior, your need to stand out—these are ways you’ve learned to keep people close to you. Even if it means sacrificing yourself to make sure they stay.”

Rowan’s hands clenched into fists. He wasn’t angry because she was wrong. He was angry because she was right. Too right. The truth hurt, stabbing at wounds he thought he’d buried deep. His breath came in ragged gasps as memories flashed before him, each one a slice of his past he never wanted to relive.

The voices from his childhood echoed in his mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

"Why do you look like that?"

 "Get away from my son! You're poison."

 "Your son just isn’t right for this school." 

"You’re a mistake ."

Stacy must have sensed his turmoil. She pressed a cold compress into his hands, the shock of it bringing him back to the present. The burning sensation grounded him, the cold pulling him out of the storm of memories.

“You’ve had an emotional attack,” she said softly. “I’m going to ask you to come back for more sessions, alright?”

She smiled, placing her clipboard on the pink coffee table in front of them. “And I’m giving you some homework.”

Rowan groaned at the word, the reminder of school weighing heavy on his mind. “Homework?”

Stacy chuckled at his reaction. “It’s easy, I promise. I want you to ask your partner about his favorite habits of yours.”

Rowan blinked in confusion. “Why would I do that?”

“This will help increase your self-worth,” she explained. “You don’t need to create a façade to be loved. Jasper has seen your best and your worst, so hearing from him what he loves about you will remind you that you don’t have to be someone you’re not.”

Rowan sat there in silence, absorbing her words. He nodded slowly, rising from the couch and heading toward the door. His body felt heavy with emotion, but a small part of him felt lighter too, like a tiny crack had been made in the walls around his heart.

“Keep your head up,” Stacy called as he left. “You’re important to all of us, Rowan Cleaver.”

The metal door clicked shut behind him, and before he could even process the flood of emotions inside him, Rowan rushed to Jasper, wrapping his arms around him in a desperate hug. He buried his face in Jasper’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Jasper didn’t say anything at first—he didn’t need to. He just held Rowan close, feeling the torrent of anguish, relief, and something deeper coursing through him.

As Jasper stroked Rowan’s back, his eyes fell on a note crumpled in Rowan’s hand.

“ Your next session will be in 5 days. Use this time to get to know each other better—trauma and all. :3”

Jasper was kinda tired of all these notes he received 

but

 if it meant helping Rowan and healing their relationship, he was willing to go through it all.

He looked up from Rowan’s body to see the trailer suddenly disappear 

He nervously glanced around to see any marks in the dirt but nothing…

…

She was definitely not of this realm…

Chapter 43: Fourty Three

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Ian called out for Bela again, why was she standing in the middle of the forest? She didn't seem to react much to his voice, a twitch and then stillness. Ian moved forward, Johnny still hanging onto his arm, and called out for her again. The more he did without any reaction the more he worried. 

 

At last she turned around, finally, a reaction.

 

He would have sighed in relief were it not for his horror at the bandages stuck to her face. Long and thick gauze at her forehead and almost covering her eyes. Could she even see with them? Was that why she was stumbling around the forest, how had she even gotten the bandages? How had she even gotten here? 

 

“Bela?” She hummed, her eyes were hazy and she stumbled back as though she would fall. Ian leaped forward, Johnny with him, and they caught her on either side of her body. 

 

“Bela, what happened?!” Johnny was close to hysterics already, last time she had been this out of it was when…

 

..was when Void happened. 

 

He didn't want to think of that right now, or at all, so he didn't. Instead he focused on the bandages decorating her head, some were stained with red. Peeking out slowly, a deep cut then. He steadied her with a hand and stepped forward. 

 

“Bela?” She only hummed again and laughed a little, clearly she was completely out of it. She didn't even seem to recognize that they were there. How could a few cuts do that to her though, maybe she hit her head too. 

 

Johnny looked over at Ian, worried on his face. Looking at Ian calmed him though, everything would be fine. Sighing, he pushed aside the swirling thoughts and emotions, he had to be calm for this. Calm, he could be calm. 

 

“Let’s get her to the lab, she needs to sit down.” 

 

…

 

Bela sat on a table.

 

It was cold, metal, cold metal. 

 

Ha. 

 

Funny, right?

 

No, maybe not. Her head hurt, why did it hurt again?

 

Right, right, right. Breakdown. Falling, hitting her head.

 

Her head hurt. 

 

Badly.

 

It was like everything was scrambled. 

 

Broken, on the inside. 

 

This pain went farther than just a bump on her head.

 

Something was wrong with her head, something was falling, shattering, dying. 

 

…

 

Sanity?

 

Yes?

 

Is it breaking now?

 

Yes, it is.

 

So…

 

So?

 

What will happen to us when it breaks?

 

We will be reborn.

 

Will we still exist?

 

Of course we will.

 

Will I remember you, them, everyone?

 

Yes. 

 

Rebirth is not Death, simply Life in another form. 

 

Will I change?

 

We all will, dear.

 

Will it hurt?

 

For us, not at all.

 

Who will it hurt?

 

Her. 

 

Why?

 

Her mind is reshaping itself, fixing itself, a product of Divinity. 

 

Divinity is doing this?

 

Not on purpose.

 

But she’s still doing it right.

 

It is simply a side effect of Divinity, not a doing. 

 

I don’t get it. 

 

I don't expect you to.

 

Just go to sleep, and soon it will be over. 

 

…

 

Johnny examined Bela. Overall she seemed rather fine, he removed her bandages as was met with quickly heavily scratches and stitches. How deep had her wounds been, and what had caused them? It had only been two days since he had interacted with her after all. How could she get injured in such a short amount of time. 

 

Bela groaned and reached for her head, eyes fluttering. They were glowing, her skin seemed to flicker, like a glitching TV. Johnny watched with shock. One second she had unblemished skin, the next she was covered in scars and freckles. 

 

Bela leaned her head back and almost fell down off the table. Johnny caught her and she laughed again. Ian watched worriedly nearby, ready to provide any support he could. 

 

“Yknow,” Bela slurred, “this isn't what I really look like.” 

 

Johnny looked at her, cocking an eyebrow, what did she mean by that? That this wasn't what she really looked like? Was it an illusion, a spell, a glamor? 

 

She steadied herself on the table and snapped her fingers, the glitching stopped and settled. Her skin was dark still, a warm rich brown. But covered in shades of pale whites of slashing and winding scars, like winding vines. Freckles dotted random parts of her body. A mole here and there. 

 

Johnny hadn't realized how unnaturally unblemished her skin was until just now. 

 

“B-” Bela cut him off by grabbing at his hand, and holding it tightly =, as though she was afraid he'd leave her. 

 

“Are we friends?” 

 

What a strange question to ask, of course they were friends, why would she be asking that? Did she think they weren't, was it because of all he had been holding back, or was it something else, was it something she had been holding back. 

 

“Of course we are, you're my best friend, you know that.” 

 

“No I'm not.” 

 

“Wh-”

 

“Ian’s your best friend, we both know that.”

 

“I-”

 

“You don't need me, not anymore, I did my job, I got you Ian back. What use do you have for me anymore, we aren't friends.” 

 

“Bela, what are you saying, of course we're friends. You don't need to constantly do things for me for us to be friends, we're best friends aren't we?”

 

“Wouldn't best friends notice when one of them was possessed?” 

 

“I-”

 

“I was still possessed when we came here, for an entire six months, and you never noticed.”

 

Tears, dripping, falling down.

 

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.

 

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

 

She was smiling as she cried, it reached her eyes, it was terribly unsettling. Ian moved forward to grab at Johnny.

 

“We can't be friends. If we were,”

 

She nodded at Ian who seemed to be ready to protect Johnny from her.

 

“Neither of you would be scared of me.” 

 

All the King's Horses. 

 

And all the King’s Men.

 

Couldn't put Humpty. 

 

Together.

 

Again. 

…

Breaking point, she had reached it. 

 

Tears fall and crash like waves.

 

Her mind shifts and shatters.

 

Falling like Jenga blocks.

 

Down.

 

Down. 

 

Down.

 

Like her house, her parents crushed under.

 

A bad game.

 

She likes games.

 

She wants to play another game.

 

One where she wins.

 

She always seems to lose these games. 

 

When will she find one she wins?

 

…

 

Bela hit the ground, Ian caught her, quick and swift before she could hurt herself. Both men exchanged panicked glances over her limp body, what the hell was going on with her? And was what she said really true, did she see things that way, did she really think they all were afraid of her? 

 

Did she think none of them were her friends?

 

A rush of emotions, he couldn't tell what he was experiencing right now. Good and bad, mostly bad though. He pushed them away, he had to make sure her head injury wasn't bad enough that there was any brain bleeding. 

 

“Lay her down, try and wake her up, I need to-”

 

Johnny was cut off by shrill and horrible screaming. 

 

Loud and piercing, like shards of ice.

 

Bela.

 

She was wailing terribly in her sleep, trashing back and forth, hands reaching up to scratch and claw at her face and head. Reaching down to her, now scarred, neck and pulling at the skin. 

 

Ian grabbed both her hands and held them down, looking over at Johnny, eyes narrowed.

 

“Can you get something to knock her out, I don't exactly want her to claw her eyes out!” 

 

Johnny was already searching a drawer for that sedative Bela had him make and, there! He pulled it out  of the drawer and ran back to the table where Bela was still trashing. He held the needle right above her thigh, the least dangerous place to sedate her as of now, as stabbed the needle in.

 

Soon enough Bela was calm, well clamer. She cried bitter tears in her sleep, dripping down her face like rain. Blood marred her face and new scars and scratches were forming over the other ones that she had likely caused earlier that day. 

 

“Oh, Bela, what's happening to you..” 

 

…

 

Sanity?

 

Yes?

 

I’m tired.

 

Rest, I will keep watch.

 

Is it time?

 

Yes?

 

Will you be here when I wake?

 

Of course.

 

Now sleep, my dear. 

 

Alright.

 

…

 

Queen?

 

Yes, Vixen?

 

Whatcha looking at?

 

Nothing, dear.

 

Ya sure?

 

Mhm.

 

It looks like a mirror, are you turning vain or something on us?

 

No, I was just checking in on someone.

 

Ah, I think I know who you were checking up on.

 

What! How come Zion gets to know and I don't?!

 

Zion only said that they think they know, not that they know.

 

Same difference. 

 

Vixen, will you please stop asking me if I tell you about it.

 

Mmmmmaybe.

 

Good enough, alright I’ll tell you.

 

…

 

The night after their therapy session was unusually quiet. The oddity of Stacy, their eccentric therapist, still lingered in Jasper’s mind, making him anxious about his own upcoming session with her. But for now, his focus was on Rowan, who sat beside him, his eyes swollen and red from all the crying. Dinner had calmed him down, and now they both relaxed in Jasper's messy room—Rowan immersed in his experiments, while Jasper read through an ancient spell book.

Rowan busied himself with concoctions at his desk, a comforting distraction. The thought of causing some chemical reaction or devising an explosive outcome distracted him from the "homework" Stacy had assigned. What did she know, anyway? He was already confident in his looks, his intelligence, but whenever he boasted about those things, it always felt hollow. His confidence faltered when he caught a glimpse of his reflection. His chemical-stained hands made him cringe; his dull, washed-out teal eyes and the dark circles beneath them only deepened his self-loathing. His once vibrant hair was now rough and unkempt.

He sighed, abandoning his work, and slouched next to Jasper on the bed. Jasper was absorbed in his spell book, whispering softly as he practiced incantations, his midnight skin glowing faintly under the room’s dim light. Rowan couldn’t help but stare, taking in how effortlessly beautiful Jasper was—his dark, twisting charcoal hair splayed across the pillow, the contrast of his black and blue eyes. It made Rowan’s heart ache. He envied how Jasper looked so perfect, even while reading.

Jasper, sensing Rowan’s gaze, snapped his spell book shut and removed his royal blue reading glasses, his smile soft. He gently shifted Rowan into his lap so they were face to face. Rowan’s breath caught in his throat. Even after all this time, Jasper’s height and intensity made him feel vulnerable. He could feel Jasper’s eyes scanning every inch of him, and it stirred something inside him—a mix of discomfort and longing.

“What’s wrong, Row?” Jasper asked, his voice gentle as his fingers caressed the top of Rowan’s mushroom cap, sending a familiar shiver down his spine. It was Rowan’s favorite spot to be touched, and Jasper knew exactly how to calm him. “You’ve been staring at me like there’s something on my face.”

Rowan sighed, his hands dropping into his lap as shame washed over him. “I got homework… from that lady,” he muttered, his voice low. “She wants me to ask you what you like about me, but—” He waved dismissively, trying to brush the conversation aside. “It’s probably nothing anyway.”

Jasper hummed softly, running his fingers through Rowan’s hair, savoring the way it felt between his fingers. His other hand interlocked with Rowan’s, and he squeezed gently, feeling the faint rhythm of Rowan’s heartbeat pulsing through his palm.

“There’s a list,” Jasper murmured, his tone playful yet sincere, “of all the things I like about you. If you’re willing to hear it.”

Rowan’s cheeks flushed a soft peach. A list? He tried to dismiss the idea. There was no way Jasper had that many things to say about him. He must be bluffing, right? Rowan reassured himself, nahhh , Jasper couldn’t possibly have a real list… could he?

…

Jasper was not bluffing

Jasper leaned forward, rummaging through his bedside drawer, and pulled out a long-forgotten, dusty scroll. The old parchment unfurled as he shook it, the length of it cascading to the floor with a soft thud. He coughed, waving the dust away with a grin.

“Yep! Here it is,” Jasper announced proudly. “193 things, and counting, that I love about Rowan Cleaver.”

Rowan’s jaw dropped. “1-193?! Are you insane?!”

“For you, I am,” Jasper teased, poking Rowan’s flushed cheek with a playful smirk.

Rowan blinked in disbelief as Jasper continued, "I started this when we first started dating. Been keeping track of it for two years~"

With a satisfied hum, Jasper spread the scroll across the bed, then gently pulled Rowan onto his chest, positioning him so he could see the intricate scribbles detailing each reason. The words spilled across the parchment like a personal love story—every moment, every quirk, every quality that made Jasper fall more in love.

Rowan, now nestled against Jasper, could only blush and stutter, overwhelmed by the sheer thoughtfulness behind it. How could someone, even Jasper, have taken so much time to document every little thing about him? The idea of being that important to someone—to Jasper —felt unreal.

His eyes skimmed the first few entries, his heart pounding as he tried to absorb the magnitude of it all. "You... you really did all this for me?"

Jasper kissed the top of his head, his voice low but full of affection. "Every single thing, Row. You’re worth it."

Rowan looked away, feeling overwhelmed by the intense flood of emotions Jasper’s affection stirred within him. It was too much—love, desire, and a touch of sadness, all swirling together in a storm he couldn’t quite place. His face burned red, and Jasper, noticing his flustered state, leaned in with a playful grin.

“Why don’t you help me read some of it?” Jasper suggested, his tail lifting to intertwine with Rowan’s, their tails gently swaying together. Rowan felt like he was about to melt, his mind racing, mentally screeching from all the forwardness. It was like Jasper knew how to make him crumble without even trying.

Glancing back at the list, Rowan began reading the first entry aloud, his voice a bit shaky.

 “‘I love the way Rowan is short.’”

His brow furrowed, and he turned to Jasper, narrowing his eyes in mock annoyance. “What are you trying to say, huh?” Rowan playfully swatted at Jasper, who chuckled, swatting him back with a smirk.

“I’m just saying,” Jasper teased, “I’ve never met anyone short like you. Most of my family is horrendously tall, and when I first met you…”

Jasper gently lifted Rowan’s chin, his gaze soft and half-lidded, filled with adoration. “You looked like an undiscovered rare beauty. No amount of jewels could have traded for what I saw in you.”

Rowan’s heart practically folded in on itself. He was bad at handling flattery, and Jasper knew it. Each loving word made his tail wag uncontrollably, which in turn made Jasper’s tail, still intertwined with his, sway along with it. Rowan could barely handle the attention, his mind a flurry of emotions as Jasper’s warmth and sincerity surrounded him.

“J-Jasper…” Rowan stammered, feeling like he was about to explode from all the affection.

Jasper just smiled, pulling him a little closer. “You don’t even realize how much you mean to me, do you?”

 

Jasper gently sat Rowan upright on his lap, his intention clear—to make Rowan feel adored, cherished, and loved in every way. His hands began their slow journey, moving deliberately from Rowan's shoulders down to his lower back.

“Section 5…” Jasper said softly, his voice a blend of affection and teasing. “I love how your mushroom looks. It’s an aspect of you I’m always curious about.” His fingers delicately trailed along the edge of Rowan’s mushroom, before sliding two fingers into the gills. The sudden touch made Rowan jump, his breath catching as his most sensitive spot was gently teased. Jasper smiled knowingly, feeling the trickle of moisture run down his fingers as Rowan’s body reacted. Rowan bit his lip, trying to suppress the gasps of pleasure, his hands trembling as they covered his mouth.

Jasper withdrew his hand slowly, placing it tenderly on Rowan’s face, his thumb brushing the soft skin of his cheek with loving care. “Section 2,” he whispered, his eyes locked on Rowan’s, “I love how your face is structured. You rival the beauty of fae I’ve seen.” He leaned in, planting a soft kiss on Rowan’s cheek, the touch making Rowan’s heart flutter.

Jasper continued, his lips brushing closer to Rowan’s eyes. “The way your eyes stare directly into my soul, the color like the ocean at dawn.” He kissed near the corner of Rowan’s eyes, and Rowan felt the warmth of Jasper’s breath against his skin. His heart raced, his emotions swirling between desire and love, as Jasper’s words made him feel vulnerable and treasured all at once.

“And your lips,” Jasper murmured, his voice husky with affection, “soft and dusted with peony pink.” He pressed his mouth against Rowan’s, the kiss tender but charged with warmth. Rowan moaned softly at the sudden intimacy, his body igniting under the weight of Jasper’s attention. Their mouths moved together, lips interlocking as Rowan melted into the kiss, his heart pounding in his chest.

When they finally pulled apart, Jasper gazed at Rowan as if he were looking at a masterpiece—something precious and undiscovered, worthy of admiration. Rowan felt like his entire being was laid bare, cherished in ways he had never experienced. His body buzzed with the overwhelming love Jasper had for him.

Rowan was about to explode, not wanting jasper to continue but he was interrupted by his next move

Jasper, filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire, pinned Rowan gently to the bed, leaning closer to examine his every reaction. He loved watching Rowan like this—submissive, flushed with color, his body softening under Jasper’s touch. Rowan’s eyes turned a bright, alluring pink, and his petals began to spread across the bed, releasing a sweet floral scent that made Jasper’s heart race. It was intoxicating, the entire room now filled with the fragrance of Rowan’s essence, making Jasper feel like he was melting into him.

Slowly, Jasper moved his dark fingers to Rowan’s twitching ear, his fingers brushing lightly against the sensitive skin. “Section 3,” he whispered, his voice husky, “I love the way your ears show your emotions.” His lips descended, kissing the tip of Rowan’s pointy ears, causing a shiver to run down Rowan’s spine. Jasper smirked, enjoying the way Rowan’s body responded to every touch.

Moving lower, Jasper brought his lips to Rowan’s neck, grazing it with gentle nips. “Section 4,” he continued, his breath hot against Rowan’s skin, “how your cold body warms up beneath my touch.” His teeth sank slightly into Rowan’s neck, just enough to make Rowan whimper. The sound sent a thrill through Jasper as he gently bit down, wanting to taste every inch of him.

Rowan's body reacted instantly, a rush of heat surging through him, his skin growing warmer under Jasper’s attention. His fair skin felt soft beneath Jasper’s lips as they traveled down, pressing tender kisses along his throat and collarbone. “Your skin… so soft.” Jasper murmured between kisses. “Your voice… your humor.” His lips lingered on Rowan’s collarbone, each kiss making Rowan’s breath grow heavier.

Rowan’s tail wagged uncontrollably, his embarrassment evident in his clouded eyes and flushed face. He couldn’t stop the soft noises escaping him, overwhelmed by the love and desire pouring from Jasper. His heart raced as Jasper admired him, devouring him with kisses and affection. He felt completely laid bare—his body, his soul—all of it exposed for Jasper to see and cherish.

Jasper couldn’t get enough, savoring every twitch of Rowan’s body, every small movement that betrayed his arousal and emotion. It was as if Rowan was made for him, a treasure meant to be loved and adored.

“P-please…” Rowan’s voice trembled, barely audible as he lay beneath Jasper, his body overwhelmed and desperate. Jasper lifted his head, a teasing smirk spreading across his lips as he gazed down at Rowan, their faces mere inches apart. His ink-black eyes gleamed with mischief as he met Rowan’s hazy, pink-tinged gaze.

“Please what… use your words, mush,” Jasper murmured, his voice a soft taunt as he relished the moment. He moved closer, his breath ghosting over Rowan’s lips, waiting for him to give in.

Rowan hesitated, his mind and body already overstimulated and burning with desire. His heart pounded, the sensation of being so close to Jasper both thrilling and terrifying. “I… I need you,” Rowan finally stuttered, his voice breaking under the weight of his need.

That was all Jasper needed to hear. In an instant, he couldn’t hold back any longer, his teasing demeanor vanishing as he gave in to the intensity between them. Jasper captured Rowan’s lips in a fervent kiss, his body pressing down, and they were lost in the heat of the moment. The room filled with the intoxicating scent of flowers as their magic intertwined, their energies merging and flowing together as one.

The night had stretched on, filled with whispers of magic and emotions that rippled through the town like waves. The usual quiet streets were alive with murmurs, and the townspeople—particularly the mushes—gathered in small clusters, gossiping and speculating about the strange sounds that had echoed through the night.

Rowan, however, couldn't bring himself to leave the house. His face flushed with embarrassment, he hid away, feeling the weight of the night’s passion and the magic they had unleashed. Jasper was no different, equally hesitant to face the townspeople, as the intense connection they shared had clearly made its mark beyond their room.

 

-

Cirro lifted his head from where he lay, his keen sense picking up on something unusual in the air. The white expanse around him felt still, but the faint tendrils of magic carried emotions that stirred something inside him.

“Now this… hm, intriguing~” Cirro mused, a sly smile forming on his lips as he recognized the rare magic emanating from a certain someone…

 

Elias, reclining nearby, didn’t miss a beat. “Can you please stop smelling the air for hormones?” he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Cirro’s face flushed with embarrassment, his eyes narrowing at Elias. “Shut up! That’s not what I do!” he shot back, his usual coolness momentarily lost in the face of Elias' teasing.

“Uh huh, tell yourself that, dear,” Elias responded, smirking lazily as he rolled his eyes. He seemed unbothered, enjoying the flustered look on Cirro's face.

Cirro, sighing deeply, sank back down, but there was something about the magic he sensed that troubled him. Beneath the waves of love and passion, he could feel something darker—something heavy and unresolved, like the echo of deep pain or sadness threading through the joy. He couldn’t shake it.

 

…

 

“What is troubling you…

Jasper nova .... ”

 

-

 

—

 

Bela’s hands twitched in her sleep, blue sparks between her fingers. Neither man noticed, too caught up in conversation with each other, looking over at Bela in worry. 

 

“It doesn't make any sense..” Johnny kept muttering, Ian wanted to reach a hand out, comfort him, but he knew the other man needed to process her breakdown. At least in some way. 

 

Johnny walked over to a table nearby, Ian followed, after all why wouldn't he? The albino man picked up a thick manila folder, notes from before they switched dimensions and little reminders of him and Bela’s friendship started back at him. They slipped from the folder carefully, he held them up in his hands and scanned them. 

 

It made no sense to him, after all, everything pointed to them being friends. 

 

Transaction.

 

That's what friendship ran on, scientifically of course. Give and take, the process. The transaction. One gives and one takes and so on and so forth until it's a oroborus of cyclicity. Bela gave him Ian, he took. Johnny gave her…

 

What did Johnny give her?

 

Bela gave him a new life.

 

A gift, a given, the beginning of the transaction.

 

Johnny gave her…

 

What did Johnny give her?

 

Companionship?

 

But friendship requires transaction, is companionship equal in the face of a loved one lost? 

 

Johnny didn't give her Thea.

 

He didn't give her Tatiana.

 

He didn't give her family.

 

She found those, she took them, and offered gifts to the Universe. 

 

And she was the Universe so was it really taking if it was something she was owed? 

 

Companionship then.

 

Friendship runs on companionship.

 

He examined the notes, his hands were shaking, there was something dripping from his eyes.

 

Companionship, he offered his, only in the face of her own. 

 

She reached out, he grabbed the offered hand. She took the first step, he traced her footsteps in the aftermath. 

 

Companionship.

 

Were they not friends?

 

Did she not see them as friends?

 

She was his best friend. No one else could come close, beside Ian of course. Is that why she thought of herself as below Ian, because of Johnny’s fixation on the man. Did she not think of them as friends? 

 

Were they not friends?

 

He couldn't stop thinking that question, it haunted him, following him like a dog does its owner. Teeth, gnawing at his ankle. Pinpricks of guilt, of grief for something he didn't even know if he had lost.

 

How do you grieve something that's still here?

 

How do you grieve if nothing happened, if the Death was reversed and yet they still feel so far from you.

 

She had died, she had come back, she had died again-

 

No. She had lived.

 

She had died and lived and lived yet again.

 

So why was it that she still felt so far from him? Gone, six feet under, a grave marker the only thing left of her. A ghost clinging to a stubborn corner of the mind. Cobwebs spun by a spider one could never find. A dog following its owner, the one who was gone.

 

What was he to her?

 

A friend? 

 

We aren't friends, we can't be, if we were, you two wouldn’t be scared of me. 

 

He wasn't scared of her, he was scared for her. She hated herself, he saw the reflection of his own self loathing in her eyes. The way her smile dropped when people turned, the way her posture was too upright, the way she hid her true face and skin for eons. 

 

They way held secrets close to her heart

 

Betrayal. 

 

Was this a betrayal?

 

Did she secretly hate him?

 

Did she despise him?

 

Her eyes held love when she looked at him, care, like she was looking at a dear friend. 

 

So why was she saying they weren't friends. 

 

Why, why why, why, why….

 

It made no sense.

 

They were friends.

 

Right?

 

…

 

Ian stood guard beside Johnny.

 

It's what he did, what he’d always done.

 

What he would always do and choose to do. To protect him, that therapist..

 

She was wrong, he could shield him from the world. Afterall, it was only when he was gone that Johnny stumbled, that he fell down that tricky slope. 

 

Strength, protection, that's what Ian did best. 

 

It was his nature, nature vs nurture, what does it truly mean?

 

Was he born violent or was he molded violent?

 

Is a wolf born with the instinct to hunt, to hurt, to bite?

 

Does the wolf long for companionship, love, safety?

 

Ian gazed at Bela on the table, she was crying still. She looked peaceful, save the dripping faucets of her eyes. The trailing crystals down her face. 

 

He couldn't fight this battle, could he?

 

The monsters, they were in her head, there was no physical body to fight.

 

He could help shield her from more pain. Protect, he could do that.

 

Protection, safety, it's what he represented.

 

Protection, from the world. He would offer it.

 

Bela shifted, her face marred with scars. How had she gotten them, why had she kept them. A reality warper of her level, she could be free from the memories with a  flick of fingers, so why the glamor, why keep the reminders painted on her skin?

 

She offered Ian relief from his ailments, his memories. Taunting him in the mirror, the ones that stained his body, marred his image. Ruined him. 

 

She put him back together, like broken glass. Smoothed his edges, helped him find Johnny again. She had given him a second chance. For that he would be grateful, so why was it then..

 

Why was it that they weren't friends?

 

Did she think he would throw her to the fire, just because of her ailments. That he would discard her like a broken toy? When he himself had been that broken toy? The one thrown under the bed, collecting dust. 

 

Ian was broken, he was different. So was she.

 

They understood each other. 

 

Or so he had thought.

 

Weren't they friends?

 

But wouldn't friends share secrets?

 

And hadn't he kept his, too afraid to be discarded. Did she do the same? Did she think the same? 

 

Secrecy. Like broken tea cups, walking on eggshells. Careful, one step could make it all fall apart. A winding web of lies, spider web, eating its prey. Them at the center of it all. 

 

Ian wanted to fight for her, it's what he did best. Fight for his friends, his family.

 

He had a second chance now, he had another family.

 

He would fight for them.

 

It's what he knew best. 

 

—

 

Her hands twitched, sparks flew, sparks sparkled. 

 

Sparking, electricity. 

 

Shockwave.

 

Blue magic, running wild.

 

One down, two now, three and then four, five. 

 

The Palace sleeps, the five travel.

 

What will they find, in the mind that has unraveled. 

 

—

 

Asa Diamandis had been employed as a therapist at the palace for seven years. 

 

During her time she had treated many patients.

 

She had yet to find one she could not help, everyone could be helped, this was her motto.

 

No one was beyond help, she refused to believe such lies. 

 

As such it was reasonable that when offered she took the case of the Queen Consort.

 

Belladonna Dumitrescu, a woman known for her instability, she seemed to be in a constant state of mania. Or at least, she usually was, it seemed now that she had transferred from a state of mania to a state of severe depression.

 

Bipolar, perhaps. 

 

She wrote her notes and then-

 

Them.

 

Ian Lenor, one of many Royal Generals.

 

Johnny Torres, The Royal Scientist. 

 

A pair, she had seen them often, she had never had a chance to personally talk to them. Until now.

 

When he talked to her she recognized that glint in his eyes, Belladonna held the same one. 

 

A broken mind, a challenge she’d be willing to take.

 

It was her life goal, to help those that refused to help themselves. 

 

She was not known to give up on her patients, she was stubborn, clinging to people even as they tried their best to leap out of her arms.

 

She would help, it was her vow. 

 

…

 

Asa blinked, she had fallen, she knew this. 

 

What she did not know was where she was.

 

She recognized the people, then she caught sight of a man with a cracked mushroom on his head and threw that thought away. She did not recognize all the people then. 

 

She stood up and brushed her coat off, she stood in a large room. If you could even call it that.

 

Winding staircases, stained glass windows, a large open roof with a neverending tide pool dripping down into them. The water droplets hanging, frozen midair. She moved towards a winding staircase, it hugged the wall. It was made of stone, carved and ornate. 

 

The windows were large, encompassing. They were red, red light shining down on the group. The bodies of those unconscious littered the floor, it seemed that Asa had woken first. She longed for a clipboard to write everything on. The tidepool was silver, droplets hanging like diamonds. Shining in the red light, rubies now. 

 

The windows themselves.

 

A spider, a web, a fly. 

 

Step into my Palace, said the spider to the fly.

 

Is that what this was?

 

The spider, she had dark skin, dark hair, long and willowy. She looked familiar. The fly…

 

A woman, dark skinned, light hair, eyes floating around, watching her. The eyes followed Asa as she moved, watching, waiting, observing. 

 

The web, silver like the droplets, ruby red like blood. 

 

She moved, the floor was carved, scratches decorated it, as though someone had tried to uproot the dark wood. It was stained as though someone had bled on it, rusty and dirtied. She didn't think it’d be good for anyone to lay on it, however she had heard of something. Something this could be.

 

Certain reality warpers, like Belladonna, have Aspects. Aspects, a foundation of every mind, but reality warpers, they can share their aspects. Minds are temples, palaces and churches, depending on the cognition. 

 

Was she really witnessing a cognition?

 

She would have smiled, had it not been for the sound of yelling.

 

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?!” 

 

She whirled around and, oh, it was him.

 

She smiled at him, bright and welcoming.

 

“Fancy seeing you again, have you two thought on what I said during our session?” 

 

Johnny didn't even grace her with words; he simply stormed away from her all the way to the other side of the room, dragging Ian with him. Ian followed, mostly because he was being dragged but also because he didn't want to be near the therapist either. 

 

Nearby Rowan and Elias were waking, Rowan stumbling to his feet and looking around wildly before grabbing at his head and yelling at the tidepool above them.

 

“A-FUCKING-GAIN ARE YOU KIDDING ME!”

 

Elias jolted to wakefulness, took one look around him and sighed. 

 

“I know where we are.”

 

…

 

“The inside of Belladonna's mind, how intriguing.” 

 

Johnny watched the therapist's hands twitch, almost like she was writing unconscious notes. Hands longing for a pen. He shuddered remembering that dreaded session with her and that damned pen. 

 

He huffed and moved around the room, examining the foyer they found themselves in. The stairs stretched impossibly high, shadows curling from under them. Dark and deep as though you could fall right through them. The tidepool above them, small like a circular window and neverending like a mirror. 

 

Bela’s mind had changed terribly since he had last been here, was it due to her breakdowns? Her newfound divinity? Her new body? Too many possibilities to narrow it down, they could all have contributed to the shape of her mind. The form of it all. 

 

He looked at the stained glass, large windows that were painted various shades and hues of red. A spider, a web, and a fly. How curious, he wanted to study this further, take pictures for further examination. But he would have to settle for his memory on this one, maybe one day he could ask Bela if physical objects could transfer into her mind, maybe then he could take notes and run a few experiments on the surroundings. 

 

One day seemed so far away though, dread creeping up his throat. Would Bela agree, thinking he simply saw her as a lab experiment rather than a friend? Would Bela disagree, thinking of him as nothing more than a bother rather than a dear companion? 

 

Click.

 

Heels, walking, steady steps.

 

Heels, which only Asa, the therapist, wore. 

 

He turned around, Asa was not behind him, someone else was. 

 

“Are you ready?” 

 

—

Chapter 44: Fourty Four

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Insanity prowled the halls, the winding labyrinths leading down to the central spiral, the first floor, the first trial. Her patients were waiting for her, her subjects, her chosen five. 

 

She came across them, scattered in the central spiral. The stained glass moved and looked at her, winking, she smiled behind her mask. She didn't worry about the glass not receiving it, there was a reason she had painted a smile on the mask in the first place after all. 

 

Insanity marked down their names on her clipboard, bloodied pen moving in swirling letters across the papers. Then she folded the clipboard in the curve of her arm and moved forward. Heels clicking, no one reacted save for her first subject. 

 

He turned to her, a preconceived notion on the tip of his tongue, and then he faltered. Pulling her clipboard out she jotted down a few notes and reactions.

 

“Are you ready?” She asked, voice a mere echoing whisper. The rest of her patients whirled around at the sound as it reached their ears. The second patient stalked toward her, never too far from the first, the rest followed suite. Crowding around the first, in front and around her. 

 

“Ready for what?” The first asked, she smiled again. Her mask a mirror of her grin. And turned to look behind her with a sweeping hand, revealing a spiral staircase leading down through the floor. Golden leaves swirled around the banister, sparkling in the red light. 

 

“For your appointment of course, what else would you be here for?” 

 

—

 

Johnny trailed after the woman down the staircase, he looked around and watched as shadows whirled around them in a deep cavern, there was no light save for one being emitted from the woman’s gloved hands. Steady and blue, Bela’s magic. 

 

So the woman was an aspect, but an aspect of what? He had met many aspects his first time through Bela’s mind but he had never seen this one. 

 

She was dressed rather professionally. Flared black pants, white heels, a white button up with a velvet maroon vest decorated with golden buttons. Long black gloves that covered her skin, no inch was shown it was all covered by cloth or leather. 

 

Her hair was long, straight too, stopping just at her mid back and not moving at all no matter how the woman turned and stepped. The only unprofessional thing about her was her mask. 

 

White porcelain, three drawn on eyes made with black marker, smudged and ruined. A large painted of grin, dripping and red, like blood. Her bangs curled over the mask as though it was her face. In her hands was a clipboard.

 

Black plastic, silver handle, bunches of white paper with red dripping words on them. He could make out a few of the notes written.

 

Johnny Torres: Patient One, avoidance. 

 

Ian Lenor: Patient Two, avoidance. 

 

Rowan Cleaver: Patient Three, avoidance. 

 

Elias : Patient Four, avoidance.

 

Asa Diamandis : Patient Five, liar.  

The staircase seemed as though it would never end, winding and golden, dripping down like tears. Gold tears, a divine thing. Gold blood, a divine thing. Gold, a divine thing.

 

Was this staircase made of her divinity, curling like DNA strands, hidden implications of her inhumanity? 

 

The woman came to a stop and turned to look over the staircase, there was nothing below them but a large abyss.

 

“ Here is our stop!” 

 

The woman cheered, and then she jumped off the staircase, falling over the railing and down below them into nothingness. Johnny reached forward, an outstretched hand to stop her, the staircase crumbled and soon enough he was following her. Down, down, down. 

 

…

 

Confusion sat waiting, watching, looking up from her place in the forest.

 

It was winding, a never ending loop, a perfect place for her to dwell. 

 

The paths all led back to her, those who visited would be lost and trapped. Confused as she was, until they had passed her tests. Until she was satisfied with what she had gained.

 

She heard a loud screeching sound, someone falling, a dark speck against the blinding and swirling night sky. Then a thump, someone hitting the ground. Impact. 

 

She sat at her branch and picked lint off of her outfit, she would wait for him to come to her, and when he did she would force him to face what he had been avoiding. After all, he was as much her patient as he was Insanity’s. 

 

…

 

Elias sat up from where he had hit the ground, there was a forest around him. The sky was dark and swirling with blue and yellow colors.

 

Van Gogh’s, Starry Night.  

 

The forest laughed at him, trees curling and bending, he scrambled to his feet and began to walk down the trail in front of him. He knew what this was, and he was rather annoyed for having been dragged in here. He didn't need to be helped. He was perfectly fine, nothing to discuss beyond that. 

 

The flowers mocked his thoughts. Laughed and cajoled him, threw past words back at him. 

 

The flowers.

 

Lily of the valley; A symbol of purity, joy, love, sincerity, happiness and luck. 

 

Lily of the valley; containing a toxin, cardiac glycosides, affecting the heart. 

 

An omen as much as it was a blessing.

 

Down, down, down the trail Elias walked. Long and arduous the road, wild flowers and winding paths. Rusted signs pointing in directions that made no sense. He found himself curling the same tree for twenty minutes and huffed lashing out with his tail and spinning around to walk the other way.

 

A laugh stopped him in his tracks.

 

“Have you figured it out?”

 

He turned around, a woman sat above him on a tree branch. A large willow tree, mournful and crying. She wore a rather modest and simple outfit of lace. A high buttoned collar, flowering sleeves, a trailing skirt touching the frozen grass beneath her. 

 

It was winter now, icy winds in the forest, the sky was purple and orange. Stars shining and burning. 

 

The woman tilted her masked head. There were three faces on it. One faced right, a smiling face with bright blue eyes, it was made of brown wood. The middle, made of gold, neutral and closed eyed. The left, made of glass, a crying face with a graceful frown. Bundles of white hair tumbled down her body like water, flowing in the snowflaked wind. 

 

“Figured what out?” Elias found there was no harm to ask the Aspect, perhaps she would guide him, much to his dismay she did  not.

 

“Eh, what do you mean?” 

 

“You asked me if I figured it out?”

 

‘I did?”

 

“Yes!” 

 

‘No, I didn't.”

 

“But you did.”

 

“But I did not.”

 

“I- nevermind.” 

 

Elias turned to wander the path again and ignored the frustrating Aspect behind him, and then she called down, a grin heard in her words.

 

“How is Creation? Are you still torn?”

 

Elias turned, blood draining from his face, she knew about him and Cirro. If she knew then surely The Fabric knew, Bela knew, which meant Cirro- Cirro could be in danger now.

 

He stalked to the tree and grabbed the lace hem of her dripping dress. It was raining now, her hair hung limp around her head, the sky a mess of pinks. 

 

“Torn about what!” 

 

A demand.

 

“You know..”

 

A laugh, a question, no answer.

 

“No, I think I don't know.” 

 

“Oh, but you do.”

 

She was behind him now, she towered over him, curling hands on his shoulder, masked lips near his ear.

 

“Don't you love him?”

 

“I-”

 

“Don't you adore him?” 

 

Silence, fear palpable.

 

“To the point of..?”

 

A thick swallow, tears building, tail flickering. 

 

Clawed hands digging into skin, neck stretching impossibly to crane at him and his frozen expression. 

 

Three faces, eyes wide open, looking at him. Searching, searching, searching. 

 

“Answer me, Destruction, there is no room for hesitation here.”

 

A heartbeat, barely less than a second, an answer.

 

“Destruction.” 

 

Silence then, a neck reaching back, hands loosening, it was sunny now. A flower field around them, a clock chiming in the distance.

 

“No more confusion, my child?”

 

A sigh, an answer without words, a relief from a weight untold. 

 

A laugh, a winding clawed hand patting his head like a child. 

 

“You are lost, let me guide you.” 

 

Confusion took Destruction down the flower field, down the hill, down, down, down an invisible road. The flowers watched, smiled, and laughed. 

 

The flowers.

 

Iris; self-acceptance, courage, and wisdom.

 

—

 

Insanity looked at her list from where she sat in her parlor of an office, a tea table in front of her, gingerbread men playing on the red ruby cloth. 

 

Johnny Torres: Patient One, avoidance. 

 

Ian Lenor: Patient Two, avoidance. 

 

Rowan Cleaver: Patient Three, avoidance. 

 

Elias : Patient Four, avoidance.

 

Asa Diamandis : Patient Five, liar.  

 

She smiled and reached for a teacup nearby, red liquid spilling down her bloodied mask as she pretended to drink. It disappeared before it could touch her clothes and the teacup shattered as she placed it back down.

 

Four patients left. 

 

—

 

Love sat among her domain. The statues of those she cared for decorated the endless plane of pink tinged water laden with rose petals of varying shades. A large bed, decorated with seashells laid in what seemed to be the middle of the neverending void. 

 

Mirrors strung from an unseen ceiling on pearled strings, each one reflecting a different person. A different life, a different love. 

 

She sat among the silk sheets of the bed, her veil hiding her cracked and tearstained porcelain face. Her ball joints creaked with each movement, her patient stepped forward, careful steps in the water. 

 

He was barefoot now, shroud in a white outfit. Leggings, and a simple shirt.

 

Love looked upon him, he looked back, hair shifting subtly in an unseen wind. Rose scents carried in the breeze, petals and water lilies crawling across the water. 

 

“Johnny Torres. Welcome, you find yourself before Love.” 

 

—

 

Love was both everything and nothing that Johnny expected. She did not seem gentle and heart shaped, like a cherub, as he had expected. But she looked rather, what Love felt like. Broken and cracked, rough and soft and equal measure. Broken, sharp edges, soft shifting words and movements. 

 

Love is both painful and gentle, soft and loving, rough and hateful. 

 

He knew this because he felt it well enough over the years, everytime he looked at Ian. 

 

A mixture of bitter pain of things long past, and shifting ever growing adoration for what he had now. 

 

Love carried herself carefully, she slid off the bed and approached him, she was rather tall. Much taller than him at least, close to The Fabric’s height. Was her height affected by Bela’s emotions, how much she felt? Did it mean she felt Love enough for her to be as big as she was?

 

Love directed Johnny around the water filled void, the sounds of waves crashing filled his ears. It was rather peaceful, save for the sound of crunching broken glass from the woman beside him. She wore a thick white veil, underneath she wore a pinned tube dress, white with pink edges and golden winding designs. On her skin was white markings, marred by blackened cracks against warm brown seemingly porcelain skin. 

 

Her hair was long, brushing the floor in drifting curls, shaped like clouds. She had a halo above her, dripping like liquid tears and decorated with eyes; pink with heart shaped pupils. They darted around, lingering most often on him. 

 

“Love, what are we doing here?” 

 

Love turned to him, her veil shifting, it had lace edges. Soft compared to what was likely a harsh fabric. 

 

“You feel Love often, yes?” 

 

Johnny nodded, he wasn't ashamed of it, he felt Love for much but mainly he felt it for him. 

 

Love seemed satisfied by this smile and stopped them before a broken marble statue.

 

Void.

 

Love knelt down on the floor, she reached his chest still as she knelt. And she touched the cracked and marred statue with gentle hands. 

 

“Why is this broken?” Johnny found himself asking, after all, he knew that despite Void having to kill Bela that the woman loved Void more than words. He saw them trailing around the gardens often, Bela showing off all the different flora and fauna with joy. Each time he saw them they would end up dancing, rather than talking, their preferred language. 

 

Love stayed silent for a time and withdrew her hand before craning her head to look at Johnny. 

 

Her words were ice cold, there was no love found in them. 

 

“She betrayed me.” 

 

Johnny considered this, he knew what it felt like being betrayed by a loved one. Elenor came to mind, how she had hurt him, how he had never recovered from this betrayal. How he resented the other woman. 

 

And then he thought, briefly, of Ian himself. 

 

His love, leaving him. It hurt beyond measure, but he had allowed himself to heal from that hurt, to push forward and find a new life, a new way of living with a second chance at love. 

 

Love; you give them your heart, pain is to be expected, but what comes with it in the closure, the resolve. One must be vulnerable to Love, and to be vulnerable is to be hurt, no matter how little one will always be hurt by Love. 

 

It is simply Love’s nature. To hurt and be hurt. To figure and be forgiven. 

 

Johnny knelt down beside Love, craning his head to look at her.

 

“Tell me how.” 

 

“She broke The Fabric’s, my Laws. She hurt others under my name. She betrayed all I stood for.” 

 

“And did she tell you why?”

 

“Yes.”

 

"Why did she do it, surely there’s another reason you're so torn up over this.” 

 

“She did it out of Love.” 

 

“And that hurt you, didn't it. To be lied to and deceived by one you loved.” 

 

“I don't know how to forgive her…”

 

“I think,” he hesitated and placed a hand on a cracked shoulder, her white markings glowed, the mirrors reflected images of Ian back at him.

 

“I think it starts with a dance.” 

 

Love stared at him, and looked back at the statue. The cracks were golden now, healing themselves, kintsugi, a practice of sealing cracks while showing the imperfections. 

 

To be human is to be imperfect, and Void had been imperfect for ages. She had been human without knowing it, human in her reactions, her Rules and orders. Searching for something to control. Just like Johnny. 

 

For a brief second, Johnny thought to himself, maybe, just maybe…

 

Maybe that therapist was onto something.

 

And then he groaned at the thought, for he was not one to admit when someone else was right about him. It was frustrating being told things about himself that he should surely have known. Having someone else figure it out for him, that was something he was never fond of. Being read so easily by others, unless it was him of course. Unless it was Ian.

 

Love stood up and placed gentle hands on both sides of Johnny’s face, bringing her veiled face forward she placed what was likely a gentle kiss on his cheek. Pulling back she had what seemed like a smile in her voice as she spoke.

 

“Let Love guide you, let us both move forward.” 

 

Pink water rained from the sky then, mirrors glinting showing images of loved ones. Void stared back at Love. Ian stared back at Johnny. The rain built, the water rose to waist and then chest level. 

 

Johnny held his breath as he went under the pink water, rose petals swirling around him, and then he found he had no reason to hold his breath at all. For he could breathe under the water. Love floated before him and grabbed his hands, guiding him down through what used to be the floor, it moved around them like jello. Molding over their bodies as they swam down into a petaled watery abyss. 

 

—

 

Johnny Torres: Patient One, avoidance. 

 

Ian Lenor: Patient Two, avoidance. 

 

Rowan Cleaver: Patient Three, avoidance. 

 

Elias : Patient Four, avoidance.

 

Asa Diamandis : Patient Five, liar.  

 

Insanity smiled, and tapped her finger against a wooden doll sat in front of her. It had button eyes, one fell off and rolled down to a mouse hole. A shadowed hand reached out from the hole and snatched the button up.

 

Insanity laughed.

 

Three patients left.

 

—

Envy wandered the halls on her domain, a winding mansion. Full of staircases coated in blood, made of old marbled wood. Dark and haunting. Some stretched for eons, laden with gold and jewels, others broken halfway dropping into a deep abyss laden with golden webs. Spider webs. 

 

Her jeweled and bageled hands glistened in the light of the oil lamps. Making small noises along with her feet, her spider appendages clicking against the ground. Tick, tick, tick. Small little indications of her arrival, the creeping feeling of envy. Right in the back of one's mind.

 

She heard a sound, a yell, a call. She smiled, her fangs poked out from behind red coated lips. 

 

Her patient was here.

 

—

 

Rowan wandered the large mansion, yelling random words and hearing them echo back at him. Where in the hell was he? And why was he here again? 

 

This was Bela’s mind, last time he was here it was cause she was having a meltdown did she have another. How bad was it to grab him from another dimension. He felt a pang of worry, was that why her mind was so different now, so strange and twisted? 

 

Clicking and scuttling sounds behind him forced him to turn, he yelped and practically threw himself back.

 

“WHAT THE HELL?” 

 

A woman was before him, her body laden with furs. Mink and fox, white and black expensive furs. Bangles with jewels and heavy necklaces. Tall, much taller than one should be, she loomed over him. Her body was willowy and thin. Her lower body transformed into a spider, black with red markings like a widow. 

 

She smiled at him with red stained lips, fangs poking out, sharp green eyes. Slanted and catlike. Long straight hair reaching the floor, spreading like a web. Dark and thick. 

 

She seemed to not be surprised by his rather rude reaction, instead laughing at it, lifting a hand to her mouth as she threw her head back. 

 

‘Ah! Little mush, you are too funny.” 

 

Rowan kept baking away until he was at least six feet from her, she crossed her arms and tilted her head at him. 

 

“Little mush, do you know why you're here?” 

 

“Well obviously not, or else I wouldn't be here!” 

 

She laughed again, loud and rich, full of life. She examined him with her sharp eyes, gazing up and down at his shivering form.

 

She held out a hand, as though it would reach him across the distance between them. Her nails were sharp, curled and clawlike. Laden with pearl strings and rings of heavy jewels. 

 

“Envy.” Her words were simple, short and elegant. Rowan moved forward and shook her hand after a time, he only touched it with his forefinger and thumb however. Jerking back and dropping her hand after a moment and wiping his own on his clothing. 

 

Envy laughed at him again and turned around, gazing at him over her shoulder.

 

“Follow me.”

 

Rowan had no choice but to follow. 

 

…

 

The two walked in silence for a time and then Envy spoke once more.

 

"You envy people terribly.” 

 

Rowan startled and looked up at her, his neck hurt from how far he had to crane it up. Her pace was slow to keep up with him, her legs barely moved. 

 

“What, no I don't.” 

 

“You cannot lie to Envy, Rowan.” 

 

Rowan went silent, scoffing and looking to the side. Envy stared at him, boring holes into the side of his head.

 

“Let’s list your envious traits then, hmm?”

 

She didn't wait for an answer.

 

“You envy Jasper; his looks, his legacy, his bloodline and his magic.”

 

Rowan shook his head, deny, deny, deny it he decided. Envy continued with her list, placing his thoughts out in the open in the worst way possible, forcing him to confront himself. No more avoidance. 

 

“You envy Johnny; his smarts, his skills, his normalcy.” 

 

“You envy Thea; her height, her strength, her strategies.” 

 

“You envy Cirro; his looks, his power, his choices, him.”

 

“You envy Elias; his abilities, his words, his composure, him.” 

 

“You envy Bela; her power, her smile, her cheerfulness, her.” 

 

“You envy everyone you love, your love comes with it, a package deal.”

 

“No! I don't, I don't envy anyone. After all, they should all envy me, I'm such a catch, a great friend, a picture perfect example of smarts and power!” 

 

“We both know you don't believe these boasts, little mush.” 

 

Envy stopped and turned to him, he stumbled back into a golden web laden with pearls and found himself stuck to it, unable to move an inch. Forced to look into Envy’s green eyes. 

 

“Face it, you envy people, and you hate yourself for the same things you envy them for.” 

 

Rowan felt tears bubble into his eyes, he refused to let them fall, a defiant stare into acid green eyes. 

 

Envy moved closer, her clawed hands resting on his shoulder as she loomed over him.

 

“Accept it, accept me.” 

 

Rowan denied and denied and denied. 

 

Envy leaned in, fangs in view, red painted lips. Bloodstained, not lipstick. 

 

“You. Envy. Everyone.” 

 

Rowan…

 

Rowan couldn't deny it anymore.

 

A single tear fell down his face. Envy leaned back and stared at him, she smiled. Bloody lips stretching. The web broke, the pearls shattered and crunched under the force of shadowed bats reaching up and flying through the hole the web had laid on. 

 

Rowan fell, down, down, down. 

 

Shadowed hands grabbing him, catching him in his fall. A voice followed him down to where he lay.

 

“You are envious, it is not something to be ashamed of, it is simply..”

 

The last word echoed around him, damning.

 

“Human.” 

 

The hands let him go and he fell down into icy water, laden with discarded jewels. Fish swam past him, lantern fish. He saw a light below him and swam toward it, tears dripping from his face and rising in the murky water. The light grew closer. 

 

Envy remained in the mansion and smiled down at the hole, she moved away, spider legs clicking against the floor. 

 

He would be fine, after all, he had finally accepted her. 

 

Acceptance; the first step to healing. 

 

—

 

Johnny Torres: Patient One, avoidance. 

 

Ian Lenor: Patient Two, avoidance. 

 

Rowan Cleaver: Patient Three, avoidance. 

 

Elias : Patient Four, avoidance.

 

Asa Diamandis : Patient Five, liar. 

 

Insanity crossed off yet another name, the clock chimed, the cuckoo bird snuck out. It was eaten by the hawk. The wooden doll stood, it danced for her, eyes clattering to the ground, the singular button rolling on the tiled floor. The doll hit the ground, sliding off her desk, shattering into bursts of colorful fireworks. 

 

Insanity grabbed a teacup of whiskey nearby and poured it onto the sparking doll, it turned into water halfway through the fall and doused the colorful sparks. 

 

The remnants of gingerbread men scattered the table, crumbs now. Their fighting had turned violent, no survivors. Insanity had watched with glee, cheering them on. 

 

Two patients left. 

 

—

 

Shame sat on her rock, as was usual. The waves, dark and foaming, crashed against her. Her tail, torn and bloodied fins, lay against the dark gray of the rock. Her tail almost blended into the rock, what with the low light of the moon barely illuminating her. She hummed under her breath and picked at the flower in her hand. 

 

A lilly. 

 

White, spattered with blood. Stained. Shame stains everything. 

 

She sighed and let the flower drop into the waves, they tore the delicate flora to shreds almost instantly. Behind her she could hear sand crunching, someone approached. 

 

Her patient.

 

She did not turn, she looked at the moon and waited for him to speak.

 

“Where am I? Where’s Johnny?” 

 

She turned on the rock, slowly dragging her tail. It was spattered with old blood stains, ruined scales dripping new blood to further stain herself. Shame will always be ruined and stained. The man looked at her, she did not smile at him. It was not nice to meet new people, they always carried such a heavy shame when they visited her. 

 

“Ian Lenor, what shame do you carry?” 

 

—

 

Ian looked at the woman in front of him, curled black hair. White bloodstained lilies decorating her curls, piled at the side of her head. As though they were tucked behind her ear. Large fins, torn and gray sprouted where ears would have been. They twitched as he moved. 

 

The woman had black eyes, no iris, no pupil. Beaded eyelashes, like dewdrops clung to them. A frown decorated her face and the gills on her neck flared softly as she breathed shallowly. 

 

He swallowed deeply and considered her question. He knew what he carried shame for. Everything, mostly. But everything was too broad. If this was anything like what he thought it was then he was going to have to get specific. 

 

“Myself.” 

 

The woman tilted her head, her hair shifted over the white shredded remains of a wedding dress clinging to her chest. It ended around her abdomen, bloodied red and shredded by claws. Claws which clung to the rock beneath her. She leaned forward, crawling across the long rock and coming closer to him. Her tail made a hissing sound as it was dragged. 

 

“Why?” 

 

Her eyes were like miniature black holes, staring deeply into his own. He found himself desperately wanting to talk looking into her eyes, a chance to spill his guts to someone who could understand him. Who better to talk to about shame than Shame itself. 

 

“I’m-” He broke off and huffed deeply, his breaths coming up labored and thick with unshed tears.

 

“I'm an abomination, I don't fit in anywhere. I am a monster, and a soldier, and a demon, and violent but I am never considered a person, never considered human.” 

 

Shame sighed, her face was streaked with bloodied scratches and tears. Black mascara dripped from her eyes, or was it her tears? She leaned back, sitting herself down just before Ian. The waves crashed harder against the strong, splashing her body and her scales. Blood running, staining the water. Shame will always stain things, always, it is her nature. 

 

Shame did not speak as Ian continued, she allowed him to talk, for she knew if she interrupted he would not open up again. Her powers of persuasion were always difficult on those with as much shame as he held, for they were too used to it be affected by it, the crushing guilt that came with her. 

 

“I’m too unique,” he spat the word like acid, ”my ears, my height, my strength. It all marks me as other, as something else, never as one, never as someone in a collective. I am an outcast in every sense of the word.” 

 

Shame knew this well, she knew everything well, she knew what he would say before he said it. But did he? No, he did not, these were things he had felt too much shame to speak aloud, only within her presence would he acknowledge it. 

 

“I fail everyone. I fail at grieving; instead of grieving like everyone else I went on rampages, murdered and killed, stole lives from people. I eat like a monster, I act like a monster, I am a monster. And monsters like me, they're never happy.” 

 

Shame, a shame so heavy it suffocated. 

 

She reached up and picked a lilly from her smoke like hair, bundles of curls brushed her hand. She held the flower forward, placing it in front of Ian’s face. 

 

“You feel Shame, as everyone else. Shame is human. You are human in all the ways that matter.” 

 

Ian cried bitter tears at her words, his ears drooping down in response to his emotions. 

 

“Shame, my name, my Aspect. I know you well, Ian Lenor, you know me well. We have known each other for years and yet,” She placed the flower into his limp hand, his fingers tightened around it unconsciously, “ you never acknowledged me, until now.” 

 

“She placed a hand on his cheek, clawed with webbed fingers. Bloodstained, his face held no stains as she pulled back. Shame only stains those it clings too. 

 

“I release you, Ian Lenor, from my company.” 

 

The waves splashed up, hiding her from view. As they crashed down, foam covered the rock, it was empty now. Shame had vanished. The flower Ian held was white and pristine. No longer bloodstained. 

 

He looked around, off to the side behind a shroud of fog lay a wooden and broken path of slabs. He followed the path, the fog grew thick around him, and he vanished from view.

 

Shame peeked her head over the water she had hidden under, murky and bloody. Shame watched him leave, free from her grasp, and swam under the water. Down, down, down. Shame is a deep and heavy emotion, it goes for miles. And Belladonna? She was full of it. 

 

—

 

Johnny Torres: Patient One, avoidance. 

 

Ian Lenor: Patient Two, avoidance. 

 

Rowan Cleaver: Patient Three, avoidance. 

 

Elias : Patient Four, avoidance.

 

Asa Diamandis : Patient Five, liar. 

Insanity crossed another name off her list and thumbed the paper. One last name stared up at her, she smiled, and then frowned. Now this one, this one was new. She wanted to see where she’d go. Who would she visit? 

 

Insanity always loved to get the reports of her patients, they were just so interesting, and this one? She really wanted to know about her.

 

—

Insecurity adjusted her glasses for the seventh time in the past five minutes, thumbing over the mirrored surface. They reflected the walls surrounding her. 

 

It was a small room, white walls with yellow trim. Peeling wallpaper, cracked floor tiles. An abandoned fireplace in front of her. She sat in an old and cracked brown leather chair.  The table by her side separating her from the other chair was covered in dust. 

 

The whole room was dusty, abandoned. Not visited often.

 

Insecurity didn't mind, after all, why would anyone visit her?

 

The carpet was water stained, old and elaborate designs. Faded from time. It was lopsided beneath the chairs and the table, over the tiled floor. A large sliding door was behind her, it opened. Someone entered, the door slid shut without any touches. A latch clicked, it was locked now. 

 

Insecurity sat still in her chair and waited for the person to walk forward, their heels clicked against the floor and were muffled then by the carpet as they sat themselves down. 

 

Insecurity turned then, her curled ponytail sweeping over her shoulder, drifting down her black and pristine blazer. 

 

“Asa Diamandis, how lovely it is to see you.” 

 

She smiled with cracked lips.

 

Asa did not smile back. 

 

—

 

Asa was nervous, terribly so, after falling into an abyss and ending up here she wasn't exactly having a picture perfect day. Especially with the added workload of her new patients. 

 

“Why am I here?” A question, something she could ask. Knowledge, something she could obtain. 

 

“You must face what you have lied about, Asa Diamandis.” 

 

Asa bit her lip and gazed around her, what had she lied about? What lie would force her to be regarded before an Aspect, to be dragged into a cognition. What lie could she possibly need to face? 

 

“Who are you?” 

 

“You do not recognize me?” 

 

“No.”

 

“You feel me often, I am surprised you do not know me by name.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“Look around you, figure it out, you're a smart woman.” 

 

Asa gazed around the room again, a lie, what had she lied about. What would require her being here, what could it be? 

 

She looked at the floors; cracked and broken. The room, dusty and abandoned. The wallpaper, yellow and peeling. The walls, white and clean. Hiding behind something, a lie of color. 

 

“You lie about your emotions.” 

 

Asa studied the room further, she tried to block out what the woman was saying, she needed to leave soon. She had so much work to do, and no matter how interesting this was, she wasn't fond of being treated as though she had issues. 

 

Asa was fine, she had to be. How else could she help anyone? 

 

How else could she help them? 

 

“You are not as confident as you appear.” 

 

Confidence, is that what this was about? How had she lied about confidence? Aas wasn't one to boast, to build herself up. She reacted and talked off of facts, facts were simple, easy, safe. 

 

Confidence, she was confident. Confident in her motto. That was all she was confident in, she couldn't have lied about that. Everyone can be helped. Everyone. 

 

“Liar.” 

 

She jerked back to the woman, a frown marring her face. 

 

“Who. Are. You.” 

 

The woman laughed and picked dust off of her flared pants. White, perfect, pristine. Her heels were black, closed toed. Her mirrored sunglasses reflected Asa back at her. She looked panicked, her eyes wide and afraid. 

 

“I,” the woman, placed a hand splayed across her chest, “ am Insecurity.” 

 

Then she pointed at Asa.

 

“And you my dear, are not as confident as you like to claim.” 

 

…

 

Asa did not speak as the woman continued to analyze her, she refused to. 

 

It was as simple as a fact, the woman talked and Asa would not speak. 

 

The woman told her that she was not confident in her patients, that she was afraid for them, that her motto only came from her mother’s death rather than a genuine desire to help. 

 

Asa did not regard these. The woman couldn't possibly know all these things about Asa, surely she was just guessing.

 

 It hurt though, that she was guessing correctly. 

 

Asa’s mother, Ruby, had died when she was sixteen. She had lost her to a long battle with her depression, and Asa refused to lose anyone else. She longed to help those that couldn't help themselves, to make sure no one else went through the pain she had. It’s why she took on Belladonna's case. 

 

A balm, a soothing touch, against her mother’s death. A way to right a wrong she could have never fixed. A way to save someone she never had the chance to. Belladonna was scarily similar to Asa’s mother, scarily similar. The only difference? Belladonna had powers, ways to take her frustrations out on others and a deep mania that affected her daily. Asa’s mother had nothing but her fragile mind and the feeling that Death would be kinder than Life. 

 

Insecurity seemed to sense her thoughts and she stopped talking. A latch clicked behind Asa. She shifted to her feet and rushed to the door. It was open now.

 

She turned around, Insecurity was gone, the chair was empty. 

 

She faced the door, and walked through. There was a stone staircase leading deeper done, it was long and faded into a deep fog. 

 

Asa took a steadying breath and began to walk down the stairs. 

 

Hopefully she'd be able to leave soon, she didn't know what she'd do if she couldn't. Already this palace was driving her insane. 

 

—

 

Insanity discarded her clipboard and list on the crumb covered table. The sparking doll lay at her feet. When she stood up she crushed it below her heel. She grabbed at the intercom near her desk and tapped it twice with a gloved finger. 

 

Then she spoke into it. 

 

“Acceptance? You're needed in the Lower Spiral.” 

 

—

 

Acceptance waited in the Lower Spiral. 

 

The Lower Spiral; a winding garden filled with white carnations, hedges of Aspects and their past images surrounded the flower field. Around them was a labyrinth filled with flora and fauna of all kinds, a winding tricky place. One would need a guide to reach here. 

 

First came Confusion, then Love, and Envy, Shame, Insecurity. 

 

They found themselves in the flower field, in the middle lay a bloom. A rather large bloom, stuck in a gilded silver cage. Sparkling and shining in the moonlight of the garden. 

 

The bloom shifted, grew and opened. It was rather big, but the occupant of the bloom was rather small. 

 

A woman, small like a fairy. A pixie even, what with her trickster grin. 

 

She sat up, yawned and stretched and floated up from the flower, large butterfly wings of blue and purple fluttering behind her. They caught the moonlight and reflected like glass. She fluttered to the front of the cage, where the patients stood waiting for her. 

 

Her eyes were entirely golden, dripping with tears. Her eyelashes beaded as though the tears clung to them, melding into the dark lashes. Her body was covered in little white flower petals, a winding dress of flowers. White carnations. 

 

White carnations; purity and good luck. 

 

A gift, a hope, for those in front of her. 

 

Her hair was long and curled, dark against her warm brown skin. 

 

As she stopped and sat on the bars above the patients, Love stepped back, away from her. 

 

“You.” 

 

It came as a gasp, a fear, an unspoken dread. 

 

“Me.” 

 

“Johnny, do you know this one?” Shame asked, stepped forward to offer comfort, Johnny took it gratefully. 

 

“How do you not recognize her?!” he practically demanded, though it was softened, Johnny could never hold rage at Ian. he could never hurt Ian like that. 

 

Envy startled, examined the pixie and stumbled back with widened eyes. 

 

“WHAT ARE YOU SOME KIND OF OMEN OF DEATH?!”

 

Acceptance considered him, and then spoke.

 

“If you want me to be, then I suppose I am.” 

 

“I don't want you to be one though!” 

 

“Then I am not.” 

 

Elias stepped forward, frowning, eyebrows furrowed. 

 

“Who are you?” 

 

“Acceptance.” 

 

“Why are we here?”

 

“You are here so you can accept.”

 

“Accept what?”

 

“Me.” 

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why must we accept you?”

 

“So you may leave.”

 

“Leave where?”

 

“Here.”

 

Elias huffed and moved back, walking over to Johnny.

 

“She’s speaking in riddles, what does she mean?” 

 

Johnny looked around, he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed heavily. Ian rested his hand on his shoulder, the touch grounded Johnny. 

 

He moved forward, and talked.

 

“Let us leave.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“You haven't accepted it yet.”

 

“Accepted what?”

 

“Your truths.”

 

“Our truths.”

 

“Your appointments.”

 

“I accept Love.”

 

“Then you may leave.”

 

“I want to leave through the door.”

 

“There is no door.”

 

“Yes there is.”

 

“I suppose there is.” 

 

“I want everyone else to leave with me.”

 

“But they haven't accepted yet.”

 

“Yes they have.”

 

“...”

 

“I suppose they have.”

 

“They may leave.”

 

“And I want to know what happened to Bela.” 

 

“The mind shattered,”

 

“Shattered?!” 

 

“Shattered, yes. The mind has reshaped itself. We are reborn.”

 

“Is she alright?”

 

“Do you want her to be?”

 

“Rowan, calm down, I’m sure she’s fine.”

 

“THIS PIXIE JUST SAID HER MIND SHATTERED, HOW WOULD SHE BE FINE AFTER THAT?!” 

 

“It's Bela, she always comes back from these things.”

 

“But how do we know she'll come back from this?!” 

 

“Trust me, I’m sure she’s fine, I’ll make sure she’s fine.”

 

Rowan took a calming breath and moved closer to the silver gateway door, the winding petals decorating it, the tree branches growing from the doorways cracks in the ground. It reminded him, strangely, of home. 

 

Johnny spent a few more minutes conversing, arguing technically, with Acceptance. Before she flew off into her bloom, much to Johnny’s dismay, and hid herself. Back to sleeping. He huffed and moved to the door.

 

Rowan wanted to ask him what they had been talking about but it was clear Johnnywas on the verge of a shutdown yet again, too much stress from today, too many revelations, too many unanswered questions and unresolved feelings. He needed a break terribly. 

 

Asa moved to the front of the group, taking one last look at the closed carnation bloom, and opened the door, stopping through and leaving the mind. The rest followed, after her hesitantly, each exchanging a look with one another. A vow, to meet up and share their information with the others. No more leaving people in the dark. 

 

This was beyond them and their expertise, a shattered mind especially from a goddess, was nothing to laugh at. 

 

—

Chapter 45: Fourty Five

Chapter by Honeydrrop, Jelly_zzz

Bela woke slowly, her head itched. This was the first thing she noticed. She could feel something thick and soft on her head, sort of like gauze. But why would she have gauze on her head? 

 

Did she fall down? Hit her head or something?

 

She kept her eyes closed as she surfaced closer to consciousness. She could hear talking and shuffling nearby, people were here. Who was it? 

 

Another set of kidnappers? In Bela’s opinion they had rather shitty tactics. After all, she could feel all her powers at her disposal, and the majority of her memories were intact, and last but not least, they had bandaged her wounds. Like seriously, no kidnapper worth their salt helps their victims. 

 

Bela wrote kidnapping off her mental list and moved onto the next details she could sense.

 

Both minds were rather subdued, two men, near her age, and clearly they were not having a fun time if the surface thoughts were any indication.

 

One person thoughts were on overload, quiet though and soft, but their mind flashes between one point to the next rather quickly and then-

 

The mind went quiet, like it had just shut down. Like Johnny usually did when things got to be too much for him. During these episodes she’d usually sit him down in her bedroom and turn off any stimulation, such as lights and noises, and sit in front of him muttering random spells to try and cheer him up. The repeating words seemed to help him at least, or so he said they did, so bela kept her tactic each time he had a shutdown. 

 

The other mind spiked in worry before calming and seemingly going on autopilot, grabbing things and moving them. She could hear the shift of papers and bottles and then the sound of a body being moved, placed down on something that sounded like metal. And then soft questions, no answers were given, but it seemed the other didn't need any verbal ones. 

 

A silent conversation, like the ones Ian and Johnny would have so often. 

 

Bela abandoned her search of the minds, her head was still foggy, too foggy for her to parse and look through their thoughts. And so she laid there, still at a loss of who had held her in this room. 

 

She focused on touch next. She could feel something cold beneath her, a metal table, like the ones in the lab. Was she in the lab then? Did the minds belong to Johnny and Ian? 

 

This made sense, at least, a little. But how did she end up in the lab, and why was she wearing such a short outfit? 

 

The last one was a thought she clung to the most. Because last she remembered she was wearing a knee length, thick velvet dress. This dress was thin, soft, and short. Reaching the middle of her thighs with a silk hem. 

 

She could hear more shifting, she stayed still on the table, and felt as someone picked her up. Carrying her in strong arms, like a damsel in distress. The thought made her a bit sour, she tried not to let her face shift, she didn't know if whoever was carrying her was watching. 

 

A beat passed, and then she was set back down on a cloth covered table. She could feel a body nearby, warm and curled up, limp and blank. The shutdown mind then. 

 

Johnny?

 

She reached out with her magic, let it brush against the mind, it didn't react. But it was enough for her to confirm the identity. Johnny was beside her, in the midst of a shutdown. 

 

Then that had to mean..

 

She reached out again, brushed against the other mind more boldly, and felt it react. A hand grabbed at her own, cold and flickering. Clawed fingers curled against hers.

 

“Bela?” 

 

Bela took in a breath, and let her eyes open. She was staring at a ceiling, the lab ceiling. 

 

There were strips of white in the corner of her vision, she frowned and lifted a hand to grab and remove them. A brown hand with gold flecks came up and grabbed her wrist, stopping it from grasping at the gauze strips.

 

“Don't touch that, you had a head injury.” 

 

Ian leaned into view above her, his shadowed hand leaving her own. 

 

“Can you count how many fingers I’m holding up?”

 

Bela frowned at him, pursing her lips and biting her cheek. Eyebrows furrowed.

 

“Yes, I don't have a concussion.”

 

Ian seemed relieved by this, pulling back and standing over at the side of her body as she sat up. She batted his hands away as he tried to help her. Her head wasn't foggy anymore, she felt fine, more than fine actually. She felt like she had chugged twelve different energy drinks all at once. 

 

She snickered at the image in her head and saw Ian frown in the corner of her eye. She sat up fully and leaned over to look at him, flicking him on the forehead as she asked.

 

“Soooo, why am I here?” 

 

Ian looked shocked, Bela didn't know why, after all if she had a head injury how did he expect her to know why she was here. 

 

“Y-you dont remember?”

 

Bela laughed again, a bit louder this time and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“Duh, of course I don't or I wouldn't be asking! Now spill it, why am I here?”

 

Ian blinked at her, she blinked back, and then she laughed again and again and then she doubled over laughing clutching her stomach. Her laughter echoed around the room, warm and full of life. 

 

This wasn't the fake happiness of mania, for some reason she felt a genuine happiness. 

 

For what was likely the first time in years, Bela laughed and she actually meant it. 

 

Ian of course, didn't know this and looked particularly stricken at her resounding laughter. He reached a hand out to try and snap her out of it, but she straightened before he could touch her. Wiping away tears from her eyes from how hard she had laughed she looked at him and cocked her head. Bringing her knees up to her body and resting her head on them.

 

“Ya gonna answer my question or?” She dragged out the r, letting it rest thickly on her tongue. Ian seemed at a loss for words and she took this as an ‘or’ and hopped off the table. 

 

Ian seemed startled by this, clearly not expecting her to move, or to try and leave which she was currently skipping toward the door. He practically ran forward and grabbed her by the wrist.

 

“Wait!”

 

She turned around, eyes wide and searching, clearly wondering why he had stopped her. Was this like some kind of game? Bela had no clue what kind of game this could be, but she was sure she could play it. 

 

So with a mischievous grin she teleported out of his grasp and to the wide arching doors, looking at the panicked man with a smile.

 

“You didn't say for how long!” She teased and then she pushed open the doors and ran through them quickly.

 

Ian shouted after her, some words she didn't catch, and bolted after her. She vanished in a mist of blue right at the entrance to the forest, leaving Ian behind confused and absolutely befuddled on what to do. 

 

…

 

Bela stood before the large mirror in the bathroom she shared with her wife, the one connected to their large personal quarters. 

 

She had discarded the strips and bandages of gauze on her face as soon as she could. They lay lonely in the trash can, she snapped her fingers and they burned into silver ashes by blue fire. 

 

It smelt like cinnamon and incense in the bathroom, a calming scent for Bela. 

 

She looked at her outfit, she didn't like it. Who the hell put her in white, she was so over this color by now. 

 

She spun around in the mirror, the dress swirled with her movements. She would just switch back to her other outfit but not only was it associated with her sentence now, it was also bloodstained. 

 

So Bela didn't want to wear it, like at all. 

 

Instead, she wanted to try something different. After all, she had a happy couple to congratulate, she might as well look the part for it when she visited them. 

 

So with a flourish she both changed her outfit and dimensions, as easily as one would breathe. 

 

…

 

Bela found herself in a rather empty area, white and desolate. A void, something she would be more comfortable in. 

 

So, she changed it.

 

A flourish, a wave of her hand, and the white void became a rather nice moonlit beach.

 

The waves crashing against the glowing golden sand, the half eaten moon watching above, the diamond trees swishing in the wind, and the sound of a voice yelling rather shrilly.

 

“FUCK SHE’S HERE!”

 

There was the sound of movement, someone hitting the ground in a dead weight, and a loud gasping breath as they woke. Then running, rapid and quick steps. 

 

Bela stood there and folded her arms behind her, humming a lullaby under her breath, one the stars sang to her often as she slept. 

 

The footsteps got closer, then they doubled back, and came closer yet again. Clearly they hadn't realized that they would end up in front of her no matter where they ran.

 

Bela decided she would give them a moment to figure it out. 

 

Besides, it was rather funny hearing Elias and Cirro try and run from her, why were they running anyway? 

 

Eventually the steps stopped, the duo slumped rather defeatedly to the ground in front of her, kneeling as though ready for an execution. She opened her eyes then, blue and glowing in the light. A smiled at them, serene and calm. The stars reflected off of her eyes, the shifting constellations of her star made hair shining in the dim. 

 

She leaned down, bending her upper body to lean over their knelt heads. They seemed to shake under her gaze, Bela didn't know why, she wasnt that scary right? 

 

Either way, she waited for one of them to speak.

 

After all, she already knew what she would say, but she wanted to know what they would say. Did they think she was playing a game with them? Or was it that they thought she was here to punish them, but why would she be punishing them. 

 

The only one she had punished was….

 

Her.  

 

The thought made her wrath palpable, the air shifting, the half eaten moon turning a bloody red. 

 

Cirro and Elias froze, Cirro found himself looking up at The Fabric first, because that’s what she had to be right then and there. Not Bela, not now. 

 

The Fabric stood with remnants of a serene expression. Her hair whipped around her in swirls like stormy clouds. It covered her eyes from view, her smile was all teeth. Her skin was sparking with light blue electricity, markings of stars and glimmering scars shining silver beneath the blood moon.

 

Cirro felt his eyes widen at the sight and he nearly threw himself over Elias, who squealed in surprise and wrapped his arms around Cirro’s waist. Both cried out at the same time.

 

“DON’T HURT HIM!”

 

The Fabric froze, leaned back, and considered them both. 

 

And then Bela smiled and threw her hands out like she was offering a hug.

 

“Hurt him? Hurt who? Why would I hurt anyone? Unless we were playing a game, then maybe I would. Are we playing a game?” 

 

Cirro and Elias opened their eyes, looking at her in shock. She dropped her arms and lifted one to her chin, tapping it to an invisible beat.

 

“Oh! Wait! I remembered why I was here, hold on, I have something for you two!” 

 

Bela reached a hand down and grabbed some sand, then she held it between cupped fingers and blew into her hand. The sand hardened into glass, she shaped it under the wide watch of the two Gods. When she opened her hands in it lay a golden and shimmering glass flower, in the shape of an orchid. 

 

Presenting it to them she watched as Eias reached up and numbly took it from her.

 

Then she clapped her hands together and smiled at them, the waves a soothing sound that helped clam to the two Gods, clearly Bela wasn't going to hurt anyone. In fact she seemed rather happy, and for once, rather stable. 

 

“Congratulations, you two! Ah, you're so cute together, I was waiting for you two to finally get together!” 

 

Elias sat there, mouth open and shocked. He had expected a lot from her having her mind shattered and rebuilt but this? This was something even he hadn't seen coming. But then again, maybe he should have expected it. After all, like Ian had reassured, Bela often survived and came out of situations most wouldn't. 

 

“You're, uh, not going to punish us?”

 

“Why would I?”

 

“It’s- it's against the rules?”

 

Bela froze, smile serene, wrath reappearing. Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. 

 

“ The rules are gone, only the Laws remain.”

 

Almost as soon the words left her mouth the atmosphere was peaceful again. Cirro and Elias shook where they sat, the force of her voice rattled them to the bone. 

 

“The Laws?”

 

Bela opened her eyes and sat down, graceful, her dress spilling around her in the sand like water. And she dragged her hands through the golden grains, making small drawings. Absent-mindedly of course, most of them turned out to be doodles of Void. 

 

She scratched them out when she noticed, a frown on her usually smiling face.

 

“Let me explain them to you, I have a feeling you two have been lied to for a long, long time.” 

 

…

 

Jasper found himself in a library. Not just any library though. 

 

This library was special. 

 

It was the one he was transported to after trying to find Bela.

 

Bela, of course, knew he would try this. Perks of being an omniscient being trapped in a human body perhaps. 

 

Either way, there the two sat, at a large and gradious tea table in the center of Everything. 

 

The Library of Purity. 

 

Golden climbing pillars, carvings of tales long past and those yet to come etched into metal walls. Blue velvet tapestries, winding stairs leading into the abyss of it all. Large balconies, gargoyles of creatures not yet known decorating their edges. Elaborate carpets, piled high and making footsteps nonexistent, as though walking on a cloud. 

 

The tea table itself was even more impressive.

 

Fabric made from the stars itself, blue and glowing and flowing like water drifting into smoke at the edges like a lace hem. Golden platters, high and low. Winding metal forks and spoons, craved with etchings of spells. Books and tomes, one for each universe he had asked about, sat next to the tray in front of him.

 

The tray held a singular muffin, blueberry and simple. An empty plate nearby, from where he had eaten three flans in a row, sat polishing its surface. Jasper was a bit horrified to realize all the silverware seemed to be sentient, which made him not so eager to eat his muffin.

 

Bela ate nothing. Which was strange, she had always mentioned enjoying eating, even though she didn't very well need to anymore. Something Jasper refrained from asking about, after all he didn't want to get too into the details of what it was like being trapped in a human body for an inhuman creature. 

 

To be honest, he felt a bit sorry for her, being so much more and being forced to be so much less. It reminded him of himself, that spell, his eye, the trauma he went through. Maybe that’s why he had sought her out to sort through his own swirling thoughts and feelings. 

 

Bela smiled at him, close mouthed and serene. She hasn't moved much since he had stopped talking. She looked for all the world, like a doll. A scratched doll, covered in silver winding scars and markings. Star made hair, silver and purple dress. Pearls draped over her. 

 

A doll, yes that was a fitting description. 

 

Bela seemed to catch onto his thoughts, or maybe she was just reading his mind.

 

“I had always liked dolls as a child, I’m flattered I could remind you of one.” 

 

Jasper flushed a bit, so she had been reading his mind. 

 

“No, you just think rather loudly and it’s difficult to block out thoughts so close to me.” 

 

Jasper flushed again, what did she mean by calling him a loud thinker?

 

Bela giggled, it sounded like a bell chime, and she lifted a glass teacup of swirling stars to her lips. Drinking it slowly, she opened her eyes and peered at him over the rim.

 

“Star child, star child, what do you wonder?” 

 

Jasper frowned and picked at his muffin, his thoughts were too much for him to sort through, he looked at the books instead. She had told him they would detail various things, such as the creation  of his universe from the view of the Universe’s watchers themselves. Along with that it may also provide a glimpse into the other universes, the ones he had seen from Morana’s portal. 

 

Bela followed his gaze, the teacup clicked as she put it down, and she grabbed a tome that looked far too heavy for anyone to pick up. It was thick with pages, various bookmarks peeking out from it. 

 

She held it out for him, and smiled, teeth showing.

 

“Take it, star child.” 

 

Jasper hesitated, his hand brushing against the large tome. He felt as though he was making a rather tedious deal, something that he may regret.

 

He took the tome.

 

She waved the others away, they vanished in a mist of blue.

 

“They will be awaiting you at home. Now,” 

 

She grabbed her glass and drained it, there was a small wooden star inside. Painted with swirling silver patterns. She grabbed it between two fingers and crushed it in her hand. It released a fine blue power, darker than her magic. 

 

She looked at him over her dust filled hand, her eyes squinted in an unseen smile as she blew the dust into his face. It turned to smoke and his vision clouded with spots of various blue shades.

 

“Go home, star child.” 

 

…

 

Asa Diamandis was not one to give up and give in.

 

So why was it that here she sat, giving up and giving in. 

 

She slumped against the wall, having spent the past few hours scouring the palace for Bela. 

 

No luck.

 

She wanted to find the woman, more for her sake than anything else, to put it plainly Asa was worried. 

 

She had helped many broken minds over the years, but a shattered mind, one that rebuilt itself? That was new. It terrified her, she didn't know what to do with the new. 

 

She heard footsteps, soft and silent. But not silent enough for her ears to miss the soft shuffle of their movement. 

 

She looked up, there was a woman in a long white dress with pure white hair in loose braids and locs. She had dark skin, it reflected the light like gold. She looked over her shoulder, clearly not seeing Asa’s hunched and hidden form, and disappeared down the Queen’s hall.

 

Asa frowned to herself, this woman, was this Vacantae?

 

Would she know where Bela was?

 

Asa found her feet lifting herself and soon enough she was following the woman. The woman was clearly in some sort of turmoil, muttering under her breath and distracted.

 

Asa reached forward, her hand brushing the woman's shoulder. 

 

Bad idea.

 

She found herself pinned to a wall, an arm against her throat and another holding a small knife near her widened eyes. 

 

“Who are you!” The woman demanded. Asa gulped deeply and struggled to speak past the arm pressing into the vulnerable skin of her throat.

 

“A-Asa Diamandis.” The woman held the knife closer to her face, and pressed her further into the wall.

 

“State your purpose.” 

 

“I- I was just seeing if you were alright! I swear!” 

 

The woman glared, and then a sad realization seemed to fall upon her, and she dropped her knife with a shaky gasp. Her arm fell limp and Asa gasped deeply for breath. She backed away, hands reaching for her face in some sort of horror or shock. 

 

Asa continued to stay against the wall, watching the other woman hit the ground and mutter words in a language foreign to Asa. Shakily, she reached out and this time the woman accepted her comfort. Leaning into the hand on her shoulder she looked up at Asa and said rather plainly.

 

“I have made her mad.” 

 

Asa, confused, asked her for clarification and was met with an answer that seemed to make many pieces click into place.

 

“My wife, Bela, I have upset her terribly. I have betrayed her deeply.” 

 

…

 

Bela found herself at a stop, one she knew would take a rather long time, for this reason she hoped that the game she had played with Ian was distracting him. 

 

She also hoped he hadn't told anyone else about it, save for Johnny, but then again Johnny could figure out what she was doing. He was smart enough. 

 

She just had to have hope this would be resolved quickly, and that she could cover it up before he came to a realization of the trips she was conducting.

 

She looked at the list in her hand, a small parchment of breathtaking glass. Shining and laden with carved golden cursive with each name.

 

Cirro and Elias, she crossed off.

 

Jasper, she crossed off.

 

Rowan, she did not cross off. 

 

He would be her last stop. 

 

She looked at the third name on the list, technically the fourth. 

 

She smiled then, eyes narrowing, this was sure to be a fun conversation. 

 

At the thought the doors to the chamber opened, and she hid herself, watching as the group entered. Led there by her little clues and jabs at them. 

 

After all, who said she had to be nice to any of them?

 

She just had to talk to them, that didn't mean she couldn't have a little bit of fun watching them squirm. 

 

Either way, they entered the room.

 

A fly in a spider's web, her trap set and sprung.

 

The doors slammed shut, held by her magic. Glowing a bright and mystical blue. The group seemed to expect this but unsettlement still invaded the air.

 

She stepped forward then, bangles ringing and indicating her appearance. The group turned. 

 

There were a lot of them, a lot. 

 

But Bela could easily deal with them should the need arise, trapped in a human body she may be. But she was nowhere near weak or vulnerable. 

 

She smiled at him, watched him glare back. Hatred in his eyes. It made her gleeful, she hadn't had someone look at her in such a way for ages, she forgot how adrenaline inducing it was facing someone who wanted you dead. 

 

She sat down, lounged across an unseen force, an invisible chair. Looking for all the world as though she had no care for the people slowly surrounding her. Weapons and magic alike held in their waiting hands. 

 

She nodded a head at him, mockingly of course, and watched his eyebrows furrow. Clearly he held no positive emotions for her. What was she? Some outlet of anger for him? Likely so. 

 

But still, she sat, and lounged, and smiled. Then she spoke. 

 

“Hello Lucas.” 

 

He didn't respond.

 

She spoke once more, the tension in the air of the meeting room thick. 

 

“The name's Bela. Lovely to finally meet you, my dear.” 

Chapter 46: fourty six

Chapter by Honeydrrop

As soon as the words left her mouth Bela realized just how rude some of these people could be. At least they let her get a proper introduction across though, she’ll give them that.

Either way, Lucas and Faranei lunged at her, Farnei screaming random curses that she couldnt be bothered to decipher. Just as they were about to hit her, she, well, vanished. 

Her body dissipated into smoke beneath their hands as though she had never been there, the smoke clouded their vision, suffocating them and forcing them to stumble to a halt. When it cleared she was nowhere to be seen, the rest of their rag tag group surrounding them in worry. 

And then-

Her voice, laughter, soft and mocking, echoed behind the group. They whirled around and there she stood leaning against a pillar. 

“Better luck next time, huh.” 

Lucas narrowed his eyes at her again, eyes flashing. She held both her hands up in a mocking version of surrender. 

“No need to be so angry, I’m just here to talk after all.”

“You kidnapped our friend!” 

“Nuh uh.”

“Wha-”

A rather incredulous look of shock painted his face as he stared at her.

“Fuck you mean, ‘nuh uh’?!” 

“I mean, nuh uh, that’s what I mean.” 

He practically growled at her, she smiled innocently in turn. His feet shifted beneath him, Faranei already running forward to try and tackle her yet again. She smiled at him, and held out her arms as though awaiting a hug. 

And then, just before he made contact, he skidded to a stop. 

Lionas, Lucas and Adam’s child, lay in her waiting arms. She blinked and stilted her head before a dazzling grin appeared on her face, her outfit shifting to something she had previously worn. A dark black corset, short leather shorts and thigh high boots. A top hat falling from her head and landing directly in the child's hands. 

“AH SO CUTE!” 

Her face was one of glee, the others watched in horror, besides Lucia who seemed to be mentally cackling at the turn of events. 

Bela held the child closer to her, eyes flicking up to watch everyone's reaction, their stares, the open mouths, the clear fear on their faces. Did they think she was going to hurt the child? 

She may be a terrible person to put it simply, but a monster that hurts children? That was far from her character. She loved children, they reminded her of better times. Back before…

Either way she held the child close and nabbed the hat back from him, placing it on her head gently, her curls bounced around the child's face and he grabbed at them with chubby hands. She cooed and flicked his nose with a finger before stepping forward and offering the child to a rather shocked Faranei. 

“You’re the one that’s madly in love with that peacock over there aren’t you! Well, take this child from me, I’d rather not piss your royal majesty off more than I planned too.” 

The peacock in question, Zaaz, was rather insulted and shocked by her description. Bela didn't know why, after all it was rather accurate. Faranei meanwhile took the child from her the way one would handle a rather disgusting object. 

The child froze in his hands, turned to look at Bela, back to Faranei and then began to scream rather loudly. Everyone covered their ears. Bela however, did not, she just snatched the child back and watched as he calmed down rather quickly. 

“Awe, he likes me.” 

Lucas stepped forward then, a hand held out and body tense with rage.

“Give me back my child, now.” 

“Well I would, but,” She smiled down at him and looked at Lucas with wide unblinking eyes, “he doesn't want to go.” 

Lucas lunged forward to snatch him away, she leaped back and laughed as a child playing a game of tag would. As her feet hit the ground under her when she landed, the scenery flipped and changed. 

The world around them was different now, no longer the meeting room in Hell, but rather a peaceful field dotted with tea tables and delicate wooden chairs. 

Each table housed a few members of the group, some sat alone, some together. 

Zaaz and Faranei sat together, both seemed to be annoyed by this but their tails flickered to touch the other slightly and Bela knew they were faking the hatred. 

Lucas, Ian - the one from this dimension - and Lucia sat at her table. The baby as well, sat in a chair pressed directly against Bela so she didn't have to hold him the entirety of the conversation. A few plush pillows decorated his chair, boosting his height. 

The chair was between her and Ian, opposite of Lucas. Something he immediately voiced his displeasure about in a rather formal and yet still vulgar manner. 

Bela simply ignored him, choosing instead to take a long sip of her cherry blossom tea. Lucia leaned in close to whisper in her ear as she set the cup back down.

“Girl, you have got to come here more often. This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks.” 

Bela smiled and subtly winked in turn, no worded response given but all the necessary agreement shown. 

Lucia laughed and grabbed for a croissant, biting into it harshly. Lucas frowned and refused to touch any of the food or drink on the table, Ian did the same. 

“So!”

Both men turned to look at her as she tapped a finger against her porcelain teacup. 

“I understand you are under the illusion that I ,” she looked up at him then from under her lashes,” killed Damian, yes?” 

“It’s no illusion, you wrote it yourself in his blood!” 

“Mm, nah, I just did it to take the heat off the actual killer. Also because I was bored.”

“Who else could have killed him then? The only ones there were you and…” 

“Bingo!”

“No- I- He couldn't have done it, it makes no sense, there’s no way he could have killed someone. Especially like- like that. ” 

“Oh, but he did! I was there honey, saw the whole thing with my own eyes. It was glorious, super entertaining!” 

“I-no- you’re messing with me! I refuse to believe this, besides Ian was there, he would have told me if Johnny killed Damian!” 

“Would he though?” 

A smile, a dark glare. A cough.

Ian shifted in his chair, ears drooping down. Lucas turned to look at him before his eyes widened, a clear look of despair. 

“..No.”

“I-I couldn't tell you. You were all so happy about me being back, about what it could mean for everyone. I didn't have the heart to tell you… what he did.” 

“No, he didn't, don't tell me…”

“I-I saw it. It’s why I avoided the lab. I couldn't go back there, knowing what happened, what I saw. It was all.. tainted now.” 

Bela’s eyes pingponged between them, watching as they argued. Their words echoing clearly through the meadow. Everyone heard it. 

She smiled and sipped at her tea, clinking the cup against Lucia’s’ before drinking. 

“You!” Her cup was thrown from her hands, crashing against the grass and melting into shadows. A shame. A pity. Unfortunate. 

She turned around and looked at the man who had knocked her cup from her hand rather apathetically. 

“Faranei, was it?” 

Zaaz stood behind him trying to wrestle the man back and away from the woman. 

“She’s clearly unstable, do you want her to kill you?” 

Bela blinked, leaned back against her chair, and then smiled rather maliciously. Both men froze as she stood and grabbed Faranei by the chin. 

“Yknow, I think I liked the other version of you far better. The one in me and Johnny’s new dimensions, the one who watched his love die.” 

She sat down, summoned another teacup and gazed at Faranei and Zaaz who looked at her rather shocked, a bit horrified, maybe even a bit shaken by her news. She knew her little implication did not go over their heads then. 

“Well? What use do you have standing around me right now? Shoo!” 

She waved her hand and they were back at their table yet again, quiet this time, tails curling around each other at the ends. 

She turned back to face Lucas and stared at him the way a doctor would when delivering the news of a death. 

She snapped her fingers and a shadow child appeared, covering the ears of Lionas. 

“You lost him during that war.”

Lucas stared back at her, denial fading from his eyes, the truth settling in. 

“He lost Ian, and lost himself, and now look at him. He’s happier now. He’s going to therapy. He has Ian again. One who won't reject him.” Her eyes narrowed at the other Ian at these words, he shrunk back. 

“I helped him, he doesn't need your help anymore.” 

She stood up then, hiding half of her face behind a tilted hat as she stared rather blankly at the gathered group.

The meadow was gone, they were back in the meeting room. The baby lay in Lucas’ arms. 

She was gone.

Leaving the group to chew on her words, and the baby to wail in her absence. 

…

 

Bela found herself in a rather chaotic bedroom. It was dim, dark, and there was a faint sound of..

Sniffling? 

She turned around, and vaguely recognized a new outfit adorning her body. She ignored it, her target stood before her. 

Rowan. 

He lay in his bed, crying into the pillows surrounding him. Bela placed both hands on her hips and leaned to the side. 

“Why are we crying, ciupercă mică?”

His sobbing paused and stilled, and he shot up from the bed. Tear stained face and rumpled hair, his vines were thorny again. They softened and fell off at the sight of her. 

“Bela! You're alright!” 

Bela smiled at him and waved her fingers in a hello.

“Course I’m alright, ciupercă mică.”

He practically tackled her in a hug halfway through before pulling back and narrowing his eyes in suspicion. 

“Hey..”

“Hm?”

“How am I supposed to know you're stable? You're not gonna try and like murder everyone hee are you?” 

Bela laughed, long and hard and loud at the question. Doubling over, her corset crinkled with the movement. 

She stood back straight and smoothed her outfit down, shaking her head as she did so. 

“No,no,no, I’m not going to kill everyone here that's like so absurd.” 

Rowan frowned and considered her. 

“What's with the new look?” 

“Oh!” 

She gazed down at  her outfit then.

A burgundy wine shirt, with a heart cutout in the center of the chest. A matching underbust corset, black lace framing a lighter red center. A short metallic miniskirt, dark red of course, overtop of black underwear forming a whaletail. Red wine stockings, laced with holes tied together by pearl centered black bows. Darker red leg warmers overtop of black platform shoes. 

And finally, a burgundy red bow with a pearl center lying on the left side of her hair, pulling back a few of her curly bangs from her face. 

She looked back at Rowan and posed, a hand off to the side carrying an invisible bag. 

“What do we think?”

“You look like a Barbie.” He paused and held out his hands stepping back with wide eyes.

“In a nice way!” 

Bela laughed, a hand pressed against the back of her mouth. Her wedding ring shining on it, glittering a bright white in the limited sunlight fluttering through the room. 

“Ah! No worries, I understand what you mean ciupercă mică.” 

“What are you calling me anyway?” 

“Little mushroom in my mother tongue.Do you hate it? I can stop calling you that.” 

“No, no, it's uh-” He looked away, a hand on his nape, “its fine, I guess, I don't mind.”  

Bela clapped her hands together and bounced on the tips of her boots.

“Yay! I’m glad you like it, I always loved calling my friends little nicknames!” 

There was a pause, brief and quick, and then she moved forward and hugged him rather tightly. 

“You dont need to be jealous of other people Rowan, you are more than enough.” 

Rowan paused, hands hovering over her back. She continued to talk as tears beaded in his eyes. 

“Creation recognizes you. You were never a mistake, you just are.” 

She pulled back from the hug, pecking him on the head and leaving a faint lipstick mark on his mushroom. 

“I have to go back to the Palace now.” She held a finger in front of a large blinding grin, “I sent Ian on a goose chase, dont tell anymore though.” 

He blinked then, opening his mouth to talk to her, but she was gone as soon as his eyes opened once more. In her place was a folded note. Folded to look like a small origami letter, pink paper and white swirling letters. 

Talk to me whenever, just ask Jasper to summon me!

XOXO Belladonna Dumitrescu

…

“YOU CAN'T RUN FOR LONG!” 

“SHIT, THEY'RE GAINING ON US, IAN RUN FASTER!”

“I. AM. TRYING. TO.” 

“TRY HARDER!”

“STOP RIGHT THERE, THIS IS YOUR THERAPY TEAM SPEAKING!” 

“SHIT HOW ARE THEY COMING FROM THE CEILING?!”

“HELL IF I KNOW!”

“GODS ABOVE THEYRE RIGHT BEHIND US, FUCKING BOOK IT!”

“JOHNNY!”

“WHAT?!”

“IF WE DON'T MAKE IT OUT OF THIS I JUST WANTED TO SAY, I LOVE YOU!”

“YOU IDIOT, I LOVE YOU TOO, BUT DON'T TREAT THIS LIKE A GOODBYE!”

“THE WAY WERE BEING CHASED IT SURE FEELS LIKE-”

“IAN!”

“Ugh- ow- who the fuck choke-slammed me?!” 

“That would be me sir, now stay down or I will use force yet again.” 

“What the fuck kind of therapists are you?!” 

“The great kind.” 

“Kendall shut the hell up and just get them in the therapy room. It’s time for their session.” 

…

“Name?”

“Vacantae.”

“Any other names?”

“Void. The Absence. The Nothing. Emptiness-”

“That is more than enough, I think I get the gist now.”

“So, Vacanate, you said you made her mad. How?”

“I broke her Laws.”

“What laws?”

“I hurt, killed, and manipulated others below me using my status as Void.” 

“And she didn't like that, did she.”

“No, she sentenced me to stay a human for the next 2000 or so years.”

“I- 2000 is a long time. Are you sure it's just punishment?”

“I know better than most what I have done, I believe it to be just.”

“But it was your first time experiencing human emotion, anyone would lash out, it's understandable.” 

“I-”

“And your hunting dogs. You mentioned they tried to kill her and in turn you destroyed them. Have you told her that?”

“I- No.”

“Hm.” 

“Do you- Would it make it better if I told her?”

“I think so. I think you should be far more truthful to her than you have been.” 

“But-”

“It may seem scary but as far as you've told me, you have only mentioned the bad you have done. None of the good.” 

“Vacantae. I want you to take that leap. Show her something good you have done. Or at least tell her the truth. It will be far better for you both if you do.” 

—

Chapter 47: fourty seven

Chapter by Honeydrrop

“Johnny…” Asa sighed, shaking her head like one would while chastising a child. “I told you before, we’d find you.”

 

“Yeah, okay, whatever, let’s just get it over with.”

 

She stared at him a moment longer. Pity in her eyes.

 

It pissed him off.

 

“Perhaps we should extend the session—”

 

“ Fuck you, I’m not doing that.”

 

Ian snickered at his lover’s vulgarity. Asa didn’t take too kindly to the gesture.

 

“I suppose we’ll begin with you, Ian. Now then, how has your day been?”

“Would’ve been going amazing if not for your fucking army of therapists hunting us down.”

 

“Would not have happened had you been punctual.”

 

“What if I was, like, shitting or something?”

 

“Ian, we both know that is not what you were doing.”

 

“What if I’m shitting tomorrow?”

 

Johnny burst into laughter, his anger fizzling away. He hadn’t seen Ian so hung up like this since

 

Since before

 

Before the

 

“ Johnny. ”

 

“ Ugh , what is it?!”

 

“You dissociated. Where was your mind?”

 

“Up your a—”

 

“ Oh— kay. Enough.”

 

“Enough? Can we leave yet?”

 

“No.”

 

Johnny slumped as she returned her gaze to Ian.

 

“Your old friends. Johnny held the belief that they were family. Did you also hold that belief?”

 

“Uh…Yeah?”

 

A hum. A click. “Do you remember anyone else?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Family. Blood relatives, perhaps?”

 

Ian thought about it. Hard. It’d been so long since he ever considered the possibility of actually having a lineage out there somewhere.

“I…I don’t know.”

 

Another hum. “So, where might that protective nature of yours stem from?”

 

More thinking. Freezing on the subject.

 

“Let’s consider another question. Why might it have been that you were orphaned?”

 

Ian’s heart dropped, visibly enough for Johnny to see him shrink into himself.

 

“I don’t want to—”

 

“And that’s why you’re here. To confront what you don’t want to. Now, let’s consider that thought, yes? There was a time before you were orphaned. You were four years old when you met Johnny, you told me that in your little rant before.”

 

“Well, yeah, ‘cause I was.”

 

Click, click. Not again, damned pen. “You could not have possibly been born into it. There was a time, long enough, for you to survive as a newborn, as a small toddler. Do you remember anything from then?”

 

“Who the fuck is gonna remember twenty-something years ago?!”

 

“Me.”

 

Ian looked at Johnny, who seemed to be lost in thought.

 

“Maybe it’s my species, I don’t know. I remember a lot of things.”

 

“Like what, Johnny?”

 

“I think she was my mom.”

 

“You think? ”

 

Johnny shrugged. He didn’t even blink. Nearly entranced.

 

Had Asa’s questions towards Ian sparked something within him?

 

“She was pretty. And she looked at me a lot. Said the same thing over and over. That’s how I knew my name was Johnny.”

 

“Are there any particular memories of her? Anyone else?”

Johnny’s upper body swayed, rocking back and forth lightly. “She was holding me in that one. But she looked sad in some other ones. I thought they were dreams, maybe.”

 

“Anything significant besides your name?”

 

Another shrug. He met her eyes this time. “Wings? Maybe she was sad? Not sure.”

 

Asa scribbled a few things on her clipboard. “Perhaps we can dive into that a little more.”

 

“No, no thank you.”

 

Another scribble. Johnny leaned back, ashamed of how much he’d said.

 

And for once, she let him have it to himself.

 

He wondered why.

 

“How about this war you have endured?”

 

Oh god.

 

“Do we really have to?”

 

“Yes. One way or another.”

 

Ian thought back to the therapists somehow emanating from every surface they ran by. The tackling, the sheer number of them…

 

“Is that a threat?”

 

“A promise, Ian.” Asa smiled. “Now, the war seems to have played out quite similarly for you both.”

 

“Zerithos didn’t die in mine.”

 

Zerithos.

 

Wait, fuck . He was still out there somewhere.

 

Was he still searching for them both? Finding some way to kill them? To take Johnny?

 

“Zerithos?”

 

“He’s a god. Like, king of Heaven, you know? For me, anyway.”

“Was he an issue for you?”

 

“Oh, don’t get me started. He tore Johnny apart right in front of me! And the bastard’s after us, I just know it. I know it, it’s not some weird paranoia bullshit for you to unpack. He’s just like that.”

 

“After you?”

 

Ian nodded, leaning closer. “He’s like, hung up on killing all of us demons. He’s insane. He was at that ball—”

 

“He was here? ”

 

“Yeah! I didn’t know why the fuck that happened! He wouldn’t stop asking Johnny a bunch of shit and I knew he recognized him but we had to play it off like Johnny was just some other soul eater I came across that happened to look just like the one he killed but I’m not sure he bought it—do you think he bought it? Maybe, right? No—okay, but he was following us around the whole time before shit hit the fan. You knew about that, right? All that fighting and basically a bunch of dickheads crashing the ball?”

 

“Ian…”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but they are dickheads for taking Bela! They fucked us over!”

 

“Ian—”

 

“And they like, fucked with her mind! She could’ve killed someone, and I think it would’ve been Johnny!”

 

“ Ian. ” Asa sighed. “I’m all for confidentiality, but we may need to report this information to the Queen.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You have just told me that you’re in potential danger. That Zerithos is out for you, yes? And he was here, which means he could pose a threat to the kingdom.”

 

“Oh. Oh shit.”

 

“Are they gonna lock us up in here?”

 

“No, Johnny. Well, I’m not certain, but we do need to do something about this.”

 

“Can we, uh, not talk about this?”

 

“We might need to wrap up this session a tad early, I’m sorry.” Asa gathered her papers, stuffing them all into the clipboard as she got up and hurriedly brushed herself off. “This is quite urgent, I think. We should bring this forward immediately.”

 

Immediately?

 

Gosh, Johnny would rather talk about his problems for eight hours here.

 

Wait, no. This wasn’t supposed to be a comfort place.

 

Fuck.

 

—

Chapter 48: fourty eight

Chapter by Honeydrrop

Jasper’s eyes snapped open, his breath shallow and uneven as he shot upright from the bed—
The bed?
His hand ran across the familiar fabric beneath him, tracing the soft, worn fibers of his navy-blue comforter. Confusion settled into his bones like a cold fog. He was home. He blinked several times, his heart racing as he surveyed the dim room. The subtle scent of eucalyptus hung in the air, and the golden afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft ribbons of light across the walls.

He sat frozen for a moment, grounding himself. The distant chime of the old clock drifted through the halls, its familiar melody bleeding into Clair de Lune , which echoed faintly from somewhere beyond the room. It was the song his mother used to play. His muscles trembled as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his bare feet on the cool wooden floor. But even now, the hazy, surreal feeling clung to him—like the edges of a dream that refused to let go.

Flashes of memory began to surface:
Bela. Her voice, soft and steady, guiding him. Talking about the universe, the endless expanse of things too big to comprehend. There was something else too… the book .

His gaze dropped, scanning the floor until it landed on a familiar object lying just within reach. There it was: the ancient leather-bound tome, its cover adorned with celestial symbols, just as Bela had handed it to him.

"Take it, star child," her words echoed in his mind like a whisper carried on the wind.

He hesitated for a moment, his stomach knotting as if he were holding something sacred yet dangerous. If Bela was right, this book would reveal the creation of his universe—the entire cosmic ballet—from the perspective of the Universe’s Watchers themselves. It might even show glimpses of other worlds, other realities. And in those other realities… there would be more versions of him.

The thought made his stomach churn, leaving him feeling dizzy and small. He hated it. The very idea of those other "him"s made him feel… wrong, like he didn’t belong in his own skin. Shaking off the unease, Jasper placed the book carefully on the nightstand as if it might crumble to dust if mishandled.

He rose to his feet, each step making the wooden floor groan beneath him, as if the house shared his discomfort. His throat felt dry, so he poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser. He took slow, deliberate sips, hoping the cool liquid would calm the storm brewing inside his mind.

But the thoughts swirled faster—too many, too loud, too much—
And then—

Knock, knock.

The sound was gentle but enough to pull Jasper back into reality. He turned toward the door, his brows furrowing.

"Who could that be?" he whispered to himself, placing the glass down with a soft clink.

He padded across the room and opened the door, the hinges creaking as he leaned his head down to peek outside.
Standing just beyond the threshold was Rowan.

Jasper’s heart softened instinctively, a fond smile curling his lips—but it faltered almost immediately. Rowan wasn’t looking at him. His head was bowed, his brown hair casting shadows across his delicate face. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched in a way that screamed discomfort. He was staring down at his shoes, his usual brightness dimmed. Something was wrong.

"Hey," Jasper began softly, trying to keep his tone light. "I’m happy you came, but… Can I see my mush’s face?"

Rowan flinched at the nickname, the slightest tremor passing through him. Jasper crouched slightly, bringing himself down to Rowan’s level, and gently placed a hand under his chin. He lifted it carefully, just enough to meet his eyes—

And there it was.
Tears.

Soft, glimmering pearls rolled down Rowan’s cheeks, trailing paths of sorrow down his pale skin. Jasper’s breath hitched. He had seen Rowan cry before, but never like this. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of mischief, were now clouded with exhaustion and turmoil, as if he were carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken regrets.

"Rowan…" Jasper whispered, his voice laced with concern, but before he could say more, Rowan threw himself into Jasper’s arms, clinging to him with all the desperation of someone holding on to the last thing keeping them afloat.

"I-I’m so-o-o sorry, Ja-sper…" Rowan’s voice cracked, his words jagged and uneven between hiccupped breaths. His small frame shook with each sob, and Jasper instinctively wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer.

"Sorry?" Jasper murmured, confusion threading through his voice as he rubbed gentle circles into Rowan’s back. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

Rowan’s grip tightened—so tight that Jasper’s breath stuttered for a moment, but he didn’t let go. He could feel Rowan trembling against him, each shaky inhale pressing into Jasper’s chest.

"I… I’m sorry for being envious of you," Rowan confessed, his voice breaking under the weight of the admission.

Jasper blinked, stunned. "Envious?"

Rowan nodded frantically, burying his face deeper into Jasper’s shoulder. "I envied you… Your looks, your perfect upbringing, the way you’re so nice to everyone . I envied everything about you!" he cried out, his voice raw and heavy with shame.

The words hit Jasper like a tidal wave, leaving him breathless. Envy. Of him ? His mind reeled at the idea. All his life, people had admired him, even loved him—at least, on the surface. Compliments had always felt hollow, like they were given to the mask he wore rather than to the person underneath. And when the curse had changed him—turned him into something he could hardly stand to look at—all that affection disappeared.

And now, here was Rowan. The one person who had seen the worst of him, the broken, jagged pieces—and still envied him?

The absurdity of it made Jasper laugh—a short, breathless sound that quickly crumbled into something far more fragile. Before he knew it, tears welled up in his own eyes, slipping down his cheeks as the weight of it all—every insecurity, every rejection—broke free.

"To think… to think someone could still love me with everything wrong with me," Jasper whispered bitterly, shaking his head as more tears fell. He collapsed slowly onto the floor, pulling Rowan down with him as he laughed through the sobs that wracked his chest.

"What a fool I’ve been," he muttered, voice thick with emotion.

Rowan sat beside him, watching helplessly as Jasper crumbled, his heart aching for the man he loved. Jasper’s laughter soon faded into quiet sobs, each one carrying years of unspoken hurt and buried pain. And Rowan, unsure of what else to do, simply held him—tight, steady, and without judgment.

After what felt like an eternity spent in each other’s arms, Jasper finally stirred, his body heavy with exhaustion. He slowly rose from the floor, holding Rowan close against his chest as if afraid to let him go. His hands slid protectively along Rowan’s back, feeling every shudder that ran through him. Rowan sniffled, his breath hitching as he tried to steady himself. His voice, rough and hoarse from all the sobbing, came out in a whisper.

"Why… why are your eyes like that?" Rowan murmured, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head. He slowly raised a hand to brush back the tousled strands of Jasper’s dark hair, his fingers grazing Jasper’s temple with a feather-light touch.

Jasper blinked, momentarily confused by the question, before realization set in. He felt the change, too—the telltale tingle of magic stirring within him. Normally, his eyes were mismatched: one a deep onyx black, the other a clear, bright blue. But now, both irises shimmered, swirling with vibrant shades of blue and violet, like galaxies spinning endlessly in the night sky.

With a soft sigh, Jasper touched the corner of his eye, brushing away the lingering wetness from his tears. "This happens when I cry too much," he explained with a quiet chuckle. "Our emotions… they spike the magic. Sometimes it gets out of control, and, well… this happens."

Rowan blinked in fascination, leaning closer to inspect Jasper’s eyes. The swirling colors mesmerized him, like tiny pieces of the cosmos were hidden within Jasper’s gaze. A small smile tugged at Rowan’s lips, the first genuine one in what felt like ages.

"You’re absolutely beautiful like that," Rowan whispered, his voice full of awe as he reached up to gently cradle Jasper’s face.

The words hit Jasper straight in the heart, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. His chest tightened painfully, and he let out a shaky breath, willing himself to stay composed.

"Stop it with the compliments, Row," Jasper muttered, rubbing his temples as if the praise itself was too much to handle. "I think we’ve had enough crying for one day."

But Rowan’s soft laughter bubbled up between them, muffled as he tucked his head against Jasper’s chest, his giggles vibrating through Jasper’s body. Jasper couldn’t help but smile at the sound. It was like a balm, soothing the raw edges of his soul.

With a content hum, Jasper shifted his hold on Rowan, sliding one arm beneath his knees and the other around his back. In one smooth motion, he lifted him into a bridal carry, holding him close like something precious.

"Jasper—!" Rowan yelped, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson as he squirmed in Jasper’s arms. "I-I can walk, I swear! I’m fine, really—"

Jasper rolled his eyes, though his smile remained. "Sure you are," he teased, adjusting his grip to keep Rowan secure. "But I think we both need a relaxing bath. And besides…" Jasper’s voice softened as he glanced down at Rowan, his gaze warm and tender. "We’ve got some things to talk about."

Rowan opened his mouth to protest again, but the words died on his tongue. Instead, he let himself relax in Jasper’s arms, resting his forehead against his shoulder. There was no use fighting it. Jasper always knew when he needed to rest, even when Rowan didn’t.

Ignoring Rowan’s half-hearted protests, Jasper carried him up the stairs with ease, each step slow and deliberate. The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood beneath his feet. Warm, golden light from the afternoon sun bathed the staircase, casting soft shadows along the walls.

-

 

The bathroom was thick with steam, swirling around the air like soft clouds, fogging up the mirror and making the room feel cocooned in warmth. Jasper knelt by the tub, adjusting the water temperature until it was just right. With a small flick of his wrist, he stirred in a few drops of scented oils—lavender, eucalyptus, and a touch of chamomile—watching them swirl through the bathwater like tendrils of silk. He added a sprinkling of rosemary and sage leaves, their fragrant scent blooming as the heat coaxed out their oils. Jasper smiled softly, weaving a tiny enchantment through the water to soothe their minds and bodies.

In the other room, Rowan rummaged through Jasper’s drawers, searching for something to change into once the bath was over. He pulled out an oversized hoodie, holding it up with a grin that curled at the corners of his mouth. The fabric dwarfed him entirely, and he couldn’t help but snicker. Jasper heard the laugh echo through the open doorway, and his brow arched.

“What did you find, Rowan?!” Jasper called from the edge of the bath, his voice light with curiosity.

There was a pause, followed by a teasing reply. "Nothing! I’m coming, nerd!"

Jasper groaned softly, rubbing a hand over his face. Whenever Rowan said it was "nothing," it was never actually nothing. But he decided to let it slide for now. Instead, Jasper rose to his feet, peeling off his clothes piece by piece. He stretched his arms, relishing the warmth as his skin hit the humid air. Then, with a content sigh, he sank into the bath. The milky white water rippled around him, the herbal leaves drifting lazily on the surface. His long black hair spread like ink across the water, a dark contrast against the cloudy bath.

Moments later, the bathroom door creaked open, and Jasper glanced up to see Rowan slipping inside. He moved quickly, closing the door behind him with a soft click, a pile of fresh clothes tucked under his arm. Rowan stood still for a moment, looking at Jasper in the tub, his cheeks slowly turning rosy. Jasper chuckled under his breath, the sound soft and inviting.

“Come on, the water’s nice~” Jasper sang, patting the edge of the tub with a lazy grin.

Rowan shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "Can you, uh… look away?" he asked, his voice quiet but insistent.

Jasper narrowed his eyes playfully, tilting his head. "I’ve seen you naked a bunch of times, Rowan. What’s the problem?"

“It’s… different!” Rowan huffed, the words tumbling out as he hugged his clothes tighter to his chest. "Just—can you please look away?" He shot Jasper the most pitiful puppy-dog eyes he could muster, his lower lip jutting out just slightly.

Jasper sighed, biting back a smile. "Fine, fine. You win." He turned his head to the side, letting his gaze drift lazily to the wall. "I’m not looking. Happy now?"

The sound of shuffling clothes filled the room as Rowan quickly undressed, the fabric rustling as it hit the tile floor. Something clattered and Rowan muttered,

 "Don’t worry about it." 

Jasper stifled a laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. He could almost picture the frantic look on Rowan’s face as he tried to avoid any more awkward moments.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the water shifted, splashing gently as Rowan slid into the bath. Jasper felt the slight disturbance ripple around him, the smaller figure settling down beside him. Rowan let out a soft sigh as the warmth embraced him, and Jasper glanced back over his shoulder, unable to resist.

Rowan’s wet hair clung to his flushed cheeks, and he sank lower into the water, trying to hide his face behind the rising steam. 

"You peeked," Rowan mumbled accusingly, though there was no bite in his voice.

Jasper smirked, resting his arms along the edge of the tub. "Couldn’t help it," he teased, his voice low and affectionate. "You’re too cute when you’re embarrassed."

Rowan groaned, kicking Jasper lightly under the water, but his lips curled into a small smile. Jasper caught the faintest trace of a giggle slipping out, and he felt his chest grow warm—not from the bath, but from the simple joy of having Rowan there with him.

Jasper gently tugged Rowan closer, guiding him to rest against his chest. The warmth of the water wrapped around them, a cocoon of calm amidst the storm of their emotions. Rowan’s ears flicked at the sudden contact, and Jasper chuckled quietly when he felt Rowan’s tail instinctively curl around his leg beneath the water, coiling tighter as if to anchor himself.

Jasper exhaled slowly, threading his fingers through Rowan’s damp hair. He worked carefully, untangling the strands as he combed through them with a soothing rhythm. With each pass of his hand, he could feel the tension melting from Rowan’s frame, his partner’s shoulders sinking deeper into Jasper’s chest. Rowan’s soft breaths began to even out, the steady rise and fall of his body signaling that he was finally relaxing.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Jasper murmured, his voice low and thoughtful, as if each word carried a fragile weight.

Rowan stayed quiet, sensing that Jasper needed to say this, to let it all out. He shifted just slightly, nestling his head beneath Jasper’s chin, listening.

“My upbringing wasn’t the best," Jasper admitted, his voice laced with a bitter chuckle. "I had self-esteem issues… still do, actually." He gave a dry laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "A certain someone disappeared from my life—just vanished when I needed them the most. My father? Well... he doesn’t really talk to me anymore. Or maybe it’s that he never really did."

Jasper slumped, his body sagging against Rowan’s as though the weight of his memories had finally become too much to bear. “And, of course," he sighed, "you saw my sister at the ball, trying to hunt Bela down.”

At the mention of Jasper’s sister, Rowan’s nose scrunched in distaste. A scoff escaped his lips, and Jasper could feel the annoyance radiating from him. "She looked so much like you," Rowan muttered, almost in disbelief. His tail gave a flick beneath the water, squeezing Jasper’s leg in silent irritation.

Jasper chuckled softly at Rowan’s reaction, though his expression was tinged with sadness. 

“Yeah... People used to say we were two halves of the same coin.” His voice faltered for a moment, then grew quieter. “Except she always got the better half. The perfect half. And somehow, I... I became the mistake.”

Jasper's hand stilled in Rowan’s hair, his thumb absentmindedly brushing along the edge of his partner’s ear. Rowan leaned back more firmly against Jasper’s chest, as if trying to absorb the pain Jasper was pouring out.

“You’re not a mistake,” Rowan whispered, his voice gentle but certain. He squeezed Jasper’s arm, which was wrapped loosely around his middle. “Not to me.”

The sincerity in Rowan’s words hit Jasper harder than he expected. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat, his vision blurring with unshed tears. For so long, he had carried the weight of being the lesser sibling, the one nobody cared to understand. But here, in this quiet moment, with Rowan wrapped in his arms, it didn’t feel so crushing anymore.

 

“My upbringing wasn’t the best either…” Rowan whispered, his voice barely audible as he squeezed Jasper’s arm a little tighter. His trembling breath brushed against Jasper’s skin, and Jasper, still wiping stray tears from his eyes, gazed down at him with quiet concern.

“Sure… my mom and dad are the best,” Rowan continued, but his voice wavered as the cracks in his heart started to show. He went rigid for a moment, struggling to keep himself together. His hands trembled slightly against Jasper’s skin, and his breath hitched.

Jasper leaned closer, his heart breaking as he watched Rowan wrestle with emotions that had been bottled up for far too long.

“But… why?” Rowan whispered. His whole body seemed to shake now, as if the question itself carried years of silent suffering. He looked up at Jasper suddenly, his eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears.

“Tell me,” Rowan cried, his voice cracking with frustration and hurt, “ Why did I have to be so different?! ”

The tears slipped from the corners of Rowan’s eyes, trailing down his flushed cheeks like tiny rivers of sorrow. His chest heaved as sobs began to bubble to the surface. Jasper’s heart shattered at the rawness in Rowan’s voice, the way it carried so much pain, as if he’d been holding this in his entire life. Without a word, Jasper wrapped his arms around Rowan, pulling him close and pressing his head against his chest.

Rowan’s body shook with the force of his sobs, his tears soaking into Jasper’s skin as he cried freely in the safety of his partner’s embrace. “johnny… bela… everyone,” Rowan choked out, his voice muffled against Jasper’s chest. “Everyone looks at me so differently. Why do I have to be this way? Why can’t I just… fit ?”

Jasper felt his own throat tighten, hot tears burning behind his eyelids as he listened. He could feel every ounce of Rowan’s pain as if it were his own because, in a way, it was .

Rowan’s tail, tense and twitching beneath the water, suddenly wrapped around Jasper’s like a lifeline—seeking comfort, seeking reassurance. Without thinking, Jasper’s tail coiled right back, twisting tightly around Rowan’s, a silent promise: I’ve got you. You’re not alone.

And in that moment, something inside Jasper melted. They were the same. Creatures carved from the same lonely mold—too different, too complicated, always on the outside, trying to find where they belonged.

Jasper’s tears came freely now, spilling down his face in silent streams as Rowan continued to sob into his chest. He could feel his partner’s sorrow digging into old wounds of his own—the pain of not fitting in, the ache of being misunderstood. But wrapped up in each other’s arms like this, it didn’t feel as unbearable. For once, they weren’t carrying it alone.

“Hey… it’s okay,” Jasper whispered through the lump in his throat, running his hands gently down Rowan’s back in soothing circles. His voice was thick with emotion, but he fought to keep it steady for Rowan’s sake. “You’re not alone anymore, Rowan. We’ve got each other now.”

Rowan hiccupped, pressing himself even closer, as if afraid Jasper would slip away.

“And you know what?” Jasper continued, his voice softer, though the weight of his emotions still clung to every word. “We may not fit in anywhere else... but we fit right here. With each other.”

Rowan lifted his head slightly, his tear-streaked face resting against Jasper’s shoulder. His breath hitched again, but this time it sounded almost like a laugh—a fragile, hopeful sound beneath the tears. Jasper smiled through his own tears, brushing Rowan’s wet hair back from his face and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jasper whispered. “Together.”

Rowan gave a small nod, his tail tightening ever so slightly around Jasper’s in silent agreement. For the first time in a long while, despite all the sorrow, he felt a tiny spark of hope bloom in his chest.

After what felt like hours of crying, laughing, and crying some more, the two finally dragged themselves out of the bath. Their eyes were red and puffy, but the heaviness in their hearts had lifted, replaced by a warmth that felt almost surreal. Jasper grabbed a towel and playfully ruffled Rowan’s wet hair, drawing a soft laugh from him. Rowan tried to swat Jasper’s hands away, but he only laughed harder, leaning into the playful gesture.

Eventually, they ended up back in Jasper’s room, their bodies feeling lighter, as if they’d left their burdens behind in the bathwater. Jasper slumped onto the bed, eyeing Rowan’s new outfit with exaggerated annoyance.

“Okay, seriously,” Jasper groaned, narrowing his eyes. “Out of everything you found in my closet... that’s what you chose?”

Rowan looked down at himself with a mischievous grin, smoothing his hands over the black hoodie he now wore. Bold white letters sprawled across the front read: This Isn’t Even My Final Form. He gave Jasper a twirl, the fabric swinging dramatically as he shot Jasper a teasing look.

“What?” Rowan said, feigning innocence. “This makes me look hot, doesn’t it? Admit it—I know it does.”

Jasper rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Without warning, he grabbed Rowan by the waist and lifted him effortlessly into the air. Rowan let out a surprised yelp, followed by uncontrollable giggles as Jasper spun him around.

“Whatever, you little menace,” Jasper teased, pretending to glare at him. “You’re officially banned from my closet.”

Rowan gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock horror. “You can’t do that! I live here now!” He pretended to faint in Jasper’s arms, his head lolling back dramatically.

“Not if you keep dressing like that.” Jasper smirked, tossing Rowan onto the bed with a soft plop .

Rowan grinned up at him, the mischief in his eyes sparkling. “Well, jokes on you, nerd. I’m just going to steal your clothes anyway—and I’ll ruin them! I’ll put holes in every hoodie and give them right back!” He laughed so hard he could barely finish the sentence, kicking his legs like an excited child.

“Oh yeah?” Jasper crossed his arms, fighting the urge to laugh himself. “Well, I’ll call the police.”

Rowan’s eyes widened theatrically as he sat up on the bed, leaning in with a wicked grin. “I’ll eat the police.”

For a moment, the room fell silent as they locked eyes, their expressions holding straight for as long as they could. Then, like a dam breaking, they both erupted into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over until their stomachs hurt.

Jasper fell back on the bed beside Rowan, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath between bursts of giggles. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight pressing on him had lifted entirely, leaving him feeling light and free, like a kid again.

Rowan wiped the tears from his eyes, still snickering, and curled up next to Jasper on the bed. “This... this feels nice,” Rowan whispered, a content smile spreading across his face.

Jasper hummed in agreement, turning his head to look at him. “Yeah. It does.”

…

“We probably need to go back to therapy”

 

“Yep”

 

-

The finale of therapy; looking back to the past

 

“So! Did you do your homework yet?” 

Rowan and Jasper exchanged awkward glances, both of them shifting uneasily under Stacy’s gaze. The memory of their last "homework assignment" still lingered vividly—and not exactly in a productive way. Rowan’s lips curled into a mischievous grin before a soft giggle escaped, and Jasper’s cheeks immediately burned with a blue hue. He quickly turned his head, as if the wall beside him was suddenly fascinating.

"Y-Yeah... it went great, " Jasper mumbled under his breath, struggling to maintain his composure. Rowan’s teasing nod, paired with a knowing glint in his eyes, only made it worse, threatening to draw Jasper deeper into embarrassment.

Stacy blinked at them, tilted her head forward and stared.

“You did do the homework? Right? Or did you get distracted with,” She leaned back then with a rather teasing and smug face, “other things.” 

Rowan burst out laughing, his whole body shaking as if Stacy had just told the funniest joke in the world. Jasper groaned, grabbing a pillow and burying his face in it, as if hoping to disappear from sheer embarrassment. Rowan doubled over, tears streaming down his face, nearly slipping off the couch.

Jasper peeked over the pillow, shooting Rowan a desperate glare. “I was trying to make you feel loved after giving you that list!” he groaned, his voice muffled through the fabric.

Rowan wiped at his eyes, breathless from laughing. “Oh, trust me, you did! ” he wheezed between giggles. “And... in ways that weren’t exactly on the list.” He dissolved into another fit of laughter, clutching his stomach as Jasper slumped deeper into the couch, a mixture of defeat and fondness written all over his flushed face.

Stacy smirked, adjusting herself in her seat with a knowing look.

“Well,” she said with a little snicker of her own, “at least I know your... private affairs are perfectly normal.”

“Anyway, back onto schedule,” Stacy flipped through a small notebook, scanning her notes from thier previous session together. Putting it off to the side she looked at Jasper, her gaze narrowed and pinched. Concerned. 

“You mentioned having issues with your past last time yes? Would you be willing to share and expand on that?” 

Jasper flinched slightly, clutching the pillow tightly to his lap as he averted her gaze, feeling the weight of her question settle heavily in the air. Rowan, ever attuned to his partner’s unease, immediately sat up and placed a reassuring hand on Jasper’s. Jasper looked at him, warmth flooding his heart, but a deep sigh escaped his lips.

“I would tell you everything, but… saying it out loud is just too painful for me,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, disappointment evident in his eyes. Rowan, sensing the turmoil within him, gently rubbed his back.

“Well if saying it is too hard,” She stood up then, crossing the small space between them and resting her hands at the side of Rowan and Jasper’s temples, “then maybe you could show it instead.” 

The world went dark, and their bodies slumped forward, their minds running miles per minute as around them a memory long past erupted from the darkness and enveloped them. 

The past, right before them.

Jasper’s past.

Rowan and Jasper slowly opened their eyes, the vibrant buzz of colors gradually adjusting to their senses. They both groaned as they rose to their feet, their surroundings coming into focus. Jasper’s breath hitched in his throat as recognition washed over him. Behind them, Stacy stood holding her notebook, her presence steadying.

“Where is this, Jasper?” she asked, her voice soft yet probing.

Jasper hesitated, his heart racing. “My… home,” he finally managed to say, his voice trembling slightly.

Rowan admired the scene around him—a magnificent mansion adorned with whites and blues that seemed to glow with an otherworldly aura. Lush plants, winding vines, and vibrant flowers created a magical atmosphere that captivated him. As he looked around, he noticed Jasper trying to remain calm, but the tension in his shoulders was palpable. Sensing this, Stacy placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Listen,” she said softly, “if there’s ever a moment you can’t handle, we can stop at any time and leave.”

Jasper sighed, the weight of her words grounding him, and he nodded. Together, they began to explore, the air crackling with a sense of magic that made Rowan feel exhilarated. They walked toward the backyard, anticipation building, when suddenly they stumbled upon a sight that took Jasper’s breath away.

There, in the sun-drenched garden, was Young Jasper—age ten.

Jasper’s heart raced as he took in the sight of his younger self, shock painting his features. 

“After the accident happened, I blocked out what I looked like before it, and to see me like this…” He clutched at his sweater, a wave of emotion washing over him.

Rowan instinctively wrapped his tail around Jasper’s waist, grounding him. “It’s okay; we can see this together,” he reassured, his voice steady and warm. Jasper glanced at him, a grateful smile breaking through the turmoil in his heart, knowing he didn’t have to face this painful memory alone.

“You looked so…” Stacy whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

“Happy,” Jasper responded, his gaze lingering on his younger self with a bittersweet fondness. Little Jasper leapt through the air, pointing his wand excitedly.

“Magicus illumi!” he called out, and a bright light burst forth from the tip of his wand, illuminating the space around him. The sound of his own little giggles filled the air, a joyful melody that tugged at Jasper’s heart.

Next to him, Rowan couldn’t help but blush, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as he shook slightly, clearly enchanted by the sight. “You were so fucking cute…” he giggled, his tail waving playfully behind him, which made Jasper smirk, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest. Stacy smiled too, sharing in the moment.

Just then, a girl emerged from the bushes, hands on her hips and a teasing smile on her face. “Dummy! You know you only use that spell in the dark, right?”

Jasper shifted uncomfortably, a silent groan escaping him. “My sister…” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation.

“She was always mean during my childhood. Some things never change, huh?” His words trailed off as he observed the familiar dynamic, the sting of old memories surfacing as Stacy jotted down more notes. 

“Well, I just wanted to test it out, stupid! Why were you hiding in the bushes?” Little Jasper shot back, pointing his wand at her, his cheeks flushed with indignation.

The sister furrowed her brows, her expression a mix of defiance and mischief. “I was practicing my advanced magic, unlike someone doing baby spells!” she retorted, sticking her tongue out before darting back to her hiding spot, laughter trailing behind her.

Little Jasper sniffled, the moment of confrontation leaving him a bit disheartened, when suddenly a tall figure emerged from the screen door. Jasper’s eyes widened in shock, his breath hitching as recognition flooded his senses.

Rowan and Stacy exchanged looks of astonishment, their expressions mirroring Jasper’s disbelief as the figure stepped into the light. The atmosphere shifted, heavy with an unexpected tension, as memories both cherished and painful surged to the forefront of Jasper’s mind.

“Wait… who is that?” Rowan whispered, unease creeping into his voice. 

Something felt off. He could make out certain features of the figure—her long dress flowing gracefully and a cape that billowed gently—but her face was obscured…distorted like a blur that rendered her unrecognizable.

Rowan’s heart raced as he glanced up at Jasper, who was on the verge of hyperventilating. His chest rose and fell unnaturally, each breath seeming more difficult than the last. Without thinking, Rowan wrapped his arms around Jasper’s tall frame, pulling him close in an attempt to ground him. 

He whispered sweet nothings, hoping to soothe him until he felt Jasper’s breathing begin to slow, the tension easing just a bit. Stacy approached, rubbing Jasper’s back gently, her touch calming.

“Are you okay? Who is that?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

Jasper paused, a shudder running through him as he flinched at the sight.

“My mother…” a voice echoed, deep and haunting.

Stacy looked around, startled, trying to locate the source of the voice.

“It’s Jasper; he does that when he doesn’t want to speak,” Rowan replied, glancing at his partner, who was still visibly shaken.

Stacy’s eyes sparkled with intrigue as she jotted down more notes, capturing the intensity of the moment. 

“Mother…luna made fun of me again” little jasper sniffled, wiping his tears on his sleeve.

 

“███ ████ █████████ ██ █████”

 

-

 

Stacy looked around, examining the area. It was strange. She had never experienced a memory such as this. One where something remained hidden as this one did. 

His mother, a painful subject for sure. Something he hid, avoided, ran from. And yet…

She was still present in his memory, still here. Just hidden , gone, written out of the narrative. The ink smudged and spilled. She thumbed her notebook, the pen tapping against paper as she stood there. Watching the reactions around her.

Does she end it? 

Pull them out of the memory?

Jasper had gone nonverbal, well, technically. He had stopped putting in the effort to speak. There that was more like it. He had stopped putting in the effort for a lot of things. Like blinking. And breathing. And even, hiding his tears. 

They dripped down his face like rainfall, silent and slow. Beading in droplets like dew on a leaf. Stacy would have offered a tissue had they been back in her trailer, but this was all in his head. Quite literally too. Rowan at least wiped his tears away with a gentle sway of his tail. 

It seemed to shock Jasper out of his state, he looked down at Rowan. His face pinched and saddened. Rowan tried his best to smile back up to him, reassuring in a way. 

Stacy watched the interaction, their love palpable. Almost physical in a way. 

Despite having her own partner, it made Stacy long. Long for her love, her girlfriends touch and tender smiles. She pushed past it, now was the time to focus on them. Not herself. And so she steeled her nerves and picked her book back up, opening it to jot down the various surroundings. Something she could do, something she could use. Something to help. 

-

 

“███ ████ █████████ ██ █████,” the figure’s voice echoed, garbled and glitching as it spoke.

“Ehehe, Mom, you always know what to say,” little Jasper replied, his face lighting up as he hugged the figure tightly. She embraced him back, but the laughter that followed was distorted, almost haunting. Rowan’s stomach churned at the sound; every time his mother spoke, it made him feel sick to his core.

He glanced up at Jasper, who remained unnaturally still, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Rowan’s heart raced as he realized he needed to act quickly before Jasper broke under the weight of the memory. In a burst of instinct, he did the only thing he could think of—make loud noises.

With a sudden clap that echoed through the memory, Rowan startled both Jasper and Stacy, who turned to him in shock.

 “I’m sorry, but we have to continue! This isn’t the time to get stuck!” he exclaimed, his voice firm despite the tears pooling in his own eyes. He held Jasper’s hand gently, trying to bring him back to the present.

Jasper sniffled, nodding as he wiped his tears away. In the background, Stacy frantically took notes, her page filled with hurried writing and heart drawings, the juxtaposition of her enthusiasm against the heavy emotion in the air striking. 

 

All three of them watched as a man stepped out from the mansion, a pipe dangling casually from his mouth. His features were strikingly similar to Jasper’s, causing Rowan to glance between the two of them in shock.

Jasper sighed heavily, a mix of regret and disdain washing over his face as he regarded his father. 

“Uhhh, why is your dad kinda…” Rowan began, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“Really? Really, Row?” Jasper muttered, his voice laced with exasperation as he squinted at his partner.

Rowan shrugged his shoulders dramatically, trying to reason with Jasper’s irritation. “I’m just saying! I know where you got your looks from,” he teased, a playful smirk breaking through the tension.

Jasper couldn’t help but snicker at that comment, the lightness breaking through the heaviness of the moment. 

“Ah, let the boy have some fun, huh?” Jasper’s father said with a grin, his eyes twinkling with nostalgia. “I remember getting my first wand… good memories.” As Jasper listened to his father’s voice, he watched little him dash off toward the forest, an unsettling familiarity creeping into his mind. Why did this all feel so recognizable?

Meanwhile, Rowan was surveying the garden, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he spotted an enticing spread of sandwiches and cakes on the table. But then something caught his attention.

 “Uhhh, guys? What is she doing?” he shouted, drawing Jasper and Stacy’s attention to a bush nearby.

Emerging from the foliage was Luna, clutching a tome that looked dusty and yellowed. She was whispering incantations to herself, completely absorbed in her task.

Jasper couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s not even pronouncing it right! Ha... magic was not her strong suit—” But his amusement faded abruptly as he recognized the book. It was a forbidden tome hidden away in their family library, one that belonged to his father. His body shuddered with dread as he watched her flip to a specific page.

“Warning: use of this spell will cause…” Luna read aloud, her voice brimming with reckless confidence. “Pshhh, no way! I’m powerful enough to control it if it gets out of hand!”

“No…” Jasper muttered, his heart racing.

Luna took a deep breath

“Nononononononono! Not that one!” he shouted, desperation clawing at him as Luna continued.

“ Corrupa Petrifarmus! ” she exclaimed.

Silence enveloped the scene for a heartbeat, and then a wave of dark energy erupted from the book, surging toward the forest.

The world around them fell silent, tension thick in the air as Jasper’s heart sank. He recognized this memory, a painful flashback etched into his mind—the moment he lost his eye, cursed by the very spell that now threatened to unravel everything.

-

‘I can’t believe my eyes,’ Stacy thought. A sickening wave of unease washed over her as she scanned the memory. The environment around them began to fracture—splintering cracks spread like spiderwebs through the scene, distorting the edges of reality.

Her stomach dropped.
Oh no.
Jasper’s mind was unraveling.

Stacy’s gaze shot back to him—and what she saw made her heart race. Jasper was… melting. His hair dissolved into inky droplets, floating and dripping into nothingness. His skin darkened, shifting into charcoal as if his very body was coming undone. He trembled violently, and Stacy could see the whites of his eyes stark against his darkening form, wide and terrified, as if caught in a trance.

"Jasper?" Rowan’s voice wavered as he reached out instinctively to grab his arm, only to recoil in alarm. A thin wisp of smoke curled from Jasper’s skin where Rowan had tried to touch him, as if his form was burning away under the strain of the memory.

“Jasper, wait!” Rowan shouted, panic thick in his voice.

But Jasper didn’t respond. His gaze was locked on the forest ahead, his breaths shallow and erratic. Then, as if something inside him snapped, he stumbled forward—and suddenly broke into a desperate run. His body flickered and dissolved with every step, trailing tendrils of black smoke as he bolted toward the woods.

"Jasper!" Rowan cried, sprinting after him.

“Stay close!” Stacy ordered, clutching her notebook and following close behind. She could feel the entire memory collapsing around them, cracks widening, the edges of their reality fraying into jagged shards. If they didn’t stop him soon, he might shatter completely—and they could all be trapped in the chaos of his mind forever.

-

 

“Why… why… whywhywhywhy,” Jasper whispered, the word becoming a mantra of anguish as fire surged through his veins. Every nerve, every bone felt like molten metal, the curse burning from the inside out as he sprinted through the forest. He knew what was coming—the curse that started his awful upbringing. He knew exactly who caused it. But the rage that consumed him wasn’t just for her.

It was for himself.

His vision blurred with fury, shame, and guilt, each thought pushing him closer to the edge of breaking. If I hadn’t run off… if I hadn’t listened to that spirit… if I had just stayed— The guilt swirled, growing heavier with every frantic step, suffocating him.

Then he saw it.

Little Jasper was sprawled out on the ground, clutching his eye in agony, sobbing as tendrils of cursed energy crackled around him. The boy’s whimpers echoed painfully in Jasper’s mind, the same sound he had buried deep, hoping never to hear again.

“No…” Jasper’s knees buckled, crashing to the earth beside the boy. His hands trembled as they hovered over his younger self, as if touching him might make it all real again. Inky tears streamed from his eyes, staining his cheeks as his whole body shook, hunched and broken by the weight of memory.

“I’m… so sorry,” Jasper choked, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. It felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, leaving only guilt behind. This was all his fault. He wanted so desperately to pin it on Luna, to blame her recklessness. But the truth gnawed at him, a truth too sharp to ignore—if he hadn’t run, if he hadn’t listened to that spirit...

He could’ve-

 

But you didn’t,” a soft, measured voice echoed through the still air. Jasper turned sharply, and his breath hitched as Stacy stepped out from the shadows. Her expression was calm yet purposeful, a quiet confidence radiating from her as she strode toward him, the grass ruffling from each step.

“This could’ve ended so differently,” she murmured, her voice threaded with understanding and just a hint of sorrow. “I know you wanted another ending. One without all this pain.”

She reached out, her hand resting gently on his shoulder, and with a flicker of intent, the wisps of dark smoke that clung to her fingertips dissolved, vanishing into the air like forgotten regrets. The warmth of her touch grounded him, though it couldn’t soften the weight in his chest.

“But these…” she said with a tired sigh, “these were the cards you were dealt. We can’t rewrite the past, no matter how hard we wish otherwise.”

Jasper's gaze dropped, his shoulders sagging under the burden of emotions he’d carried for far too long. He bit his lip, frustration mingling with grief, but before the sadness could fully take root, Stacy tilted his chin upward with a gentle but firm hand. Her neon green eyes glowed softly, cutting through the shadows in his heart.

“But… you can change how you carry it,” she whispered, her voice dropping to something sacred and secret, as if offering him an ancient truth. “You can change how you choose to accept it. Accept your anguish, Jasper Nova.”

At her words, little Jasper stood up to look at him. The boy stood hesitantly before them, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, guilt shadowing his small features.

“I’m sorry…” the younger Jasper whispered, his voice fragile, filled with shame. “I never meant to hurt you. I—I didn’t mean to bring you so much pain.” He glanced down at his feet, twisting his hands nervously, as if fearing rejection.

Tears welled up in Jasper’s eyes before he could stop them. A ragged breath escaped him, and without hesitation, he stood up and wrapped his younger self in a tight, desperate embrace. The boy froze for a second, startled by the gesture, before slowly sinking into the warmth of the hug, clutching Jasper with all the strength his small arms could muster.

"How could I ever be mad at you?" Jasper whispered hoarsely, tears spilling down his cheeks as he buried his face into the boy’s shoulder. “You didn’t deserve to carry this... None of it.” The ache inside him loosened, unraveling like a knot that had been held too tight for too long.

Little Jasper held on tighter, his trembling form soothed by the acceptance he had craved for years—both from himself and the man he would become. The warmth between them deepened, not just a reunion, but a reconciliation with the past.

“I accept you,” Jasper whispered, his voice steady now, the words laced with quiet certainty.

The boy gave a small, radiant smile—a smile untouched by guilt or sadness. Slowly, he began to fade, shimmering into light until he was gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of nostalgia.

As he disappeared, the mist around them lifted, and the garden melted away into a white, infinite space—clean, serene, and peaceful.

Jasper, Stacy, and the lingering presence of who he had been all stood in that emptiness, breathing in the silence that followed, feeling lighter than before.

Jasper stood there, still processing the moment, his breath uneven but lighter. He had held his younger self, had let go of the self-loathing and regret that had haunted him for so long.

Rowan stood beside him, his tail gently brushing against Jasper’s, as if to say, I’m here. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t need to. Jasper’s acceptance spoke louder than any comfort Rowan could offer.

Stacy folded her arms, observing them both with a satisfied smile. The green glow from her eyes slowly faded as she relaxed. “Well… That’s some heavy progress right there. You did good, Jasper.”

Jasper sniffled, wiping at his tear-streaked face with his sleeve. “It feels... weird,” he admitted, voice small, as if he wasn’t quite ready to trust the relief creeping in.

“Weird is okay,” Stacy replied, her tone gentle but firm. “Weird means you’re moving forward.”

Jasper glanced at Rowan, who gave him a warm, lopsided grin, his golden eyes filled with pride. “You were incredible,” Rowan said softly, wrapping his arms around Jasper’s waist and leaning his forehead against his stomach . “I hope you know that.”

Jasper smiled—really smiled—for the first time in what felt like ages. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he whispered, his arms tightening around Rowan.

“You deserve everything,” Rowan whispered back, squeezing him a little tighter.

Stacy cleared her throat playfully, giving the two of them a teasing look. “Alright, lovebirds. Let’s not forget we’re still in therapy.”

Jasper laughed—a real, genuine laugh this time—his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. The white space around them began to ripple, like water disturbed by a breeze, the memory’s grip releasing them.

-

All around them was a dark void, water pooling at their feet. Thin and sheetlike. 

 

“So!”

 

Stacy turned to face Rowan, a determined glint in her eyes. 

 

“With you, I think there’s one very important thing we need to address.” 

 

“Which is..?”

 

“Jasper dying.” 

 

“Nope, nope, nope, no, no, no, no.” 

 

“Rowan.”

 

“LALALALALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” 

 

“Rowan!”

 

“Yeah Jas?”

 

“The memory is forming.”

 

“OH GODDAMMIT FUCK!” 

 

…

 

They were in a forest, trees surrounding them on all sides. It was sundown, the warmth of the sun casting rays of gold and coral.

 

There was nothing in the clearing, save for a sleeping beast. Eldritch and haunting. There were voices in the background, approaching.

 

Rowan and Jasper.

 

The ones from that day.

 

…

 

“So I was like, if I don’t get my cider in the next five seconds, I’m setting the next fire right here~,” past Rowan grumbled, his voice dripping with mock indignation.

Next to him, past Jasper let out a low, amused laugh, shaking his head. But the moment he opened his eyes, the humor drained from his face.

There it was.

The beast loomed just ahead, its monstrous, coiled body nestled in the clearing like an ancient nightmare waiting to stir. Jasper’s breath hitched, and his heart pounded against his ribcage. He froze mid-step, instinctively raising a hand to stop Rowan from walking any farther.

“ Rowan! ” Jasper hissed, his voice a sharp whisper, tinged with urgency.

Rowan stopped, confusion flickering across his features. He glanced over his shoulder, clearly not understanding Jasper’s sudden change in tone.

“What?” Rowan whispered back, furrowing his brow.

Jasper frantically waved both hands toward himself, motioning for Rowan to back away. His entire body trembled, barely keeping still as fear spread through his limbs like wildfire.

“I want you to…” Jasper swallowed hard, forcing the words out through a dry throat. “Walk very slowly…toward me. Now. ”

The way Jasper’s voice wavered made Rowan’s stomach twist with unease. His usual grin faltered, nervous laughter bubbling up in his throat.

“Dude, you’re freaking me out. What’s—” Rowan started, but the words caught in his throat as his gaze drifted forward.

There it was.

The beast’s grotesque, spined form loomed just a few steps away, black and jagged like a mass of living thorns. It pulsed with an unnatural energy, its presence suffocating and dense, as if it was something that shouldn’t exist.

Rowan’s breath hitched painfully, a shudder running down his spine as cold fear gripped his chest. Before he could think or move, the beast’s eyelids began to twitch.

One massive, red eye slid open. Then another. And another—until all of them snapped open in unison, locking onto Rowan with terrifying clarity.

“Aw, shit,” Rowan whispered, his voice barely audible, his tail flicking anxiously behind him.

Before the beast could react, Rowan launched himself backward, his feet barely touching the ground as panic took hold.

The moment Rowan moved, the beast stirred, unfolding itself in an unnatural ripple. Its body unraveled like a nightmare given shape, jagged limbs unfurling and twisting. It rose to its full height, impossibly tall and spiny, with shadowy tendrils writhing along its spine. Its roar split the air—a deafening, guttural sound that made the earth beneath them tremble.

“RUN!” Jasper shouted, his voice breaking through the thunderous roar.

Without hesitation, Rowan spun on his heel and bolted toward Jasper, the two of them tearing through the forest as the beast reared back, preparing to give chase.

The forest exploded into chaos. Branches cracked and snapped underfoot, and the beast’s roar echoed through the trees, a promise of destruction that chased them relentlessly.

…

Jasper’s mind raced, panic rising with every step as the forest blurred around them. The beast’s overwhelming magical energy radiated in pulses, heavier and more oppressive than anything Jasper had ever felt. It clung to his skin like static, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. And the worst part—they were heading straight toward the village.

If the beast reached it…

“No,” Jasper muttered to himself, heart hammering. He skidded to a halt and grabbed Rowan by the arm, yanking him in the opposite direction without hesitation.

“What are we doing?!” Rowan gasped, stumbling to keep pace, his lungs burning as he sprinted beside Jasper.

“We have to stop it!” Jasper yelled over the chaos, his grip tight on Rowan’s arm. “It’ll destroy the town if we don’t!”

Rowan’s heart sank, fear and adrenaline coiling in his chest like a vice. “What if—” he began, his voice cracking, “what if we don’t win?!”

Jasper didn’t answer right away, and that silence was more terrifying than any words. As Rowan glanced at him, he saw a shift in Jasper’s expression—a quiet resolution settling across his features. Jasper turned toward Rowan with a sad, bittersweet smile, a softness in his eyes that made Rowan’s heart ache.

“It’ll be okay,” Jasper said gently, nodding as if trying to convince both Rowan and himself. “We got this.”

Rowan hesitated, his breath hitching—but he nodded back. There was no turning back now.

Watching this unfold from the present, Rowan clenched his fists as the memory played out before him like a nightmare he could never wake from. He hated this part. He knew what was coming. He glanced at Jasper standing beside him in this strange dream-space, lost in his own thoughts, his expression somber and haunted.

Stacy, still beside them, scribbled quietly in her notebook, though her usual chipper demeanor had dimmed. Even she seemed affected by the weight of this memory.

Rowan squeezed his eyes shut, covering his ears as snippets of past conversations filtered in, muted and distorted, like distant echoes carried by the wind.

“—over there! Hit them!”
“You’re bleeding—come on!”
“Just one more—JASPER!!”

The stench of blood, sharp and metallic, mingled with the acrid fumes of chemicals. It clawed at Rowan’s senses, dragging him deeper into the memory he never wanted to relive.

When he opened his eyes, the scene before him nearly brought him to his knees.

Jasper stood gasping for breath, his tangled hair plastered to his face with sweat and blood—purple streaks dripping down his arms. Every ragged inhale sounded like it could be his last. The beast loomed before them, towering and grotesque, watching with too many gleaming eyes, as if deciding when to strike again.

Rowan wasn’t faring any better. His body was battered and bruised, deep cuts from blackened thorns wrapping around his limbs like chains. His mushroom was cracked, scarred, and bleeding at the edges. He swayed where he stood, barely upright, every nerve in his body screaming for rest.

Jasper closed his eyes for a moment—just a moment—and when he opened them again, his gaze was steady. Clear.

“When I’m gone…” Jasper’s voice was soft but unwavering.

Rowan froze, eyes wide with disbelief. “No…” he whispered, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, no— we still have some fight left, we can— ”

Jasper cut him off with a kiss—deeper, more desperate than any kiss they’d shared before. His hands cradled Rowan’s face, his thumbs brushing away the grime and blood staining his skin, as if trying to memorize every inch of him.

When Jasper pulled away, his breath hitched, and he pressed a finger to Rowan’s lips to hush him.

“When I’m gone…” Jasper whispered, voice cracking, “please know I’ll always be with you. I’m sorry it had to end like this, my comet.”

Tears streamed down Jasper’s cheeks as he hugged Rowan, holding him tight like it was the last thing grounding him to this world. Rowan’s hands trembled as they balled into fists, pounding weakly against Jasper’s back.

“No, please !” Rowan sobbed, his voice breaking. “You can’t! We—we still have so much to do, you asshole! You can’t leave me!” His voice cracked, and he buried his face in Jasper’s shoulder, his tears soaking through his shirt. “Please…”

Jasper’s heart shattered, but he knew what had to be done. With a gentle, pained smile, he pulled away from Rowan’s grip.

He turned toward the beast, knowing this was the only way— for the village, for Rowan, for the love that would outlast this moment.

“JASPER!” Rowan screamed, his voice raw with desperation, but Jasper didn’t look back.

Instead, he took a steady breath, his hands glowing faintly with golden light as he began whispering an incantation under his breath. A shimmering spell circle bloomed at his feet, radiant and intricate, its golden symbols humming with ancient magic.

The beast roared, the sound reverberating through the clearing, but Jasper stood his ground, unwavering. Light began to swirl around him, pure and blinding, as the spell reached its peak.

Just before the light engulfed him, Jasper turned back one last time. His eyes locked with Rowan’s, a bittersweet smile lingering on his lips.

“I..love…you” he whispered, his voice almost lost in the roaring storm of magic.

Rowan’s scream tore through the memory like a jagged knife as the white light exploded outward, swallowing everything in its wake.

And then—

Silence.

 

The scene faded like smoke dispersing into the night air, giving way to a quiet, somber reality. The clearing had transformed—what was once chaos and battle was now eerily still. The sky stretched above them, a deep, velvety blue scattered with stars, as if mourning in silence. The beast lay motionless, its body sprawled across the ground, dark blood pooling beneath it.

Rowan knelt beside the lifeless creature, his trembling hands hovering in disbelief. Jasper… was gone. His chest felt like it had caved in, a hollow ache where hope used to live. Slowly, as if in a trance, he looked down at his palm—and there it was. A simple ring, resting against his skin.

He stared at it, his mind unable to comprehend what it meant. The world around him blurred, sounds became distant echoes, and his body—burning, aching—felt like it didn’t belong to him anymore. His breath hitched, sharp and uneven, but no relief came.

Then it hit him.

The numbness shattered, and Rowan clutched his sides as though trying to hold himself together, fingers clawing into his skin. A raw, agonizing scream tore from his throat—a sound so guttural it echoed into the night, reverberating through the trees. He doubled over, his body wracked with sobs, his voice hoarse as he cried Jasper’s name over and over, each call more desperate than the last.

His grief was absolute—violent and unrelenting. It consumed him.

…

 Jasper stood still, his chest heaving with silent emotion. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as the weight of the memory pressed down on him. He had lived through it once before, but somehow, seeing it unfold again—reliving Rowan’s heartbreak—struck him deeper than he ever imagined. He blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Stacy wiping her face quickly, sniffing as she snapped her notebook shut, pretending she wasn’t crying. Her usual carefree demeanor was gone, replaced by a quiet sadness. Jasper gave her a grateful glance, though neither of them spoke.

Then both turned to Rowan, who had sunk to his knees in the dream-space. Silent tears trickled down Rowan’s cheeks, each drop glistening like pearls in the dim light. His shoulders trembled, though he made no sound now—just quiet, endless grief.

Jasper’s heart broke all over again. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to pull Rowan into his arms and tell him it was okay—that he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere. But no words came. The memory hung between them like a heavy curtain, and all they could do was stand together in the shared ache of what once was.

Stacy sniffled again, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Well... that was intense ," she mumbled, trying to inject a bit of levity into the crushing atmosphere—but even her voice wavered.

Jasper didn’t respond. His gaze stayed on Rowan. Jasper knelt down, wrapping his arms tightly around Rowan as the other man trembled, his sobs raw and heart-wrenching.

“You asshole!” Rowan choked through his tears, clutching Jasper’s shirt in desperation. “You left me... all alone. We could’ve... I could’ve...” His words dissolved into uncontrollable sobs, his breath hitching painfully in his chest. Jasper only held him closer, running his hand in slow, soothing circles over Rowan’s back.

“I know... I know,” Jasper whispered, his voice soft with regret. “I had to protect you, but if things had gone any other way... I wouldn’t be here right now. And still, every day I thank the stars that I got another chance—another chance to be with you.”

He gently pulled back, his hands sliding to Rowan’s shoulders, steadying him as he met Rowan’s teary gaze. Jasper took a deep breath, as though gathering all the love in his heart into the words he was about to say.

“My love, my stars, my everything,” he murmured, his voice reverent,“you are the reason the universe brought me back. Let my words shine brighter than any star on the brink of death, because my love for you isn’t just for this lifetime—it’s infinite. It transcends timelines, alternate universes, and every future that tries to tear us apart. I can’t— I won’t —live without you. Not again. And I know you can’t, either.”

Rowan’s eyes shimmered, more tears slipping down his cheeks as Jasper’s words sank in.

“I want to be with you,” Jasper continued, his voice cracking slightly from the weight of his emotions. “I want us to be bonded, now and forever, so that nothing— nothing —can ever pull us apart. I promise to love you, to cherish you, to protect you, until the very end of time.”

Jasper's fingers trembled slightly as he cupped Rowan’s face, wiping away his tears with his thumbs. His heart pounded in his chest, but his gaze was steady, filled with certainty and devotion.

“Rowan Nova... will you marry me?” Jasper whispered, his voice tender and filled with hope. “I promise—I swear—I’ll never leave you again.”

Stacy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. She smiled so hard it hurt, her sobs breaking through as she watched the moment unfold before her. The intensity of Jasper's words, the raw vulnerability between the two, hit her square in the heart. It was the kind of love people dreamed of—and here it was, right in front of her.

Rowan stared at Jasper, his breath catching as a brilliant new color bloomed in his eyes—a deep, shimmering cerise that glowed with emotion. Tears streamed down his face, but through the tears, he laughed—light, joyful, and breathless.

“You idiot… You stupid, stupid idiot!” Rowan choked, unable to contain his happiness. “Yes! Yes! Of course I’ll marry you, Jas!”

Without hesitation, Rowan flung his arms around Jasper’s neck, burying his face into Jasper’s shoulder, his body trembling with overwhelming joy. Jasper let out a triumphant laugh, pure relief and love pouring out of him. In one smooth motion, he stood up, scooping Rowan into his arms and spinning him around in a wide, dizzying circle.

Rowan’s laughter rang through the air, vibrant and unrestrained, as the room seemed to glow with their shared happiness. His legs kicked slightly in the air, and his tail flicked wildly in excitement as Jasper held him tight, unwilling to let him go even for a second.

Jasper stopped spinning but kept Rowan close, their foreheads pressed together as they both caught their breath, hearts racing in sync. Rowan smiled through his tears, his cerise-colored eyes gleaming with a joy so intense it felt almost unreal.

Stacy, still watching from the sidelines, sobbed openly now, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. 

"I love my job," she whispered through her tears, grinning like a fool.

-

Stacy allowed the duo a moment to collect themselves, this moment was totally not for herself, not at all. Ignore the smudged mascara. 

Anyway.

After everyone had collected themselves Stacy placed her notebook in the crook of her arm, the pen tucked behind an ear. 

“I’d say this should be the end of our session today, I’ll be seeing you two soon. Does next week work well for you both?” 

Jasper nodded, Rowan was too focused clinging to him and therefore did not respond. Stacy took it as a confirmation anyway and wrote a small note on her hand to later transfer to her calendar. 

Sighing she stepped forward, smiled, and tapped them both on the forehead with a finger, in the real world their bodies jolted and they woke up. The mindscape dissipated around them and now the trio were back within Stacy’s trailer. 

She helped them both stand up, knowing that going into someone’s mind can be rather disorienting for a first timer, but was surprised when they shook her off and moved easily toward the door. 

She narrowed her eyes, curious, but decided to ask about it at their next session. She grabbed a small bag of goodies and moved to the door, handing over a little wrapped vinyl goodie bag to both men and waving them goodbye. 

…

Jasper and Rowan walked their way back to the village, to their house. As they went Rowan ripped the shiny bag open with his teeth. A few goodies falling out into a waiting palm. 

A lollipop, a ring, and a small-

“Fuck!” 

Rowan threw the small glow in the dark spider necklace away from him, shivering. Jasper watched with wide eyes and then snickered. 

“Since when were you afraid of spiders?” 

Rowan huffed and shrugged, too nervous to relay what had happened in Bela’s mind to him just yet. Tomorrow he would do it, but not today. He wasn't ready. 

Jasper frowned, but shrugged it off, sure the shorter man would give him an answer when he was ready. He trusted Rowan to talk to him, he knew he would do it soon. So with hesitance he carried on talking about trading the lollipops they got. 

They carried small mindless chatter as they walked back to Jasper’s house, their shared house now, and Jasper opened the door for Rowan to walk through, bowing slightly as he did so.

“My prince.” 

Rowan scoffed and swatted him with his tail before ducking under his arm and walking into the house. 

Chapter 49: fourty nine

Chapter by Honeydrrop

Rowan made his way through the village, back toward their house, admiring the ring adorning his finger. A silver ring, engraved with sigils and runes, and topped off with a blue crystal. Jasper held a matching one on his hand as well. 

Their engagement rings.

Just the name made butterflies swarm in Rowan's stomach. He couldn't believe it. They were well and truly engaged. Engaged!

He was practically skipping as he made his way to the manor, tail wagging happily behind him and small rosebuds blooming from his vines. Nothing could ruin his mood!

…

Yeah, nothing.

Rowan stared at his father before him, Brutus, sitting in an armchair in a now lit corner of the darkened living room. 

“Son.” 

Rowan stood to attention, waiting, tail moving and flicking nervously.

Jasper entered the room, he froze as he caught sight of the man in the corner. 

“Uh-”

“Jas, don’t say anything.” 

Jasper’s eyes flicked to him, and he stepped closer, hiding behind the shorter man. His hair flaring slightly in the air. 

“Hey.” Rowan dragged out the y of the word, “Nice seeing you here Dad, what are, uh, what are you doing here.” 

Brutus glared rather darkly, motioning toward the hands Rowan had hidden behind his back.

“Do you have something to tell me?” 

Rowan blanked and shook his head rapidly.

“Ha, uh, nope, nothing at all!”

Brutus glared and beckoned Rowan forward with a hand, Rowan shuffled forward nervously. When he made his way to his father the man held his hand before berating him in latin. 

“Fili, scio te occupatum esse. Quomodo te - Quomodo tu modo - Traditiones sequi proelio, Non possum credere mihi non dixisti!”

“Papa, me- bene -paenitet. Oblitus sum pius erat tantum ac deinde fieri”

Brutus shook his head tsking under his breath disappointedly. 

“Traditions are important, little mush.” 

Rowan’s ears dropped as he sighed, his previous elation now crushed under heel by the slight disappointment of his father.

“I know..”

Brutus leveled himself from the chair, staring pointedly at Jasper and then back at Rowan. He ruffled Rowan’s hair, and gave him a hug. 

“I will say, I am rather happy about your engagement. You deserve good things son.” 

Rowan ignored the tears bubbling in his eyes. Pulling back from the hug and wiping his face. Brutus chuckled and moved to Jasper who looked nervously for somewhere to run to. 

“You.”

Jasper froze and looked down at Brutus, he was staring up at him with a firm expression. Brutus stuck out a hand, face softening slightly.

“Welcome to the family, son.” 

—

“Asa, what are you doing here?”

“My Queen, I was told some rather frightening news, I figured you should know about it as soon as possible.” 

“What kind of news?”

“Ian mentioned during our therapy session that a figure from his past may be hunting both him and Johnny.”

“...”

“This could pose a threat to the kingdom if he decides to come here and attack them.” 

“Asa, I need you to do something for me.”

“Yes, my Queen?” 

“Alert the Guard, send out patrols around the island and make sure everything is secure. Tell the Guard to send select groups to tail and guard both Johnny and Ian at all times. Find my consorts, I need to make sure they are safe as well. In the meantime I will alert our allies on what’s happening.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Before you go, what is the name of this threat? Do you know?” 

“His name is Zerithos, my Queen.” 

“Zerithos…”

“Do you know this name?”

“Yes, Ian has mentioned him to me before.”

“Make sure the Guards and battalions are prepared for flying and light based attacks. He will be sure to send his angels if he dares attack.” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” 

“And, Asa?” 

“Yes?”

“Be quick, be fast, these are dangerous times now.” 

…

“Thea? Why have you called? We aren’t scheduled to meet up until two weeks from now.” 

“Carmen, I may have to cancel my attendance for that meeting. A problem has appeared.” 

“A problem?”

“A man, named Zerithos, is likely to try and attack the kingdom. He might try and attack you as well, please, if you can, be safe Carmen.” 

“Thea, this better not be some sick kind of prank, what you talk about. It could mean your death.” 

“We all know I’d fight my way back to life. But rest assured, I have apt protection.”

“..Thea, please, stay safe. I can’t lose another friend.” 

“...”

“Thea?”

“Sorry, I was lost in thought. But Carmen, once this is over, I have something to tell you.” 

“Better not be some kind of love confession.”

“Ah, you're in a better mood now if you're joking like this. But no, it is no confession. It is something I have kept secret for a few months now. A near year at this rate.”

“Thea, you're scaring me, what do you mean?”

“Nothing, nothing, I will tell you in time.” 

“...I trust you Thea. Well then, I must warn my Guard. Stay safe.” 

“You as well, I hope to see you soon.”

—

Bela found herself in the air, and then suddenly on the ground. 

“OW!” 

A voice yelled from under her, Bela scrambled off of the body that had cushioned her fall and moved to help them up. They stood before she could help them, and the next sentence made her wish she had run into someone else, just a little bit. 

“There you are!” 

Ian grabbed her by the shoulders, his expression worried and alarmed but just a small bit relieved as well.

“Where have you been?!” 

Bela bit her lip and looked away, rocking on her heels. 

“Talking to everyone.” 

“Everyone?”

“Yeah y’know like, Cirro and Elias and Rowan and Jasper, Lucas too.” 

“You talked to Lucas?!” 

“What, no. Ignore that.” 

“I am not going to just ignore that, explain.”

“Okay so like, what if I didn’t though.” 

Bela teleported from his grasp with a wink, leaving him to stumble slightly before groaning and putting his head in his hands. 

“I really hate your whole teleporting shtick.” 

“But it’s so fun!” 

“To you maybe.” 

Bela pouted and then skipped forward, grabbing Ian by the elbow and dragging him with her as she walked.

“Woah! Hey, where are we going?” 

“Kitchen.” 

“Why there?”

“You seem stressed and Johnny told me you loved to bake so,” She turned to him with a blinding grin, “we’re going to bake something.” 

…

The kitchen was rather elaborate, expansive, and gilded. Any other word for fancy, really. Bela was oddly reminded of the large kitchen at her home, the one she had not visited since she stepped foot here. Maybe she should go visit soon, maybe it would be good for her. 

Skipping across the tile she summoned an apron, baby blue with white dotted flowers, and tied it around her- hopefully final- outfit choice. A blue corset, white silk ribbons and detailing. A darker blue dress, white silk ribbons tied around the flowing sleeves at the elbows, and covered in small moon patterns. One leg encased in swirling ribbons, the other bare. A pair of stiletto heels, white and glass like, with blue roses on the ankle and the tip of the foot. 

Her hair was held back, half up half down, with a silk ribbon. Long and flowing in her starry locks. 

Overall her look was nowhere near suited for a kitchen, more so a runway, and yet she kept it because she was feeling rather lackadaisical with changing. 

“So, any ideas on what to make today?” 

Ian shifted on his feet, following Bela and grabbing a black and white striped apron. 

“Apple tarts?” 

Bela smiled at him, rocking back on her heels.

“Got a history with those?”

“I used to make them for Johnny.”

“Aw, how cute!”

She hopped forward, skipping across the small distance between her and Ian and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“We gotta make the best apple tarts this universe has ever seen then.” 

…

After a long and tiresome battle, a large selection of tarts had been made.

Never let it be said that Belladonna Dumitrescu did not work beyond expectations. 

She stood before various trays each one containing a tart of a different flavor. Apple, strawberry, cherry, blueberry, blackberry; you name it, you got it. 

“Do you think we made enough?”

Silence. 

Bela turned around, Ian stared at her. His face covered in flour dust and apron in fruit stains. 

“Yes.” 

Bela stared and then smiled, grabbing the decorated tray of apple tarts and shoving it into Ian’s arms. 

“Go give em to him then!” 

“Can I at least wash the flour off?”

“No! Go, go, go!” 

She shoved Ian out of the kitchen, watching as he stumbled and caught himself shortly after so as not to drop the tray. With a sigh he straightened up and marched toward his bedroom where Johnny had been waiting. 

Bela smiled to herself as she watched him go, and then she whirled around gazing at the messy kitchen. 

“Ah, we should clean up, yes?” 

She waved her hands, the appliances coming to life and whirling through the air as they cleaned and placed themselves in their proper places. Bela stood in the thick of it moving her arms as though conducting an orchestra. She hummed under her breath as the dishes were placed back, sang as they cleaned, and twirled as they dried. Her own little band. 

Once everything was clean she balanced the trays across her arms and carried them from the kitchen, walking her way toward the large dining hall. A few guards rushed up to her, but seeing what she was doing, offered to help instead of explaining the lockdown of the Palace. Though one did press a button to their earpiece, mentioning that the First Queen Consort had been secured. 

Bela ignored it, far more focused on who she would be feeding all these tarts too. 

Maybe…

Maybe she should give Jasper and Rowan a gift. 

That would be a nice, friendly thing to do, yes? 

—

Ian carried the tray down the halls, balancing it over one arm rather flawlessly. As he went he caught sight of various guards watching him, pointing at him and calling out orders through their earpieces. Is this what Asa had mentioned when she had gone to alert the Queen? Would he be treated like this the entire time? 

He shook his head and continued the walk, his tail flicking nervously behind him and ears twitching. Eventually he had made his way back to his room, Johnny would be behind the door. 

Johnny.

He would see him in all his flour covered glory. Fruit stained apron and tray of apple tarts. 

Ian felt strangely sheepish, nervous even, to be giving this gift so openly. They hadn't done this since they were young, would his message, his gift, be received well? He hoped so, he hoped it would make Johnny feel better after everything they had been through thus far. 

He shook the thoughts off and nudged the door open with his shoulder, kicking it closed behind him he took note of the seemingly empty room. Where had Johnny gone? Back to his lab? Or…

Ian took notice of the light in the corner and moved past the large doorway, the bathroom was open slightly. There he was then. 

Ian settled the tray of tarts on a table near the entrance, long and thin, and made his way toward the crooked open door. He knocked on the wood with a hand, light and soft. 

“Hey, Birdie.” 

Johnny voiced lured Ian into the bathroom.

“Come on in, I’m just doing my hair.” 

Ian opened the door, shielding his eyes behind a hand and calling out with a smile. 

“Yeah?” 

He heard a scoff, Johnny moving from where he had sat himself and grabbing at Ian’s hand. 

“C'mon you goof, I’m not naked or anything.” 

Ian chuckled and let his hand be moved, his eyes being graced with the sight of Johnny. His hair down, half braided on each side. His face softened, his fingers laced with Johnny’s and their hands settled between them. 

“I got a surprise for you Birdie.” 

“I think I can tell what it is.” 

“How so?”

Johnny gestured to his body, flour covered and fruit stained. Ian laughed and rubbed the back of neck. 

“Yeah, I guess you got me there.”

Johnny smiled at him, letting their hands free and moving back toward the mirror to finish his braids. 

“I’m almost done with my hair, come, I’ll wash the flour off your face while you wait. 

…

“So, what was your surprise?”

“Why don’t you follow me and see?”

“Oh being all mysterious then, sure I’ll bite.” 

…

“Is- Did you?”

Johnny looked between the tray and Ian so much his head was spinning. There were small tears in his eyes, beading and fading with a blink.

“Yeah. Do you, uh, like it?” 

“Like it?”

Johnny moved forward and tackled Ian into a large hug, sending them stumbling a small step back since Ian had not been prepared to catch him. His tail wound around Johnny’s leg, his arms around his waist. 

“I love it!”

Johnny pulled back from the hug so he could lock eyes with Ian, smiling all the while. 

“I know what you mean by it, you really didn't have to go all the way out and make these. It’s a sweet gesture though. Your message shines through with them. The idea that despite it all, we'll still be those young kids back then, before all the pain and hurt. That we can still enjoy those simple joys and childish whimsy. I wanted to tell you, I’ve been thinking about it a while, but I wanted to at least say it.” 

He buried his face into Ian’s chest then as he spoke, his words muffled but Ian still caught them. 

“I love you enough to find you in every universe, I love you enough to dedicate the rest of my life, towards you.” 

…

The sun had begun to set, the two talking all the while. Simple things, small things, loving things. KIsses traded, laced with the taste of apples. A tail wound around a waist, and arm around a shoulder. Bodies pressed together. 

“So how did you make all these tarts, there’s so many.”

“Oh, well, Bela insisted on doing it-”

“Wait a minute, Bela?”

“Yeah, I did tell you she was back right?”

“NO?!”

“Oh, well, I believe she'd still be near the kitchen. Or maybe the dining halls?” 

“...”

“Ian, darling, I’ll be right back. I have a woman to smack over the head for not saying ‘Hi’.” 

…

Bela sat at the table, on the table technically, and gazed at the decorated and frilled trays surrounding her on top of the pristine tablecloth. 

What to do, what to do. 

She tapped a finger against her chin.

She could visit Rowan and Jasper like she had planned, but she didn't know how much they liked tarts. Cirro and Elias maybe? Or maybe they were still wary of her. No, no, that wouldn't do. 

Johnny and Ian then? 

But did not they have a thing with apple tarts?

Bah, why had she made so many?!

She huffed and crossed her arms, sparks glimmering across her skin as she sulked and cursed her past self. 

In the distance she could hear the sound of organized marching and faint running, she ignored it. Perhaps Vacanate had noticed her Guard following her and chose to run from it? The image made Bela laugh, just a bit, and then she soured for ever laughing at the image of that woman. 

Despite what she had gone through, with them in the depths of her mind, she still felt rather cross with her wife. But at least, she supposed, she felt rather guilty for the weight of Vacantae’s punishment. 

It is true that Void had done terrible crimes, terrible things, and broke her laws. But still. She couldn't help but feel pity and sorrow for her, maybe she was biased seeing as she was so connected to the other woman. Her other half. But still. 

Bela sighed and dropped her head into her hands. 

She didn't know what to think. 

She simply..

Didn't know. 

Bela would have cried, had the door to the room not opened releasing a wild march of a person. 

She tilted her head up from her hands, frowning. And then, a hit, right over the back of her curled hair. 

“Ow!”

She shot up rubbing the back of her head where the hit had landed, prepared to yell a slew of curses at the person who dared to smack her. 

“I- oh. Johnny!” 

She leaped off the table, arms open for a hug. Johnny glared at her, face sour. 

“What’s with that look, greier?” 

His face contorted, confusion and disgruntlement playing in one.

“Greier?”

“It means cicada, cause your wings are kinda like a cicada’s!” 

Johnny seemed rather interested by this but shook his head, instead opening his mouth to berate her for not greeting him when she returned. 

“You waltz back and don’t even say hi?!” 

Bela blinked and then dropped her arms, crossing them over her chest. 

“Well I didn't even know you knew I was gone!” 

“Wha- You vanished in front of Ian? Of course he would tell me?” 

“Well I thought I’d be back before you came out of your shutdown!” 

“Wha-” He stared at her and mirrored her pose, crossing his arms as well.

“What were you even doing?!”

“Oh y'know, just visiting people, talking to everyone, the works.” 

“Visiting who?”

“Uh.” 

Bela looked down at her hands as she listed the people she talked to. A finger popping up for each name.

“Cirro and Elias, I changed that void they lived in cause it was so unromantic.” 

“Rowan and Jasper, I talked to them separately of course.” 

“Lucas-” 

“You talked to Lucas?!”

“Yeah, huh, guess I did say that. Whoops cats out of the bag then!” 

“Fuck you mean, whoops?”

“Whoops.” 

She shrugged then and folded her arms behind her back before moving backwards to the table behind her and falling into an open seat. 

“Want to talk about it over tarts?” 

Johnny blinked, stared at her, and then sighed in defeat. Moving forward he grabbed a chair and a tart and turned to her. 

“Talk.” 

“Okay!” 

Chapter 50: fifty

Chapter by Honeydrrop

“Okay, so, what do you wanna know?”

 

Johnny bit into a tart, trying not to get distracted by the flavor. “ Okay, so ,” he began mockingly, “what the fuck? ”

 

“What?”

 

“You just left?! Hello?”

 

“Well, I did tell you where I went.”

 

“And one of those places had Lucas? And I know it wasn’t a random Lucas, it was my Lucas because Ian’s Lucas is dead and you don’t really go anywhere where the other possible existences of Lucas—”

 

“O- kay ! Too much Lucas, you might summon him!”

 

Johnny grumbled a little, stuffing the rest of the tart into his mouth to silence a new, possibly colorful, rant. He sighed. Damn, this was some good shit.

 

“Why Lucas?” He reached for another tart. “I mean, come on, after what happened?” 

 

She only smiled. He tensed.

 

“He is still with us, yes?”

 

“Oh, please! I wouldn’t—”

 

“You would.”

 

“...”

 

“Okay, I would. But! I didn’t! Aren’t you proud of me?”

 

Johnny furrowed his brow. Stared daggers into his friend.

 

“What did you do to him?”

 

“ To him? Oh, no! We had a tea party!”

 

“You what?”

 

“Oh, it was impromptu, but come on! And, um, he may know that you, uh, massacred that demon.”

 

“Did he know that I was gonna get massacred first?”

Bela pursed her lips in thought, then frowned playfully. “Um…about that.”

 

“So you made me look even more like a psycho?!”

“Well, no! Ian knew what happened, I left him to explain!”

 

“Ian?”

“Oh, um, the other one.”

 

Johnny fell silent. He’d nearly forgotten about what had happened between them. Or that he lived.

 

Or that this Ian wasn’t the original.

 

He wanted to shoo the thoughts away. They lingered.

 

“The peacock was there.”

 

“Peacock?”

 

Bela nodded, grinning. “Him and his gremlin boyfriend! Or, wait, were they husbands? Something like that!”

 

Johnny squinted in confusion. Who the fuck was the peacock? And a gremlin? What?

 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, you’ve met them before! Talked about them, too!”

 

Peacock? Maybe someone flashy…

 

Zaaz.

 

Oh god.

 

“He has a boyfriend? ”

 

“Is Faranei not his lover?”

 

“Last I checked, no?!”

 

“Oops.”

 

“What the hell do you mean, oops?! What did you do?!”

Bela shrugged. “Pointed them in the right direction, I suppose. OOH , and there was the cutest baby there! He’s so adorable. Lionas, right?”

 

“Uh…right.”

 

“He’s so cute. He loves me, it was so fun! He clung to me the whole time!”

 

Johnny cocked his head. “He was always pretty particular about who held him.”

 

“Then I’m one of the lucky ones?!”

 

More tart. Stuffed mouth. Sighing.

 

“He knows.”

 

“Knows what?”

 

“That his… interactions pertaining to Elenor were not all that great.”

 

Johnny hummed. “Is that why you went?”

 

“I debated punching him. He did attack me, though.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Maybe for the baby, I’m not sure. Don’t care to know.”

 

“Is he–”

 

“Yes, yes, I don’t kidnap , Johnny. What do you take me for?!”

 

“I’m just being realistic!”

 

Bela rolled her eyes. Smoothed her clothes. 

 

“He knows he hurt you.”

 

“I know he knows.”

 

“He knows I helped you.”

 

Bela watched a small smirk tug at his mouth. “That’s one way to rub salt in the wound.”

 

“Oh! I know, right?! It was great!”

Johnny poked at a tart, flicking his eyes up to a rather pleased Bela. 

“Not to be off topic, but, what did you put into these? Besides fruit of course.” 

“Magic!”

“Magic? Literal or drug magic?” 

“Drugs?! What kind of person do you take me for?!”

“Someone who does things for her own fun.”

“I-”

Bela pouted at him, her lips twisting slightly as she huffed. 

“You may have won this battle, but don't believe I’ll let you off the hook!” 

“Well? What did you put in them?” 

“Hm, raspberries for that one, blueberries for that, blackberries over there and-” 

“A lot of fruits then, did you experiment with them? Mix any together? I know you made them with Ian, did he do most of the baking or did you both do it together?” 

“Well first off you don’t mix fruits when it comes to tarts. And second off yes, I made them with Ian but we both did equal cooking with it. Mainly though, he worked with the apple tarts.” 

Johnny smiled at the mention, a light blush decorating his face. Bela smiled and teased him.

“Someone looks rather lovesick over there, anything you wanna share with the class?” 

“No.”

“Aw you're no-” 

Bela froze, her body straightening up in her seat from her rather relaxed position. 

“Bela?”

Johnny moved, a hand on her shoulder, a worried look on his face. Was she alright? Was it another episode? A side effect of her shattered mind? What-

“Something just happened.” 

Johnny blinked, then furrowed his brows. Something just happened? What did she mean by that? And why- Why the hell was she standing up?!

“Bela!” 

She turned to Johnny, her expression vague and distant. 

“I’ll be back, just…”

She blinked and seemed to come back to herself, her brows furrowing down and her eyes darkening in a glare. 

“Jasper.”

Johnny stood from his chair, grabbing at her arm lightly. 

“Did something happen to him?!”

“Something is about to.”

And then she was gone, leaving Johnny to mourn the fact that his friends were fucking insane and just simply could not communicate normally.

…

Bela appeared moments later, moments in her version. Thirty minutes later in reality. After all, she was not one for kidnapping and therefore had explained to Maia the exact reason both Rowan and Jasper would be gone. 

Either way, there she was, back in tow with Rowan and Jasper. 

Johnny whirled around, a lashing of words ready to be spoken, however he faltered seeing both a relatively unharmed Jasper and Rowan before him. 

“I thought you said something was going to happen to him? Did you stop it?”

“Stop it? No.”

She let go of both Rowan and Jasper and turned to face the taller man. Smiling serenely she placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip unforgiving and harsh. 

“What’s going to happen to him is this.” 

And with grace, she wound up a hand. 

And slapped him. 

Quick, like a viper. A hard hit, like iron to the gut. Jasper’s head spun, snapping to the side. He stumbled out of her grip, and clutched at his face. Rowan moved forward, yelling. Bela turned around and made a shushing signal and suddenly he found himself with no voice. 

She turned back to the man she had just slapped and crossed her arms, ignoring the yanks at her waist and elbows from Rowan. 

“That’s what happens when, YOU DON'T TELL ME YOU PROPOSED AND ESPECIALLY WHEN IT HAPPENS IN SUCH AN UNROMANTIC MANNER!” 

Jasper winced, covering his ears and appearing rather sheepish. It seems Bela hadn't been so swayed by his monologue towards Rowan to ignore the place it had been in. 

“I mean c'mon, Thea proposed to me by the beach! The beach! The most romantic place ever! And you-” She threw an arm out and spun around pacing as she ranted. 

“You just had to purpose in such a bleak, depressing, unromantic, setting! I know you can do better than that! You fought your way from death for him! At least make it seem like you did so out of love when you propose! Ugh, this is just-” 

She turned around, standing rather menacingly, hands twitching at her side and staring bullets down at the duo before her. 

“I need to plan a fucking engagement party.” 

“No you do-”

“Yes I do.”

Rowan froze, and then nodded as he was faced with a rather murderous glare. 

“Uh, yeah, sure, yes you do.” 

Bela stood there, muttering under her breath and mentally planning how it would work with the new security measures the palace faced. 

Rowan leaned toward Jasper and nodded at a window nearby.

“Let’s just jump.”

“I am not jumping out that window.”

“Why not?”

“I will die.”

“No you won't, look, I go first and then I catch you.”

“More like break my fall when I crush you.”

Rowan leaned back, hand against his chest, looking rather offended and shocked. 

“I would not fail at catching you!”

Jasper gave him a look, and then motioned to his thin arms and back at Jasper’s much taller much leaner figure. Rowan stared at him, lips pressed together, eyes wide. Jasper stared back, unimpressed. 

A loud clap interrupted them from their battle. They turned and found themselves being herded by Bela out the room as soon as their eyes met her own. 

“Alright! Let’s get this show on the road! Johnny! Get your ass over here!” 

Johnny sighed in defeat, his head hanging before he spun on his heel and followed the determined woman. 

…

The angels.

Why are so many missing?

Scanning the profiles, they seem to be intact from the original world. My smaller kingdom.

But the newer ones…

Who?

What happened?

…

Zerithos wandered almost angrily, leaving a trail of darkening gray clouds beneath him. The ground of Heaven began to rumble. 

A thunderstorm, an angry one.

Seraph recognized this. From when Malcom had been pronounced dead.

His favorite angel, gone. Dead.

It was a terrifying storm. Went on for weeks. Caused floods, according to some of the messenger angels.

Oh, but it cleared up immediately when he gathered more angels.

Seraph was scared of these other angels. They reminded him of Zachary. Reminded him of Malcom. Practically no emotions, nothing like the angels he knew. They bled the same, sure, but they felt so foreign.

But Zerithos had expanded his kingdom. He didn’t care what the new angels were like. They were angels, and that’s all that mattered.

There was one, though, that always seemed a little closer to his group than the other.

Grace.

He hadn’t interacted with him much, but he was certainly pretty.

He felt guilty for that.

Maybe Malcom wouldn’t like it.

He always mentally apologized to Malcom, wherever he was, for looking at Grace that same way. Not that Grace ever knew about it.

He just reminded him of Malcom so much. Maybe there was a void in him being filled.

He hated it. The way his heart fluttered at his gaze. The way his voice made his ears twitch.

It was the only time he was thankful for them having been cut. He wouldn’t get noticed for all the ear fluttering.

Zerithos never questioned him. He was too focused on the new angels coming in from the Collide. That’s all he called it, the Collide. Never elaborated, but made it something to be rejoiced. After all, it meant the expansion of his kingdom. Of his power.

He hated this man.

They exchanged a few words once. Without having to go through all the professional things.

Are you okay?

Hm?

Are you…okay? You look sad.

I am.

Seraph only hummed then. He didn’t know whether Grace meant he was sad or okay.

He wished he did. At least asked for some kind of clarification.

But no.

Maybe it was his fault they were all gone now.

He saw him. It happened while Zerithos was out. He was looking for two people, apparently. Two very important individuals, two that Seraph figured he knew all too well.

Maybe Grace would have died had Zerithos not been searching so much.

He was thankful. For him being so easily distracted.

Not that he wanted to see a massacre. Or nearly be a part of one. But he hated these angels.

Grace seemed to be going against most of his native angels, though. It was a horrible thing, seeing him so enraged, so distraught. It reminded him of his own grief, something he wanted to do but never could. He envied Grace for it.

But, part of him wanted to offer comfort he didn’t receive himself. He wanted to kiss him, comfort him and prevent all the bloodshed for his own sanity.

He almost killed Seraph, too.

His bare hands, bloodied, but now having taken the weaponry of one of the angels Seraph knew. An Archangel, maybe, he didn’t know.

Not when he was being faced with the possibility of murder.

He pointed the sword at Seraph. It dug into his neck slightly, he remembered that.

He also remembered how it made him bleed. How Grace withdrew the blade. How the tip was stained not with gold, but with an odd inky purple.

He didn’t understand why, amidst his animosity, that he’d taken the time to spare him.

He didn’t understand that his unique blood was the reason, the only reason.

Nothing more.

—

The angels had all been interrogated now.

Well, not verbally. Zerithos had tapped into their memories.

Halo after halo, each memory depicted different perspectives of the exact same scenario. Grace in the middle of the carnage.

He was lucky that Zerithos didn’t look at Seraph’s memories. He never bothered with Seraph.

“I’ll be back,” Zerithos boomed. The clouds stormed. Thunder rumbled, crackling with fury.

Zerithos was gone.

—

He was not easy to find, as I had hoped.

Something about this one is different. The magical ties are lesser. I don’t recall this happening with anyone else.

Nobody besides Lucaius. A poor excuse of a son.

They have to have been cut from the same cloth. Why else would they do the same thing? Wreak such havoc, cause such unnecessary bloodshed?

Disgusting. So disobedient.

Why is he moping over a stone? What is this?

“You.”

No response?

Inexcusable.

The rain has drenched him. But it has not removed the evidence of the ichor beneath his fingernails.

This must be a grave. Has the word “Rose” etched into it. Looks all sloppy, though, like it had been carved by hand.

Silly humans and their woes.

He won’t look at me. Just staring at that ridiculous stone.

“ Look. At. Your. King. ”

I grab his face. Tilt it towards mine.

He looks at me the same way Adam did. It stirs something within me.

“Let go.”

I squeeze. He glares.

“You have slaughtered my angels.”

“They were never yours to begin with.”

Those same words.

Adam said those same damn words.

Perhaps he was sent to haunt me. A permanent reminder of Adam.

Or maybe.

No.

Yes .

Perhaps this is a second chance.

Perhaps he will be better than Adam was.

“Come with me.”

“No.”

“You will. ”

“No.” He puts his hand around my wrist. Lowers my hand from his face. I allow it. He has courage, perhaps too much of it.

Let’s see where that gets you.

“I refuse to go back to your domain.”

“Oh, we won’t be going to Heaven,” I chuckle.

He cocks his head at me. So disinterested.

“We’re going to pay a visit to a certain kingdom. Perhaps it will be beneficial.”

“I’m not—”

I grab his hand, firmly tugging him off of his pathetic kneeling stance.

“You are. And if you know what’s good for you, you will obey .”

—

At least the tarts are being put to good use, Bela thought as she watched Rowan grab his twentieth tart from the tray and stuff it inside of his mouth rather messily. The dinner party had been, at this point, almost halfway through. In full swing, an array of guests. 

Thea and Vacantae, Johnny and Ian, herself, the Guard, and of course Jasper and Rowan. 

Bela had sat herself beside the happy couple, far removed from her own wives. Of course, she longed to, wanted to, sit with them. But…

Her heart hurt, terribly so, from Void’s actions, her betrayal. 

And so, Bela was far removed from them. Distant. 

Maybe then, if she had sat closer, she wouldn't have been hit by the debris. 

Chapter 51: fifty one

Chapter by Honeydrrop

The ceiling caved in, cracks burrowing across the pristine marbled stone. Cracks became breaks became falling blocks of stone. The table went first, crushed under the chandelier. The attendees dived away from it, sprawled across the rumbling floor on the dining hall. 

Cracks spread, dust falling like the light snow outside. Bela raised a hand in wonder, her mind far away, and watched as the dust sprinkled her warm skin in a light powder. It glowed slightly, golden. And then into pinpricks, pain laced across her arm as small needle-like spikes formed and slashed through her. Piercing flesh, burrowing into bone. 

Bela’s head leaned back, a block of stone heading toward her, the shadow decorating her fallen figure.

Hm.

No.

The block turned into a shower of cold snowfall, Bela blinked as her mind rushed back to awareness. Adrenaline spiking through her body, she hissed between clenched teeth and spun around using her legs and uninjured arm to crawl away from the falling blocks of stone. 

“Johnny!” 

The voice, who was it? Ian! Yes, of course, how could she forget. 

Johnny was in danger? Everyone was in danger. Why was the ceiling falling? Was it the reason the lockdown had happened? Danger, danger, danger. She had to save them. 

Grabbing the needles with her teeth, she dragged them free from her body, blood welling and dripping. Staining, pooling. An iron stench filling her nose, covering her mouth. 

Light magic.

Angels then. 

An arm now covered in holes, Bela stood up, her body hidden behind a cracked and ruined pillar. The top half torn to shreds, no longer supporting a now gone ceiling. There were yells, marching, the sound of fists making contact with flesh and wings cutting through the air. 

She peeked out from behind the pillar, Jasper’s whip lashing out and catching an angel that had hit Rowan by the neck. The angel grabbed at the rope, their hands came away burned and they hit the floor, head rolling away from a now burnt and bleeding neck. 

Johnny had found shelter hidden beneath a few blocks of fallen debris, Ian nearby seemingly stopping any angels from rushing toward it. His eyes nearly black, it was then Bela was reminded that he likely had not eaten for a fair bit. After all, he had mentioned it during dinner, only in his mind of course, but Bela heard anyway. 

Wasn't it dangerous for him not to have eaten? 

Bela ignored that, focused on the now, and looked for someone else. She had to make sure they were alive. 

Thea; a sword piercing two angels like a kabob. Her hair down, blood flowing from her temple, but still she lived. 

Vacantae; an arm likely broken and yet she wielded a spear as though it was of no detriment to her, blinding angels by slashing them across the eyes. Sending them wailing and stumbling into each other, only to be met by Ian’s wrath. 

Rowan; a bomb in hand he stood atop the crushed table, using it as a vantage point to target the angels. Both those in the sky, which surprised Bela she had thought only one angel could fly; Zerithos. And those on the ground, most of which she recognized from Johnny’s tales and Ian’s thoughts. 

Zerithos’ army then, where was he?

She looked up, above the battle far away, lay him. He floated above them, at his side was another angel, also flying. They stared down at the Palace. Bela stared back, her eyes glowing blue, as she enhanced her vision to peer closer. 

The chaos of the room turned out, she focused only on what she saw. 

An angel, about six feet tall, blonde hair, cobalt blue eyes. A uniform, a halo, and wings. 

Grace.

Grace?

Now then, who’s thoughts…

Ah, his. Funny for someone said to be the King of Heaven, and yet he didn't even have his mind protected enough to dispel her. 

Grace. I can use him, he can replace Adam. I have another chance, a better one, to get rid of those demons once and for all. A random angel, able to kill archangels, must be able to kill one singular soul eater. After all, it shouldn't be that much of a challenge, and then…

Then I will have my hand on him, that Phoenix. 

Hands on him?

A smile, a frown, a smile, a frown, a-

Hands on him?

That Phoenix?

Him?

A smile, hands twitching, sparks, rage, pain, loss, grief-

N O T  H I M.

Bela had a goal now, a drive, a mission.

If nothing else, she would find Zerithos’ head on a pike today. 

Let’s play a game. 

…

An Angel stood before her, stumbling, shaking, scared.

Perfect.

She grabbed their shoulder, invaded their mind, and left one order.

Kill for me. 

And then she did it again.

And again.

And again.

And again. 

Angel after Angel fell to her whims, her control, her order, and in the aftermath they slaughtered each other. 

Kill for me.

Die for me. 

Bleed for me.

Destroy for me. 

…

Rowan paused, leaping off the table, and rushing into the thick of the fight. Potions and bombs following his trail, Jasper ahead of him somewhere. 

Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Johnny moving around secretly and stealthily finding new hiding places along with checking on each member stuck in the fight. 

Thea and Vacantae stood back to back, moving steadily through a crowd of angels toward Bela who spun around giggling and moving inhumanly as she controlled the angels around her to attack their brethren. 

Ian seemed to be attacking rather viciously, Rowan noted, as he watched an angel who was nearly torn in half sail through the air and knock out another angel who had been running his way. 

Sniped by a dead body, that was something Rowan had never seen before. 

He also had not seen angels such as these, what was it with them attacking them all. Rowan had literally just gotten here, what the hell had he done to have them crash his own engagement party? 

He shook his head, keeping a eye out for the two floating figures, and-

There was only one.

Shit.

Where was the second?!

Rowan glanced around, his tail curling nervously as he fumbled a potion of acid in his hands. 

He turned to run back to the table, Jasper’s voice echoed after him.

“Rowan!” 

Rowan turned, and froze. 

His gut felt cold, ice cold. Why was that?

The acid fell from his hands, splattering uselessly across the ground and eating at the soles of his shoes. 

His stomach was cold, and warm, and cold, and-

He looked down.

There was a sword in his gut.

Huh.

What?

He looked behind him, a man, blonde hair, cobalt blue eyes, stood behind him. His hand held the sword, gilded and golden. Covered in blood, light pink, nearly translucent. 

Rowan’s blood.

“...Ha.”

His laugh came with splattered blood, his legs shook, the sword was withdrawn and he collapsed to the floor. The angel moved into the crowd, swiftly and without care. Leaving the body of Rowan behind. 

Rowan blinked, his vision fading slightly, his hands shaking as he held them to his wounded gut. 

“..Row- Can- Hear- ROWAN!” 

Rowan blinked, when did his eyes close? Why was he opening them? It hurt, he just wanted to rest? It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. 

“I know it hurts, but please, you have to stay awake for me, please, please, please.” 

Jasper.

His voice.

Rowan struggled to keep his eyes open, his body shutting down. Not toward death, toward a coma more likely. But he didn't have the strength to say it, the ability to voice it. 

He blinked, Jasper was before him, leaning over him.

He blinked, Jasper was curled over him, protecting him.

He blinked, Jasper stood now.

…

Rowan…

Rowan…

Rowan was gone.

His love, his life, his light, his star, his-

His.

Who had taken his love away from him. 

Jasper looked around, the angels closed in. Hordes, groups, crowds. Swords, bows, daggers. 

Black magic crackled around his hands, a ring bleeding out from under his feet, surrounding the prone body of Rowan. 

A field?

A curse?

He didn't know, he knew it would keep him safe though. Safe from them. 

His hair rose, maybe, or maybe it fell. It rose and fell and swirled, body cracking, his bones felt like they were shifting. He moved forward, his leg broke and collapsed in on itself, melting into shadows. His other leg followed. His body sinking down. His hands clawed at the surface, he moved forward, his speech grainy and distorted. 

“You. You. You. I will kill you. Find you. Gorge myself on your blood, the stars shall weep as they watch your obliteration. Fine dust, I shall make you. Spray your remains across the cosmos, watch as they burn into nothingness. You. You. You.” 

Up and down, his hair, his body, his mind.

Left and right, his bones, his organs, his mind.

Up. His arm.

Down, his hand.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

UP .

…

Bela watched, that’s all she could do. Her mind running miles per minute, her body in overdrive and yet, she just watched. 

Jasper’s body, once solid, now melted. A puddle on the floor, a hand reaching out. Skeletal and grabbing at the tunics of nearby angels. The angels burned where they were touched, yelping, stumbling back. 

Bodies burning still, the touch like acid, the skin being eaten away. The muscle exposed, the bone next, the limb gone in seconds. The body burning, flesh, the scent of it, carried over to her. 

The hand slammed on the ground, pulling a body free from the muck. Tall, jagged, skeletal. Shifting colors, a rainbow contained in darkness, an oil spill across water. 

Something sharp and bonelike protruding from the head of this form, dripping with red that turned into smoke as it fell. A horn, like a unicorn. Eyes, a set, a singular pair, red and rageful. 

The angels stumbled back from the creature, Jasper, and raised weapons shakily under the command of Zerithos. Jasper swept a hand out, their shadows came to life grabbing, grasping, yanking at their wings, at their clothes, hair and skin. 

The shadows yanked them down, pinned them like butterflies to be examined and studied. A hand swept out again, spells muttered, intricate circles of runes; forbidden runes. The circles spun, varying in size. POne behind him like a wall, the other beneath him on the floor. 

His speech distorted, Bela thanked herself for being able to hear thoughts. 

“Die for me.” 

The angels screamed as they burned, the spells incinerating them in shadow like fire. Butterflies pinned to boards. Dead bodies glorified on display. 

Bela walked forward, walked instead of running, maybe if she didn't run, maybe if she was a familiar face…

Jasper didn't notice her, his eyes focused on the other angels. Spell after spell. Ice, fire, wind, earth. Each element used. Each angel pinned by shadows. 

Dead bodies on display. 

Why…

Why had he?

How did he?

Was it…

Human influence or divine? Destined by The Fates? How did he?

Oh. 

That’s how.

Bela stood and stared, the angels around her nothing more than corpses. 

Ice then fire then wind then earth.

Corpses, dead, bodies pinned like butterflies.

Corpses.

Dead.

Bodies.

Pinned.

Butterflies.

Bela stood before the body now.

The body, no, Rowan. No, the body. No, Rowan. The- Rowan.

Rowan was alive.

His mind active, she sensed it.

Rowan was held in a circle, dark energy. Cursed energy. 

It was not made to be interfered with.

Bela lived to interfere. 

She reached forward, past the darkened and burned circle. Her hands burst into shadowy flames, skin burning away layer by layer. Bone showing and-

She grabbed Rowan and dragged him free. 

Her hands were raw, third degree burns, bone showing at her knuckles. They hurt badly. But if she healed them..

Would it be selfish to heal herself before her friends? Her mind told her it would be.

Bela elected to keep her injuries, she could fix herself later. It was better to make sure she didn't run out of stamina before she could heal everyone else. Keep them safe above herself. 

She had healed herself once, before others.

Carmen, Kate, Armand. 

Never again. 

And so she ignored the pain, pouring magic into her hands to give them strength as she dragged Rowan back from the land of bodies, back and back and back until they were hidden behind a fallen mound of stone and pillars. 

She channeled her magic, holding her hands overtop of the wound in Rowan’s gut. 

“Please heal, please heal, please heal.” 

Her words a chant of desperation under her breath, her face streaked with dirt and blood and tears. 

Tears?

Why was she crying?

No, now was not the time for questions.

As she gazed away from Rowan, keeping her eyes away from his pallid face, his sunken eyes, she took notice of Johnny approaching them. 

His eyes worried, his face distraught and guarded at the same time. Prepared, his outfit ruined with strips missing, likely used as makeshift bandages. 

Ian was behind him, approaching a raging Jasper who had taken out a wall with his magic as he obliterated two angles in a wave of shadowy fire. 

Ian shouted something, waving his hands over his head to gain Jasper’s attention. Bela could hear what he said, but in the moment Jasper saw the empty circle. Rowan was gone, in his eyes, for what could be a final time. 

Enraged he lashed out, sending Ian flying across the room. Slamming into a pillar with a terrible crunching sound. 

Johnny leaped up from where he was hidden, rushing toward Ian. 

“IAN!” 

His voice was full of emotion, fear, despair, and alarm. 

An angel, at the far end of the room, closer to Bela, turned at the sound of his call. His inky blood dripped down his arm as he yanked it free from a shadowed tendril. The angel rushed forward, desperation, fear maybe? Etched across his face. 

Bela watched.

Bela couldn't do anything else.

Just like that night.

She was useless once more. 

…

Johnny rushed forward, ducking between fallen debris, leaping over the bodies of angels and the bodies of the Guard. Fallen soldiers from opposite sides, dying on the same ground. The same way. 

Ian lay before him, against the pillar, unconscious. 

Johnny knelt at his side, shaking hands grabbing at his head and examining him. 

No bleeding, good, the hit just knocked him out then. Hopefully. 

He sighed and grabbed at his arm, trying to leverage his body up so he could move him to a safer, more hidden area. Where Johnny could make sure he wouldn't die. Where he wouldn't be able to leave Johnny, again. 

He was stopped by a hit from the side, it sent him stumbling back into the pillar, a sword pinning his sleeve to the marble, an arm blocking his other side. Johnny was trapped. 

An insect pinned for display. 

Wings, body, dead. Pinned and glorified for those to watch. 

He looked up, Seraph stood before him.

“You, you're supposed to be dead, you can't be here, how are you…”

Johnny felt his face contort, rage flooding his chest, he kicked the man infront of him yanking his sleeve out of its pinned state. Lunging at the dazed man. 

They fell, a punch here, and there, legs colliding. Blood spilling, skin bruising. 

A punch to the nose brought forth inky blood, a slice at the gut brought red. Fire swirled around Johnny, restoring him every time he was injured. Seraph didn't have this privilege, his body gaining a new hurt each moment of the fight. 

Teeth, a bite, yanking pulling at skin, blood flooding Johnny’s mouth. Staining his teeth. Feral behavior. A fight to survive. 

Teeth again, a bite, the soul leaving his body. 

The bite of a soul eater.

Shit.

Johnny screamed, grabbing at Seraph with weakening arms, yanking, pulling, shoving at the man. Seraph just latched on harder, his teeth drawing blood, it stained Johnny’s clothes. Tears welled in his eyes. 

His body hit the ground, Seraph looming over him, Ian behind him. Ian’s eyes on his, his eyes nearly black. His eyes wide and afraid, his eyes, his eyes, his eyes. 

Johnny felt his arms give out, they fell limply beside him as the strength was sapped from his body, his vision tunneled and fell into gray. 

It hurt. 

He just wanted it to stop.

Sounds of beating filled his ears, slow, ticking like a clock. 

Slow, slowing down, slow, slowing down. 

His heart. 

Slow, slowing, slow, slowing. 

…

When the body shuts down the first thing to go is the respiratory and digestive system. 

The person’s breathing slows, they no longer want to eat, etc. 

In the order of a shut down, it is as follows. 

Breathing stops: The person takes their last breath

Heart stops: The heart stops beating.

Brain stops: The brain stops functioning.

Other organs stop: The kidneys, liver, and other vital organs stop working.

Body systems shut down: All body systems powered by the organs stop working. 

—

There on that cold floor, an enemy feeding off of his soul.

Johnny Torres died. 

At least, his body died.

—

Ian. 

Ian didn't know what to do.

No. 

Scratch that.

He knew what to do.

Kill Seraph. 

He lunged forward, ripping the man away from Johnny’s prone form. Slamming him into the ground by his throat, no words were shared, just a look. One of hatred, disdain, and wrath. 

A rip, a tear, blood spilling from an open neck. Like a fountain the blood pooled, the light leaving the eyes of the hybrid. 

Ian stood from where he had sat on the man’s abdomen. The dead man now. His neck wide open, empty, arteries and veins split and weeping. 

He stumbled back, his hand at his head, panting breaths. 

Johnny.

Johnny.

Johnny.

Dead?

No, no, no. 

Not again.

Not again. 

Not again. 

Please.

Please.

Not again. 

Please.

Dead? 

Yes. 

No.

Yes. 

No.

I watched it. 

I didn't help. 

I failed.

Dead.

Again.

Dead.

Second chances mean nothing if you are just-

A    M O N S T E R

…

Bela caught sight of Ian, stumbling back, his face and hands coated in inky blood. 

She paused, her healing now complete, and raised her hands and her body. Prepared to go help, heal, protect. 

What was he thinking?

What had happened? 

What…

Johnny. 

I failed him, I failed, I failed, I failed. Again, it happened again, different now but again. Died, dead he always dies. Never lives. I can never save him. Never be quick enough, fast enough, good enough. Save him, I have to, maybe, no, no, no, I- 

Bela moved and then glanced at Rowan, she gazed back her mind warring with itself, If she left now he’d be vulnerable but if she didn't then..

If she didn't then Johnny…

He would die?

Was he already dead?

Dead?

No?

Armand, couldn't die no.

Armand?

Armand was dead?

No. wait- 

Armand. Carmen. Kate. Johnny. Rowan. Jasper. Ian. Thea. Vacantae. 

Safe, protect, safe, portcet. Keep them safe, please, please, I can do it. I can. I can. I can. 

Please.

Let me.

I don't-

I can't-

Don't let me fail again. 

…

Bela teleported to Johnny, his body laid out of the ground, limp and prone. His clothing torn and bloodied, his body healed but still seemingly dead. His mind, gone. Not active, his soul though…

He could just, come back, right?

Please.

Please.

Don’t leave me. 

She grabbed him, she moved to grab Ian too, to comfort or console she didn't know, but he- melted? 

His body turned into smoke, shadows, pooling beneath her feet like water. Ian was gone, not a teleport, no. This was something else. Something more. 

Her intuition told her to leave.

She grabbed Johnny and teleported back to Rowan. 

Propping his body against the debris into a sitting position, she held a hand over his heart. Sparks between her fingers, she shocked him, his heart did not start. She did it again, and again, and then, it started. 

Beating slowly, faint and thin, thready even. 

But there nonetheless. 

She noticed, in the corner of her eye, a shadow forming. Moving. Ian?

No.

A circle, a void. 

She moved from Johnny and hovered over the circle, a hand reaching out. Hesitantly she touched it, and something burst from within the void. Reaching toward the sky, a clawed hand. The hand waved around, growing into an arm with no shoulder or body to connect to. 

The hand reached toward Rowan, who laid out nearby. She turned around to stop it and noticed other puddles, portals maybe? Of the hands surrounding Johnny’s body. 

A crowd of them pulled at his clothes, his hair, yanked and clawed their way to his chest. His soul. Bela swatted them away, the smoke and tar creations. 

The hands grabbed at her, she could sense the rage behind their movements, the mind they connected to. 

“Ian?”

The hands paused and then let her go, she wanted to hope it was because he recognized her, but she knew it was because she had no soul to offer. 

They returned to grabbing at the men lying near her, she raced back and forth pulling them closer to her, hiding them behind her. A soulless shield to keep them safe. 

She could hear the sounds of other portals opening nearby, people screaming, clawing at surfaces as they were dragged into their grasp. The sounds of souls being grabbed, ripped away, extracted, from lower angels. 

In the deepest corners of her heart, she felt rather sorry for them. 

More portals opened around her, reaching for Johnny who she sat herself in front of. She prepared herself to fight them off. But as they reached toward her, they paused, and a large ripping roaring sound echoed through the room. Pillars shook and fell, Bela covered her ears at the sound. 

Screaming, screaming, screaming. Soul after soul crying in agony. Pain, despair, hurt. 

The roar stopped, her ears still rang with the aftermath, the room shook with the echo of it. The hands, once strong and determined, collapsed now, withered and dying. 

They crawled back from where they had come, dissipating into smoke, curling into the air. The smoke, thick and almost fur like, spun in the air far above Bela. 

The sphere grew, limbs poking through as it settled itself atop the ground, mere feet away from the trio. 

Human and then animal. 

Bones breaking, screams, crying. 

Bela could hear it all, his thoughts, his agony, his pain. She shared it. She forced her body not to move, to stay as still as possible. 

A hand, and then twelve arms, an eye and then six. A snout, horns, ears, smokey fur. 

Twenty seconds.

A soul eater stood before her. 

Ian. 

But it wasn't him, because his thoughts were not in charge. She could feel it, sense it, hear it. 

For a moment, there was stillness, for a moment there was quiet. And then, it stepped forward, toward Bela, who had not moved or breathed or blinked in minutes. 

It stepped forward again, Bela would have prayed, had she not known it wouldn't have mattered. 

Another step, she could hear him crying inside his mind. Screaming, mourning, apologizing. 

She did not move, but she did speak.

For if she would die, at the hands of a friend. She wanted him to know.

“I forgive you.” 

…

A large crack echoed through the room, Ian’s head turned and he moved, shadowed and smoking toward the sound. 

Bela paused, and took a large breath before turning around and grabbing at Johnny’s pale body. 

She held burned fingers at his neck, and realized rather belatedly, that the feeling in her hands had been burned away by the spell. She would have to heal herself to check his pulse. 

With a sigh, she watches as skin regrew, muscle forming and healing, bones hidden now. Feeling returned to her fingers. She placed them back at the pulse point and sighed in relief on there being a stronger heartbeat. 

He was longer near the deep end.

He would live.

A groan nearby, Rowan was stirring. Bela whirled to him, crawling the small distance over to help him up as he began to try and sit. 

“Ugh.” 

No words after this, Bela sat by his side and rubbed his back as he blinked rapidly, trying to clear spotty vision. 

His mouth opened after a small moment, his head turning to hers. 

“Where’s Jas-” 

A booming voice echoed through the room. Serpent tongue and all as it spoke in a language long lost and only its own. 

Bela could at least, and for once she didn't know to feel thankful or not, understand the speech that was given. 

“◟ᛁ╮ᛁŊᛁ ᛁ ╵ᚽ⸝⸌⸌ ˎި⸍⸝ᛁ⸜ ᛁ⸍ ᛁ ╮ᛁ⸌⸌ ╮⸝⸍ᛍᚽ ⸝╵ וᛁ ᛁ⸝◟ו ◟╮⸜╵ ╮ᛁו ᛁˎ╮◟× ި⸌ˎˎ⸍× ᛁ ╮ᛁ⸌⸌ ᛍ⸝╮╵ᛁ ˎᛍ⸝⸜╵ ⸍ˎ ⸍◟ᛁ⠃ި⸌ᛁ ⸝⸜⸍ ᛍ╮⸝ᛍᛁ× ᛁ ╮ᛁ⸌⸌ ᛍ⸝╮╵ᛁ וᛁ ⸍ᛁ╵⸍◟╮ᛍ⸍Ö⸜ ˎᛙ ⠃⸝⸜ᛁ× ˎᛙ ⸝⸌⸌× ⸝⸜⸍ ˎᛙ ᛁˎ╮× ᛁ ╮ᛁ⸌⸌ ╮⸝⸍ᛍᚽ ╮ᛁו ᛍ◟ˎ╮ᛁŊ ᚽ⸝⸍◟ᛁ⸍ ⸝╵ ᛁˎ╮ ⸍ᛁ╵╵ᛁި⸝⸍ᛁ ⸝⸜⸍ וᛁ⸜ ˎ⸜ᛍᛁ ᛁ ᚽ⸝╮ᛁ ╮⸝⸍ᛍᚽᛁ⸍ ᛁˎ╮◟ ި⸌ˎˎ⸍ ◟╮⸜ ⸍◟ᛁ ᛁ ╮ᛁ⸌⸌ ᛙᛁ⸜⸍ ᛁˎ╮ ⸝ᛍ⸝ᛁ⸜ ⸝⸜⸍ ި◟ᛁŊ ᛁˎ╮ ި⸝ᛍᛍ× ᛁˎ╮ ╮ᛁ⸌⸌ ⸜ᛁ╮ᛁ◟ ᛁ╵ᛍ⸝ިᛁ ⠃ᛁ ◟⸝ᛍᛁ× ⠃ᛁ ި⸝ᛁ⸜× ⸝⸜⸍ ⠃ᛁ ╮ᛁŊ⸝⸜ᛍᛁ× ◟ᛁ╮ᛁ◟╵ ╵ᚽ⸝⸌⸌ ◟╮⸜ ᛍˎ⸌⸍× ⠃ˎ╮⸜⸍⸝ᛁ⸜╵ ╵ᚽ⸝⸌⸌ ᛍ◟╮⠃ި⸌ᛁ× ⸝⸜⸍ ╵⸍ᛁ⸌⸌ ᛁ ╮ᛁ⸌⸌ ᛙᛁ⸜⸍ ᛁˎ╮× ╵⸝◟ᛍᚽ ᛙˎ◟ ᛁˎ╮× ᛍᛁ⸌⸌ ᛁˎ╮× ᛁ⸜ וᛁ ᛁ⸜⸍ ᛁ⸍ ╵ᚽ⸝⸌⸌ ިᛁ ˎ⸜⸌ᛁ ⠃ᛁ ⸝⸜⸍ ᛁˎ╮× ⸝⸜⸍ ᛁ⸜ וᛁ ᛁ⸜⸍ ᛁ ╵ᚽ⸝⸌⸌ ╮⸝⸍ᛍᚽ ╮ᛁו ᛁˎᛁ ⸝╵ ᛁˎ╮◟ ᚽ⸝◟⸍ ╵⸍ˎި╵ ᛁ⸍╵ ⠃ᛁ◟◟ᛁ ި⸝⸍×”

“Wha-”

Rowan was cut off by the sound of crash, more stone falling, a groan and a scream. 

Fighting.

Between who?

Most of the angels lay dead or destroyed. 

There were hardly any left for such sounds so then…

Jasper.

Ian.

Bela peeked over the stone and caught sight of them fighting. A snake tail originating from a shadowed form, a star bleeding from its chest. The tail coiled around Ian, slashed at by his arms and gnashed at by his teeth. Portals from every direction shot at Ian, but they couldn't touch him as he turned to smoke and lunged at Jasper from behind. 

Bela sat back down, her mind warring, did she go help? Did she stop them? Could she stop them? In her other form, she could. But in this…

She didn't know.

It was the hunting dogs all over again.

Searching for her, tearing, ripping through flesh.

The dogs.

Those damned dogs. 

A crash behind her, she whirled around, arms outstretched to fight off any threats against the trio. 

A man behind her, the man from earlier.

Grace was it? 

He held a sword, bloodied with-

Rowan’s blood.

Had he stabbed Rowan, was he the reason Jasper had gone off the deep end?

Sparks surged up her arm, electricity crackling in the silence between them. 

“Give him up.”

The man spoke solemnly, resigned even, as though he did not want to do what he had done. 

Bela glared.

Give him up? Who? Even then, why? 

She would sooner be dying by his blade before giving either of her friends up. 

She straightened up, ignoring the pain of her still punctured arm. It dripped blood, starry and glittering, onto the floor beneath her. 

“No.” 

Grace hummed in response, leveled a sword at Bela and looked at her as though he was already mourning her. 

“Then I am sorry for what I shall do to you.” 

Bela’s expression, blank, empty, void. Her words the same, no humanity, no empathy, nothing. 

“I’m not.” 

Chapter 52: fifty two

Chapter by Honeydrrop

The battlefield rumbled, Grace moved back as Bela lunged forward. 

She summoned forth a sword, blue and made of what at first glance seemed like glass, in truth made from planes of reality itself and therefore very durable. 

She moved in a circle around him, he followed in the opposite direction. 

Yin and Yang.

“Can you sense my energy?” 

Bela was curious, she knew he was not like other angels, after all, he was able to fly. 

Grace tilted his head and then nodded. 

Bela smiled, all teeth. 

“Then you know you will lose.”

A clash of swords followed, gold against blue. Sparks flying, illuminated by the light of a newly formed starburst, the duo parried and struck. 

Swords clashing, feet moving, a choreographed dance. Rowan watched and moved to wake Johnny, his tail coiled around the other man as he held him behind him. Shielding him with his body as best he could in case Bela had bitten off more than she could chew. 

A slash, a parry, a slash, a parry, a clashing of swords. Metallic music, two conductors of their own little song. 

Grace, covered in blood and injuries, far more than Bela, knew he would lose soon. It was why he had gone here, if only so that once he was down she could focus on Zerithos. I fondly so that once he was killed he could join her. 

Rose.

His love.

He longed, wanted, yearned to be with her.

But Death had not picked him yet.

And so, he would force Death to pick him now.

A slash, a parry, a misstep. A sword at a throat. Grace before Bela, his own sword scattered across the ground, red blood drawn by her blue blade. 

Bela smiled, winked at the man before her, and commanded him. 

“Sleep.” 

Grace fell like a puppet with cut strings. She caught him as he fell with her magic and with careful words muttered binding spells over his form. 

She had heard his thoughts.

She knew them well, for they were often her own. 

And so she caught him, and vowed to help, for she had done similar acts like his. And sometimes she had done worse. And still, they, her friends, her lovers, did not give up on her.

So she would not give up on another either. 

…

Bela moved Grace over to where Rowan and Johnny lay, propping him against the wall and binding his hands together with chords of reality made of string. blue and glowing. 

Rowan grabbed at her arm as she pulled away, looking toward the commotion behind the debris that was scattered around them. 

“Bela, you're bleeding.” 

Bela glanced down at her arm, now coated in blood and sighed, waving a hand to heal it. The blood vanished, the holes closing up and becoming unblemished skin right before her eyes. It was as though the wound was never there and had never happened. 

She showed the arm to Rowan, a smile on her face.

“All better, don't worry about me.” 

Rowan frowned at her words. 

“Of course I’m gonna worry about you. You're my friend.” 

Bela paused, and blinked rapidly, looking away from him and taking her arm back. And before anyone asks, no she was not crying. 

She moved to check on Johnny but found herself distracted by a call of her name. 

“Bela!” 

Vacantae’s voice. Bela stood and moved away from the hiding spot she had chosen. Looking for her wife. Vacantae appeared no more than twenty feet before her, rushing forward, alone. Thea stood somewhere, Bela could sense her, but she didn't know where she was. 

Vacanate moved closer, her clothing ruined and bloodied with both her own, now human, blood and the angels. Her spear was broken, useless now. And her hair was loose. And yet, in Bela’s eyes she had never looked more beautiful.

Bela stepped forward, her heels clicking against the floor before she broke into a steady sprint toward her wife. 

In the distance there was a sound. A swift movement, wings folding, slicing through the air. And the scent of light, pure light, bright and ozone scented. 

A movement, quick and unexpected for either woman. And suddenly, Vacantae was gone. 

Quite literally gone, vaporized one may say. The human body cannot survive temperatures past 3000 degrees fahrenheit. Zerithos’ attack was near 10000 degrees fahrenheit. 

Vacanate however, was not ordinary human, an immortal human. One that could rebuild, regenerate, live once more. And still, Bela, The Fabric, The Universe, did not take the sight all that well.

…

Bela stood. And then fell. Maybe? She couldn't tell. 

She focused instead on the remains.

Whose remains were they?

She couldn't remember. 

The face, the name, blurred and ruined like ink spilled. 

Zerithos stepped close to her, he knelt down before her. 

“Child.” 

Bela did not look at him, there were tears dripping down her face. 

“You fought well.” 

Bela said nothing, there was something breaking in her core. What was it?

“She had to die however, I know not of her relation to you, but she was an enemy. A liability. She held within her a soul of nothingness. A Void.” 

Bela hummed and looked at him, he seemed to smile at this. Not warmly, coldly, like ice down her spine. 

She heard movement behind her, a bomb was thrown, it set off sparklers at Zerithos’ face. 

“Leave her alone! Get away from her!” 

Zerithos huffed and waved the sparks away with his hand, then he picked up the bomb and crushed it in his grasp. Turning it to dust. 

Dust.

Remains.

Void.

Dead.

Bela smiled, wide and unabashed. 

Zerithos looked at her, and offered a hand. She grabbed it, and felt his bones bend and break under her grasp as she dragged him closer.

“The Universe hates you.” 

…

The room went dark. 

Not really of course.

Only for him. 

The room went dark and cold. Void of life of light of energy. 

Nothing to control, nothing to manipulate, nothing to do. 

Trapped in his mind, Zerithos would die soon. 

…

Bela stood, let go of the now limp hand and studied the frozen form before her. The sound of fighting echoed in the distance, the angels were dead, all but Grace. The Guard was dead too. 

Thea was nearby, Running forward. 

Rowan was nearby, approaching. 

“Bela?” 

Bela cocked her head, swung a leg behind her and spun around. 

Rowan looked at her, brow furrowing, face hesitant and cautious. 

“Are you okay?” 

Bela looked at him with wide eyes, searching, grasping, looking for an anchor.

She did not find it.

“This form is not enough.”

Rowan stepped closer, a hand between them, cautious. 

Bela leaped back, landing on the tips of her toes like a dancer. She was beside the frozen man now, she leaned sideways. Her body made no sound as she shifted into a pose of which only someone without a spine could reach. 

“This form is breaking.” 

“You can-”

“No, no, no.”

“This form will break, I must break free of it.” 

“Break free of what?!” 

“Humanity.” 

Hands, many, hundreds, thousands maybe, bloomed behind her figure like a flower. 

Grabbing, clutching, yanking at her body. 

The hands, white with darkened fingers, held onto her body. Her arms, her legs, her torso, her face, her hands. 

They covered her mouth and her eyes. 

Blood pooled and ripped from underneath the hands, starry and glittering. 

Silence and then a loud crack.

The hands on her right arm yanked it back, twisting it as the bones broke beneath the grip. The left arm followed. The legs next, the torso, her spine, her neck and her head. Bones broken and crushed beneath unforgiving grips, blood dripping between the gaps of fingers. 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The hands over her mouth moved, joining those at her neck. 

Her mouth did not move, but words came forth nonetheless. 

They echoed over the area, stopping the fight, sending everyone kneeling and crashing to the ground. 

“Fall.” 

Silence again, a darkened room, a light snowfall, the moon blocked out the sun. An eclipse. 

“Vidul. Sunt Vidul de toate. Fără ea, cealaltă jumătate a mea, trebuie să îndeplinesc ambele sarcini. Pedepsitorul și călăul. Te voi găsi vinovat. Te voi ruina, te voi blestema, te voi omorî. Ceilalți. Cei care ajutaseră. Voi returna de zece ori ceea ce nu puteam înainte. Voi fi o mână călăuzitoare, un înger păzitor, o prezență constantă. Lipsa unui corp uman îmi oferă șansa de a remedia totul, de a vindeca și de a proteja, de a salva. Nu voi da greș de data asta. Nu mai, voi privi cum suferă cei pe care îi prețuiesc. Nu voi mai fi martor la căderea vieții sub cei care nu o merită. Nu mai mult. Cu aceste cuvinte, în acest moment, voi aboli acele legi vechi ale Universului. Apărând, vor fi făcute noi legi pentru a-i proteja pe cei dragi. Noi legi pentru a proteja ceea ce trebuie ținut sub cheie. Și vor veni cu un cost unic,” 

The Universe turned to gaze at the man behind it.

“Moartea ta.”

The room went dark. Void of light, life, energy. 

Snowfall stopped, time stopped, the moon held domain over the sun. 

The room lit up, under the light of will o’ the wisps. Blue and purple at the edges, scattered throughout the ruined dining hall. The battlefield. 

A figure, something, behind Zerithos’ prone form. 

A large creature. At most a few thousand feet tall, it laid itself curled across the ground behind him. Its arms crossed in front of it like a cat may do with its paws. Its legs curled close and tucked into its abdomen. 

It's face. Faces. Three. Leered behind Zerithos, and gazed down at the man with contempt. 

The Universe, The Fabric, Gaia, The Everything, The Creation. 

Three faces. The first, the main one, a porcelain white with a gold upper half. Melded together with swirling designs. The second, on the right, gold plated with a frown and dripping with pearlescent tears. The third, on the left, gold plated as well, a furrowed brow and angry pure white eyes. 

The faces were framed with plum colored hair, flowing like a waterfall, pooling across the floor in waves and crashing foamy ends. Branched horns sprouted from the second and third head, swirling and dipping down in sharp edges. Lower still the body was porcelain white, decorated with six arms, each one bearing a band of gold that signaled the number that hand held.  

Branches, dotted with belladonna flowers, covered the chest of the creature. 

The legs of the creature transformed from porcelain thighs to branches, sharp and swirling as they pointed into tips where feet should have been. Much like a tree, these too bloomed with flowers. Deadly nightshade, hemlock, belladonnas. 

Behind the creature lay wooden branching wings, bone like in structure, blooming with flowers, dotted with butterflies from across the cosmos. And behind that lay a ring of gold, pointed at the edges like a cursive ‘I’ and decorated with eyes of pure white pearls. 

The Universe, The Fabric, Gaia, The Everything, The Creation. 

…

This was too much. Too alien. Too unnatural.

Rowan’s mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the horror unfolding before him. His body felt heavy, weighted by disbelief and fear.

He had seen things—terrible things—before. He had seen Jasper lose himself, swallowed by something vast and unknowable, transforming into a dark amalgamation of stars and Ian’s new smoky look. That alone had been enough to haunt him. But this?

Seeing Bela like this—ripped apart from the inside out, her humanity unraveling in a way that defied every law of nature—left him numb.

His heart pounded erratically, but his mind refused to keep up. The sheer enormity of it paralyzed him. How could anyone remain sane when faced with such horrors?

Rowan stood frozen, breath shallow, his lips parted but no words forming. There were none. All he could do was watch—helpless—as the woman before him broke.

He winced, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would somehow block out the nightmarish sight before him. His mind struggled, still trying to grasp the horrors unfolding, though deep down, Rowan knew— there’s no getting used to this. No one could ever become numb to something so grotesque, so far removed from reason or reality.

His pulse throbbed in his ears, racing and irregular, as if his body was fighting something just beneath his skin. He felt a strange, unsettling pressure building inside him— pulsing, twisting, writhing —like something that didn’t belong was trying to force its way to the surface. His breath hitched, and he staggered, clutching at his chest, but the feeling only grew stronger, more insistent, demanding release.

Then, it came.

"em… esaeleR..."

Rowan’s heart dropped. This voice—this presence —was unfamiliar, and that terrified him. It wasn’t his voice. It didn’t belong to him. Or at least… it shouldn’t.

His hands clenched involuntarily, fingernails biting into his palms. Panic clawed at him, but there was no time to process it, no time for revelations or careful thoughts. Everything was happening too fast, slipping out of his control like sand through his fingers. 

He needed to save everyone…but it felt useless seeing Bela in front of him like this.

-

Thea wasn't one to panic.

Seeing her wife like this after watching the other be incinerated of course, made her panic.

Maybe more than panic.

Fear, terrible, all consuming.

Not toward what her wife had become.

But toward what it could do to her.

What would happen to her.

She fought past her fear, her panic, her despair. The flashes, the images, of the beheading. She fought past them as she stood, one leg crouched the other following. One leg straightening, the other following. A step, loud and echoing in the deadly silent room. 

The large head spun like a merry go round, until the first face settled on her. 

Seeing who had moved, the faces spun back to their prey, seemingly not bothered by Thea being able to resist their demands and power. 

Perhaps it was the fact that no matter what, Bela could never hurt Thea. 

Perhaps it was Love that granted Thea this ability to move.

Perhaps. 

Thea gritted her teeth, and took another step. She caught sight of others nearby. The ashes of Vacantae glowing, reforming, slowly, but surely. Rowan knelt and clutching at his arms in panic, his face pointing toward the cracked and bloodied floor.

A dismembered arm was near him. 

Ian, stuck lying down, his form shuddering and shaking as it tried to reform and move. It wasn't working despite the darkness of the room, despite the plentiful shadows. 

Jasper, his tail flickering as portals opened and closed within seconds, too unstable to stay open for him to grab at The Universe. 

Thea, herself taking painful step after step toward Bela. She knew what she was really seeing, The Universe, but she refused to regard her as such. Bela, she would always be Bela in her mind. Humanity be damned, she was Bela. 

Her wife.

Hers. 

Step again, another step. 

Thea had lost her sword in the battle, it remained buried under the corpses of angels. She would have to dig to find it, but that would take precious time that she could use reaching toward Bela. 

Step.

Thea was covered in blood, her injuries long gone and healed by her healing factor. 

Step.

Her crown was missing, her dress ruined, her hair a mess, chopped messily and ruined.

Step.

Thea stood before Zerithos. 

Bela was behind him, gazing at Thea now.

No longer leering at her prey, her full attention on the woman before her. Thea hoped she remembered who she was. No, scratch that. Thea knew she would remember who she was. 

Bela had explained it once, the impact of their love. 

The impact it had on The Universe as a whole. 

“I had one other half, now I have two. A puzzle, you have made me, with you as the final piece. I find myself searching for you everywhere, in everything. Even when you had died at first, I had never truly forgotten you. The heart never forgets like the brain does. 

I found myself searching for you.

In every universe I found.

I would find you, even after Death had touched you, in every incarnation. I would find you, should you change into something unrecognizable. Because the heart never forgets. 

My heart, your home. I will find you everywhere, I will know you everywhere.

I would know you blind, deaf, voiceless. I would know you.”

Thea stood before Bela.

Maybe she was weeping.

She didn't know, she didn't care to know. 

Thea spoke. 

“Bela.” 

The heads spun, the third head faced her now. Anger, fear, shock. The negative sides of her, the hateful sides of her. An attempt to hide. Thea saw through it. 

“Bela.” 

The second head then. Branches blooming again, belladonnas falling to the floor like cherry blossom petals. The new ones, forget-me-nots. Thea knew she had her then.

“Bela, look at me.”

The first head, crying pearlescent tears. 

“Bela, it’s okay now. We're safe, you can let go, you can come back.” 

No.

“Why not?”

I have to keep everyone safe. I can't lose anyone again.

“You won't.”

I will, I can see it now. I will return to a human cage, a gilded cage, and watch as you all are slaughtered.

“Bela, I cannot promise that I won’t ever die again. But I can promise you this, I will find you once more even after Death has touched me. I will never leave you as others have.” 

Perhaps you won’t, but I still cannot return, I must deal with him.

Thea turned to look at Zerithos, the man kneeled before her. Thea knew, from just one glance, that he was being tortured inside of his mind. That Bela was inflicting upon him the pain he inflicted upon others. 

She turned back to Bela, curious. 

“What are you doing to him?” 

A hum, resounding, echoing, a laugh, like stars glittering. 

I am showing him his worst fears. Adam on the throne, the other universe, Lionas, the child. Lucas ruling, living, thriving. I am showing him it all. He is rather unhappy, threatening me from within his confines. He shall die watching what he hates most. 

“If that is the case, kill him now, my love, come back to me.”

Bela paused, considered her words. And then a hand moved, a large one from her many hands. It reached down, plucking Zerithos up by his wings. Ripping, tearing was heard as they began to detach from his back. 

No need to fly.

The wings were gone now, the body on the floor. 

They would regenerate, had The Universe not planned for that accordingly. 

She grabbed him again, one hand holding his body down, the other grabbing at his head with two fingers. A slight tension, a pull. The head was gone now, detached like a childs toy. The wings would not regenerate. He would not live, torture others anymore. He was gone. 

Still The Universe was not satisfied. 

Soon an arm was gone, the other remained. 

A leg was gone, then the torso was torn in half. 

A broken body, a broken doll. 

Zerithos died, trapped within his own mind, seeing what he hated most come to fruition. 

…

Thea felt the air of the room lessen, Ian and Jasper rising in the background. But there was an aura of peace in the room, a manipulation of emotions. Both Ian and Jasper were calmed now. 

They stalked forward together, moving closer to where Thea stood. She watched as Ian moved to find Johnny hidden behind the debris. Jasper curled around a shaking Rowan. 

She looked back at Bela, the woman, despite her ethereal status, seemed tired. 

Thea sighed, stepped forward and watched as the snowfall began again. Time was moving once more. 

“Αγάπη μου, έλα πίσω. Επιτρέψτε με να σας προστατεύσω όπως προστατεύσατε όλους σήμερα. Άσε με να σε βοηθήσω όπως βοήθησες κι εσύ άλλους. Άσε με να σε κρατήσω τώρα, στο μετά και άσε με να σε φιλήσω. Σε λαχταρώ, ξέρω ότι με λαχταράς και εσύ. Γύρνα πίσω σε μένα, γίνε πάλι δικός μου.”

Bela leaned down as best she could, her chin resting on the bloodied floor. A lip pressed to Thea’s forehead. 

Silly woman, I am always yours.

…

Auroras of colors invaded the room, winding through the winds like watercolor. Lighting up the room beyond belief. Starlight shimmering in the air, an ethereal sight. 

Jasper’s form shrunk under the weight of the wind, curling in on itself as he lowered to the ground to lay curled around Rowan. Rowan yawned, blinked and slumped over, now asleep. 

Jasper’s form continued to shrink and melt until all that remained was the man, back in his pristine dinner wear. 

The debris vanished, suddenly back where they had been before the attack. The bodies transported themselves away, life returning to them. The Guard woke back up at a now fixed table, reaching for swords to fight enemies that were not there. 

The sparkling aurora swept past them leaving them tired and falling into the grasp of slumber, the memories of the fight turning dreamlike. Easing the trauma. 

Angels awoke in Heaven, finding themselves whole and untouched. For them they would never remember the fight, they would live in ignorance. The Universe thought of it as a mercy. To live without knowing, was far better than to ever know at all, for knowledge brought pain, especially when it was knowledge of things that happened without your control. 

Zerithos remained dead of course, his body no more, the memory of him would fade soon, overpowered by the memory of Love. 

The dining room, now whole and pristine. Was decorated with sleeping bodies. 

Ian slept near Johnny, a foot of distance between them, hands reaching toward the other. 

Jasper curled around Rowan. 

Vacantae, lying nearby, curled near the crossed hands of The Universe.

Thea remained awake and standing, gazing at The Universe who remained lying in front of her. 

“I will catch you as you fall, my love.” 

Beal smiled at her, all three heads spinning to gaze at her once more. Roses blooming across the branched body. Butterflies flying from her wings and filling the room. 

I know.

The room shifted, The Universe gone. Bela, in all her ruined and bloodied glory, lay within the careful cradle of Thea’s arms. 

Thea sighed, it came out shaky and laced with unshed tears. 

And then she raced from the room, toward the medical wing. 

Leaving behind a room of sleeping occupants, each one decorated with jeweled and crystalized butterflies. Flowers cushioning the floor beneath them, roses, belladonnas, lavender. Vines curled around the pillars, bloomed where there had been cracks in the floor. 

A seemingly paradise of a room. 

The aftermath of a War. 

—

-

 

The rhythmic crashing of ocean waves filled the air as Cirro reclined on a yellow-and-white striped lawn chair, comfortably sunk into the warm sand. He exhaled a contented sigh, basking in the sun’s gentle warmth on his skin. Ever since Bela had transformed their familiar white void into a beachscape, Cirro had been skeptical of the change. It was strange, unnatural at first—but it didn’t take long for him to settle into the novelty. In fact, very soon, he found himself more than enjoying it, especially with Elias nearby, busy mixing one of his latest coconut concoctions.

Cirro's gaze lingered on Elias, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile. Watching Elias move with such ease—his shoulder-length hair swaying with every turn, that black open Hawaiian shirt draping loosely over his toned frame, and matching black trunks clinging to his form—was distracting. Dangerously so. Something about the way Elias looked made Cirro's stomach flip in ways he didn’t care to admit. And that damn swishing tail didn’t help. It flicked rhythmically behind Elias as he focused on pouring the freshly-mixed drink into a hollowed coconut, oblivious to Cirro’s not-so-subtle ogling.

“Is a certain someone going to stop staring at me, or...?” Elias teased, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shot a knowing glance over his shoulder.

Caught red-handed, Cirro’s cheeks flushed a deep gold. He quickly diverted his gaze, fixing his eyes on the unnaturally vibrant ocean stretching endlessly before them, hoping to escape the teasing. “I wasn’t staring,” he muttered, but the heat in his face betrayed him.

Elias chuckled as he plopped down beside Cirro, coconut drink in hand. With an amused glint in his eye, he handed one over. Cirro accepted it without a word, trying to calm the flutter in his chest. Lifting the coconut to his lips, he took a sip—only to freeze mid-swallow, his eyes widening in shock as he glanced down at the liquid inside.

“What... what the hell ?”

There, swirling within the amber liquid, was a disturbing vision. A dark figure with a single red glowing eye was shrieking near a massive, smoke-covered beast—its hideous form dotted with countless golden eyes gleaming like cursed stars.

“Jasper?!!” Cirro spluttered, choking on his drink. He coughed violently, liquid spraying from his lips, and hunched over as Elias quickly leaned in to pat his back.

“Whoa, hey—what are you talking about?” Elias asked, concern creasing his brow. “Jasper’s not—"

He trailed off, lifting his own drink for a curious sip. The second the liquid touched his tongue, a vision showed up on the drink. This time, it showed Rowan—pale, gaunt, and lifeless—collapsed on the ground, looking like a ghost of himself.

“ Rowan?! ”

Elias spat his drink in shock, nearly choking as the horrifying sight burned in his mind. For a moment, he and Cirro stared at each other in silent disbelief. Then, as if on cue, they both erupted in panic.

“What the hell was that?!” Cirro yelped, gripping his coconut tighter.

“I don’t know?! We looked away for 5 minutes!” Elias shot back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Both men sat wide-eyed, catching their breath as the bizarre visions lingered in the back of their minds like a warning neither of them could fully understand. The strange brightness of the ocean suddenly felt eerie, and the playful ambiance of the beach faded into uneasy tension.

One thing was certain—this little beach getaway wasn’t as relaxing as they had hoped.

The last thing heard from the distance was Elias yelling

 

“Fuck!!”

-

Chapter 53: fifty three

Chapter by Honeydrrop

Rowan’s body felt heavy . 

What the fuck happened?

He tried to lift his head, but even that felt as though it was too much to achieve. He felt like his body weight had doubled or something.

Wait.

The fight.

Bela.

Johnny.

Jasper.

…repsaJ

Huh?

repsaJ repsaJ REPSAJ REPSAJ REPSAJ REPSAJ REP–

Rowan jolted, realizing he was in the lab?

Wait, no.

The medical wing. 

Jasper…where was Jasper?

He looked around, thankfully not needing to search for long for the man that was laying in the cot next to him.

He must’ve woken up first. There were a few others, like Ian, but Bela and Johnny weren’t here. 

Jasper looked so worn out. He imagined it wouldn’t be any different for him.

…….elaelp…eM….em esaeleR….

Okay, what the fuck.

Rowan grunted, sighing harshly. He heard Jasper stirring beside him, looking to find his face beginning to twist into a pained expression. It melted away when he put a gentle hand over his cheek.

ytterp…oS…

Did he hit his head? Lose his mushroom?

The fuck?

Jasper’s eyes fluttered open, those pretty eyes. He gave Rowan a warm smile, but it soon faded as he recalled the most recent events.

And he looked away. An expression of awareness, of worry. Something else Rowan couldn’t seem to pinpoint, yet recognized all too well.

“Jas?”

“...I’m sorry, Row.”

“What do you mean? What for?”

A pause, one that tugged at Rowan’s heart. 

“Everything,” Jasper sighed. Rowan waited for him to elaborate further, like he always ended up doing, but found that the topic was dying quickly.

He got up from his cot, flopping onto Jasper. The other man couldn’t help but giggle.

“We should like, eat, or something. No sad stuff right now, okay?”

Jasper hummed. “You sure?”

“You’ve gotta be hungry, right? It’s been, what, hours?”

“Maybe a few…Three, maybe?”

“Yeah, so you should be starving!”

“Not everyone can hork down a five course meal and be hungry the next hour, Row.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing that it’s been more than an hour, then.”

Jasper playfully shook his head, nudging Rowan off of him so he could get up. “Okay, okay, smartass. Let’s go.”

They snuck their way out, careful not to knock anything over and startle anyone else who might’ve still been sleeping. In the room just next to theirs were Bela and Johnny, out cold.

“You think we should wake ‘em? Maybe they’d be hungry, too.”

“I think we should let them get the rest they need, Row.”

Rowan frowned, but he knew Jasper was right. This whole ordeal had taken a huge toll on everyone. He didn’t even know how bad it should have been on Bela, what with that insane transformation of hers. Not to mention the fact Johnny hadn’t been awake for the majority of the battle.

Which means he didn’t see Bela when she transformed.

Maybe it was better that way.

He could barely fathom the first time they’d interacted with the Fabric. But this, despite Johnny’s intelligence, would have probably left him in the same situation as Rowan back then.

Or worse.

—

Finally, an uninterrupted meal.

“They have pickles here, right?”

“I think they should.”

“Pickles aren’t, like, native to our world or something, right?”

Jasper furrowed his brow, shrugging after a moment. “I don’t see why they would be.”

“I need a pickle.”

“I know you do.”

“A fried pickle.”

“I know.”

“Maybe a stack of those babies.”

“Row.” Jasper chuckled. “You’re crazy sometimes.”

“What? Can’t a guy get his pickles around here?”

“Never say your pickles ever again.”

“My pickles. Pickle.”

“Please.”

“Pick. Le.”

“Row…”

“ Pick-klees .”

Jasper turned to Rowan, planting a hand on each shoulder.

“Sweetheart, darling, love of my life. Please . I will get you pickles to fry later, okay? We just ate.”

?gnilraD….gnilrad…

“Hey, uh, Jas?”

“Huh?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That weird…warbling? Or something?”

“No…?”

“Like, a voice? But not our language?”

“Row…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rowan felt his ears flick in irritation. Surely this was actually happening. Maybe Bela would know something?

“Can we go see Bela now?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Jasper hummed, wordlessly leading him back to the room where Bela and Johnny were still sleeping. Thea was hovering over Bela, with Ian mirroring the same worry over Johnny. They barely reacted when Rowan and Jasper entered the room.

“Uh…is everything okay?”

“Are they alive? ”

“Yes, Rowan,” Thea huffed in exasperation. “They’re both alive.”

“But why aren’t they awake?”

“They’ve fallen into comas.” Ian’s ears drooped at Thea’s words.

Comas?

For how long?

They would make it out, right?

Out.

…tuo….em…tel…

That damn voice.

…tuo….

It was getting

…em….

Really

…tel…

Annoying.

—

A coma. A fucking coma.

Ian was distraught, to say the least. How could something so terrible have slipped past him?

Did he force him into a coma?

No.

No.

Maybe —

No.

The thoughts, he had to get rid of them somehow.

But his memory… it was so patchy. Like missing puzzle pieces. 

All the important pieces were missing. One moment he recalled Johnny, then the next he was above his body…

Then…

Blank.

He remembered snippets of sounds, of touch, but sight? It was like his mind was forbidding him from remembering everything the way he wanted to.

Maybe he did hurt Johnny.

No, no, why would  he?

Did he?

He was trying so hard not to actively crumble before the group, before the strong woman who’d befriended him what seemed like decades ago. Thea was strong, he wanted to be like her.

She made bravery look so effortless. So easy.

How?

The soft whirring of the medical equipment around them was nowhere near soothing. Ian occasionally glanced at Johnny’s vitals. They were stable, but his heart would spike every so often.

He didn’t seem to notice that it only ever happened if he left Johnny’s side.

He was terrified to even do so much as make contact with Johnny. What if he lost it again? 

He was dangerous. Everyone knew it now. There was no hiding it, no skirting around the issue, nothing.

Only a matter of time before he was outcasted once again. Maybe Thea was waiting till everyone healed to send him away. Ban him from the kingdom, send him to the dungeons, execute him, something. Maybe she’d send him far, make him suffer with that damned Trinity—

Wait.

Who was Trinity?

—

“Oh, mica mea stea!!!”

A woman's voice echoed urgently through the air as the heavy doors of the medical wing burst open with a resounding clang , revealing Bela’s parents—Alina and Mihai—followed closely by Tatiana, panting heavily from their sprint. Their faces, painted with panic and exhaustion, were a mixture of fear and heartbreak at what awaited them. Ian and Thea, standing near Bela’s bedside, froze as the trio stormed in, their footsteps heavy and hurried. Without hesitation, they rushed to Bela’s side, gasping at the sight of her fragile, altered form.

Alina knelt down beside her daughter, her trembling fingers brushing the wild strands of hair from Bela’s pale forehead. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she pressed her forehead gently against Bela’s, trying to sense the flow of her mana. Immediately, her breath hitched—Bela's mana was fractured, unstable, and dangerously depleted.

“ Ohhhhhh, nu ar fi trebuit să o lăsăm singură! Și acum... acum este așa?!” Alina whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of guilt. " Oh, nu-mi vine să cred că s-a întâmplat asta... Nu vreau să-mi pierd mica stea, Bela mea...” Her voice, barely above a whisper, was raw with grief as she stroked her daughter’s face, her tears falling onto Bela’s cheek like fragile rain.

Beside her, Mihai squatted down slowly, his face pale with anguish as he ran his large hand gently through Bela’s hair. His jaw clenched, trying and failing to conceal his frustration at himself. The quiet fury in his tone betrayed his regret.
“ Cum nu am putut vedea asta venind? ” he muttered bitterly, guilt burning in his chest. “ Le-aș fi rupt într-o singură felie dacă eram acolo... Dar n-am fost. Și acum, se simte atât de slăbită .” He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on Bela’s hand as if trying to pour his strength into her through touch alone.

Thea stepped forward, her hands clenching anxiously as she began recounting everything—how Bela had been ambushed by angels, the ruthless assault by Zerithos, and how Bela's form had changed in the middle of the chaos. With each detail, their parents’ eyes widened in disbelief, their breathing growing sharper, and they exchanged horrified glances as they processed the enormity of what had transpired.

Tatiana lingered behind her parents, quiet and watchful. Her sharp gaze flicked to Rowan, who was nervously fiddling with the tip of his tail. Sensing her stare, Rowan shifted uneasily, inching closer to Jasper, as if seeking shelter in his presence.

Meanwhile, Ian stood at Johnny’s bedside, his expression dark with guilt. His sharp eyes never left Johnny, scanning him constantly as if afraid he’d miss the slightest change. Despite the chaos around him, Ian’s mind was a whirl of regret—he couldn’t shake the weight of responsibility for Johnny’s injuries. The thought of ever leaving him like this, vulnerable and hurt, was unbearable.

Everyone in the room seemed to be moving at different emotional speeds—some panicking, others heartbroken, and a few lost in their own guilt. Rowan gave his tail another anxious flick, drawing a low hum of reassurance from Jasper, who gently touched Rowan’s back, grounding him with the unspoken promise of safety.

Tatiana stepped forward, her fingers gently wrapping around Bela’s hand. She looked drained—her eyes heavy with exhaustion, her usual fierceness dulled by worry. Her final form must have taken so much out of her... Tati thought, suppressing the urge to cause a scene. Still, her mind buzzed with dark possibilities. If she had been there, no one would have survived. No angel, no enemy. She clenched her jaw, pushing those thoughts down. Proud as she was of Bela for her strength, her protective instincts roared to life. Her sharp eyes scanned Bela’s body, checking for any signs of external wounds, refusing to miss a single detail.

Rowan stood nearby, fidgeting anxiously with the tip of his tail. His gaze flicked to Bela, and then he spotted it—a big puncture wound on her left arm. The sight made his heart clench. He knew he could heal it, but the real question was: Was it worth the risk of setting Tatiana off? She was fiercely protective of Bela—prone to snap at anyone who dared intervene. Still, Rowan felt a deep sense of obligation. Bela had saved him before, and he owed her for that. It’s worth a try...

He took a step closer, inching toward Tatiana. She noticed him immediately, her sharp green eyes narrowing.

“What do you need, Rowan Cleaver?” she asked flatly, her voice carrying the weight of a warning.

Rowan gave her an exaggerated wince. “Ouch. First of all, it’s Rowan Nova now,” he corrected, throwing a playful wink in Jasper’s direction. Jasper smirked but said nothing. Rowan turned back to Tatiana, his tone softening.

 “Look, I know how much you care about her—probably more than anyone. But… if you let me, I think I can heal her. Physically, at least.” 

His voice trailed off uncertainly, watching Tatiana’s expression shift as if she were looking straight into his soul.

She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, weighing his words—and perhaps his very intentions. Silence hung in the air, thick and unyielding. Then, at last, she gave a curt nod.

“Okay... go ahead,” she whispered reluctantly. “But if anything else happens to her—”

“Yes, yes, I get it,” Rowan interrupted with a nervous laugh, raising his hands in surrender. “She’s my friend too, you know.”

Tatiana didn’t respond but continued to scrutinize him, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

Rowan exhaled slowly, his nerves settling as he circled around to the other side of the cot. He knelt beside Bela, carefully cradling her injured arm. The puncture wound was deeper than he thought, and fresh blood threatened to spill over. Gritting his teeth, he held her arm as gently as possible, mindful not to make the bleeding worse.

From beneath his sweater, a slender green vine slithered out, curling around the wound like a delicate serpent. The vine tightened slightly, forming a gentle tourniquet, as Rowan shut his eyes and focused his magic. A soft yellow glow radiated from his hands, the light weaving its way through the vine, flowing into Bela’s skin.

Tatiana leaned in, watching closely, her breath shallow with anticipation. Her sharp gaze didn’t miss a single detail as the wound slowly knitted together, blood reversing its course and retreating back into the vein. The raw, angry edges of the puncture began to heal, the skin smoothing and regaining its natural color.

Rowan held his breath until the glow faded, leaving Bela’s arm fully restored, as if the injury had never existed. He released her arm carefully, feeling the magic settle back into his own body.

Tatiana’s expression remained unreadable, but the slightest flicker of relief passed over her features. She gave Rowan a slow, approving nod, though her gaze remained as sharp as ever.

“Thank you,” she muttered, though there was a note of lingering warning in her tone.

Rowan gave a small nod, but the room tilted unexpectedly, a wave of dizziness washing over him. His legs faltered beneath him, and before he could hit the ground, Jasper appeared in an instant, teleporting to his side just in time to catch him. Rowan slumped against Jasper, his heart pounding in his chest as the lingering effects of his magic took their toll.

“What did I tell you about using that ability too much?” Jasper muttered, his voice tight with concern. His arms stayed firmly around Rowan, steadying him. 

“You could’ve—” Jasper faltered, his words catching in his throat. For a moment, the weight of what he almost said hung between them, heavy and unspoken. He gave a slight shake of his head, as if trying to physically push the thought away, unwilling to voice the fear aloud.

Without another word, Jasper eased Rowan toward a chair tucked into the corner of the room. His hands lingered just a moment longer than necessary, making sure Rowan was steady before he sat down beside him.

Rowan glanced up at Jasper, his vision clearing, but something in Jasper’s demeanor made his chest tighten. Jasper’s jaw was clenched, his expression distant, like a wall had gone up between them. He sat stiffly beside Rowan, his hands resting on his knees, refusing to meet his gaze.

Rowan shifted slightly in his seat, the silence between them loud and suffocating. He could feel the tension rolling off Jasper—an undercurrent of worry masked by a hardened expression, as if trying to keep his emotions in check. Is he mad? Or scared? Rowan wasn’t sure.

The trio gathered around Bela’s motionless body, their hands slowly finding familiar places as if guided by instinct. Mihai placed his broad hand over her arm, his expression a mixture of determination and sorrow.

“ Trebuie să-i salvăm mana dacă vrem să se trezească... ” he said quietly, his voice heavy with responsibility. His fingers pressed firmly against her skin as if willing his strength into her fragile form.

“ Putem face asta, pentru bela noastră ” Alina whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. She gently laid her palm on Bela’s leg, her hand trembling just slightly.

Tatiana inhaled sharply, setting her jaw as she cupped Bela’s other arm.

 “ Am nevoie ca anghila mea electrică să se întoarcă, ” she teased with a forced smile, though her voice cracked under the weight of worry. Despite the brave front, her hands were steady as she focused her mana, channeling every ounce of her love and power into her sister.

The room slowly illuminated, filling with a symphony of vibrant colors. Red hues pulsed from Mihai’s hands, goldish green radiated from Tatiana, and a soft, shimmering pink glowed from Alina’s touch. The auras intertwined, wrapping around Bela’s body in a brilliant display, as though an aurora borealis had descended into the small medical room. The soft hum of magic flowed through her veins, lighting them from within, like rivers glowing under moonlight.

Thea watched in awe, her breath hitching at the sight. Each color seemed alive, dancing together in perfect harmony, weaving into Bela’s essence to restore her mana. Ian glanced over his shoulder, still gripping Johnny’s hand, unable to fully pull his gaze from the radiant scene unfolding before him. Even Rowan felt a flicker of warmth in his chest despite the emotional sting from Jasper’s earlier distance. 

“ Probabil că a folosit prea mult... bietul meu copil, ” Alina murmured, wiping sweat from her brow as her pink mana continued to flow gently into Bela’s leg. The strain was visible in her face, yet she didn’t falter.

Minutes passed, every second stretching endlessly, until finally, they lifted their hands in unison. A soft collective sigh escaped them, their shoulders slumping from the effort. Bela’s color had returned, her face no longer pale and drawn. Her breathing was steady now, rising and falling with a peaceful rhythm.

“She looks... normal again,” Mihai whispered, relief softening the edges of his voice.

Alina’s lips curved into a small, exhausted smile, her heart full of quiet gratitude as she brushed a strand of hair from Bela’s forehead. “She’s back...” she whispered, the faintest hint of tears glistening in her eyes.

Tatiana exhaled deeply, brushing off her fatigue with a flick of her hair, though her gaze lingered on Bela a moment longer. “See? I knew our bela couldn’t stay down for long,” she muttered under her breath, as if reassuring herself more than anyone else.

All three softly chuckled as they watched Bela's monitor beep normally. Thea exhaled slowly, a weight lifting from her chest. Relief settled in her like a warm tide as she gently brushed her fingers over Bela’s cheek, her thumb tracing soothing circles along her skin. The rhythmic hum of the monitor felt like music to her ears, a promise that Bela—her love, her everything—was still with her.

She leaned forward, her forehead lightly pressing against Bela’s for a brief moment, as if trying to pour all her emotions into that touch. Then, with a tender smile that carried both hope and longing, Thea softly kissed Bela’s forehead, her lips lingering just enough to feel the warmth of her skin.

“Please... wake up soon” 

Chapter 54: fifty four

Chapter by Honeydrrop

—

Wake.

A voice.

Call.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Wake.

Flowers.

Branches.

Cosmos.

Wake.

Calling.

A voice.

Pulling.

Pushing.

Wake. 

I am-

I was-

I will-

I?

Wake.

I?

I am V-

I was V-

I will be-

I?

Wake.

I.

I am Vacan-

I was Voi-

I will be Fr-

I.

Wake.

I.

I am Vacnate.

I was Void.

I will be…

Free.

I.

Wake. 

…

A voice.

Hers.

Other half.

Hers. 

A pull.

A call.

A lead.

Her. 

The Universe.

Cradles me.

Holds me.

Comforts me. 

…

Wake.

A voice pulls me up.

I resist.

I do not want to wake.

Wakefulness seems…

Difficult. 

Wake.

The voice pulls me.

I resist.

A game of tug of war.

Wake.

No.

…

Wake.

The voice is back.

I sigh. 

Sigh?

How do I sigh in nothingness? 

Wake.

The voice drags me, pulls me, calls to me, leads me.

I finally, finally follow. 

—

Vacante.

Vacante…

Wake soon, love. 

…

Vacante was alone, she could sense it.

Good. 

She did want for her tears, her pain, to be seen.

Twice it was.

Twice she had failed her other half. 

Twice.

Two times too many.

She shifted to her side, her body felt new, tender, she hated it. 

Tears slipped free from darkened eyes, dull eyes. Her locs spilled like water, a mirror of her sorrow. The tears stained her face, lit them with a shine under the dim lights of the room. 

Her separate room, separate from all. 

She longed to have another with her.

But that was a privilege for humans and despite this body, human she was not. 

Her tears continued to flow, silent and fast. Staining the pillow beneath her head. A faint ticking from the room over echoed in her head.

Tick.

You fail everyone.

Tick.

You fail her .

Tick. 

You fail, fail, fail. 

Tick. 

Vacante laid among her sorrowful thoughts, and she felt nothing but melancholy. 

…

Thea opened the door, slow, quiet. She didn't want to disturb the peace of the room.

But as she stepped into the room, she felt that perhaps the peace had already been shattered. What with the weeping figure on the bed. She stood still for a moment, shocked maybe. Scared even. 

She had never seen Vacante weep. Never seen much emotion from her at all. It made sense seeing as she was the concept of Absence. But still, it scared Thea to see her be so human. So vulnerable. So sad. 

She let the door close behind her, it clicked as it shut. Vacante froze, turning around slowly in defeat. Thea moved to sit beside her on the bed, placing their hands close for Vacante to choose if they would touch. 

Vacante turned away from her, shame lacing her bowed spine. Thea watched mournfully. 

“το κενό μου, what’s wrong.”

Vacante shook her head slowly. She didn't want to answer, she didn't want to be touched, she didn't want to be acknowledged at all. 

She didn't want to be human. 

Such a painful thing to be, such a horrible experience. 

She did not like it.

She wanted to go back to before the Universe was taken from her and simply bask in the simplicity of existing far from everything. Emotion, humanity, life, everything. 

Thea continued to speak after a time, small conversation, updates, the like. 

“The dining room was repaired. No casualties were reported, at least, none I have been told of. We’ve taken a singular angel captive, he claims to remember the fight in full but has been rather mournful. Too mournful to provide us with any useful information about the cause of the attack.”

She paused to take a breath, she knew this news would hit Vacnate most.

“Bela remains in a coma, we have no clue how long but her family has restored her mana so she will hopefully wake soon.” 

Vacante paused at the news, a coma? She has heard of them yes, seen humans succumb to them near the end of their lives, but Bela? Falling into a coma? No. No.

Was it her fault, for being so weak, so distracted by the health of her wife that she ignored the dangers of the battlefield? Was it her fault that Bela had to overwork herself into a coma? Was it her fault? 

New tears, fresh like spring water, burst from her eyes. Dripping, prickling, trailing down her numbed face. Thea areached a hand out and wiped the tears from her face, and at last Vacnate spoke. 

“Please, do not be so gentle with me.” 

Thea paused and considered the melancholy woman. 

“Why shouldn't I?” 

“I have done things, many things, that I should be punished for. Hurt for. Killed for.” 

“So have I.”

“Not like what I have done.”

“Perhaps, given that you are a God and I am not. But I have slaughtered, conquered, and burned families apart. I have done terrible deeds, I know this. I am not a good person, I know this. I live with it, grow from it, change with it.” 

“...”

“Tell me then, allow me to judge you if you wish, for your so-called crimes.” 

“...”

“I was the reason, it was my failure, that allowed for The Universe, the Fabric, to be stolen away and trapped. It was me, who hunted her, killed her, to free the Fabric. It was I, who faltered and caused her to go into a coma. It was I, me, who killed and hurt others. Gods, mortals, children and parents. I have hurt many, killed many, mutilated many. And still, I breathe. It does not seem very fair to me.” 

For the first time in the conversation, in the interaction, Thea pulled back. Away from Vacante. Vacante expected this, and therefore ignored the loneliness settling in her heart at the reaction. She deserved it, and much more. 

“When you, when you killed Bela. Was it, an order?” 

“What?”

“Did you kill her, intending to hurt me, snuff her life, make her suffer?”

“No!”

“Then I do not see why, if she has forgiven you, that I could not forgive as well.” 

“...”

“She is still here, with me, with us. She has forgiven you for her death, I do not see why I cannot learn to as well. Especially since, you were the one, to bring her back to me.” 

“I- surely that cannot be as simple as you claim.”

“No, it never is. But I can try to move past it. And if I can, if she can, then I believe others can forgive you as well.” 

“But-”

“Yes?”

“I-she- I have betrayed her, her Laws, hurt her with my actions in her name. She is angry at me now, terribly so! How can you claim, how can you look at me and say she can learn to forgive me?!” 

“Because I know her. If she is still angry at you, it is because of something deeper. Something she is afraid of facing, of speaking aloud. If she is still angry about you, I can say with clarity, it is not because she cares for the Laws. But because she cares for you .” 

Vacante sobbed then, falling into waiting arms. 

Thea cradled her, much like The Universe had done often. 

The thought brought more tears. 

And yet, the sentence she had been given, the words, echoed in her head unbidden.

‘Love may save you yet.’ 

…

“I'm sorry.”

The sound of beeping, nothing else. 

“It's my fault you're here, I know that. I was weak. I hope you don’t think poorly of me now.”

“...”

“I know you can’t talk to me right now, I know you probably won't hear this.”

“I have to tell you anyway.” 

“I'm sorry.”

“It's all my fault.”

“I should have been stronger, faster, should have saved you.”

“You didn't deserve what happened to you.”

“You didn't deserve to be caught up in this, all because you fell for me.”

“...”

“I don't deserve your love.” 

“...”

“I only have one hope though, a small one.”

“I hope you don't see me badly, poorly, for what I became. I hope you don't think of me as a monster now.”

“You never did, but maybe now…”

“Maybe you will.” 

“I'm sorry.”

“It's my fault you're here.”

“I'm sorry.” 

…

A week and a half had passed since the battle.

A tedious, dragging, week and a half. 

And still, Bela and Johnny remained asleep.

Ian rarely left Johnny’s side. A ghost of a man, he stayed stuck in that chair near the bed, a hand lingering near Johnny’s own but never touching.

He was too afraid to touch. 

As he let his thoughts drag him down, back into a well of self hatred and destruction he heard the monitor nearby perk up. A spike in the heart rate, it continued, small spikes that leveled out as they continued. 

Was he waking?

Finally?

After all this time?

Ian stood from his chair, body alight with nervous energy. His eyes alert and sharp on Johnny’s face. He watched as his eyes flickered behind closed eyelids, darting to and fro. Signs of awareness. 

They peeked open, slow and silent. His eyes opened to reveal tired and dull irises. Ian forced himself to stay silent, frozen as though that would stop Johnny from looking for him, from spotting him, finding him. It was inevitable though, they always found each other. And so he wasn't surprised as his eyes caught on his own frozen figure. 

“Ian?”

His voice was weak, frail like thin ice. Ian stopped his hands from reaching forward and grabbing at him, instead drawing them away and toward himself. Johnny’s heart rate spiked once more, a desperate lurch in his chest at the sight before him. 

“Ian? Where…”

Johnny cast his gaze around as best as he could. The medical wing? Why was he…

What had happened?

The last he could remember was the dinner party, Rowan standing to toast the table. 

And then…

Nothing.

He frowned, face creasing as he looked at Ian once more. Why did he look so sad? So mournful? Scared and alone? Ian wasn't alone, not as long as Johnny had anything to say about it. 

He tried his best to sit up, move and reach toward Ian but his body was weak and would not cooperate with him. His hand fell limp to the bed and he looked at Ian with…

He couldn't tell what he looked at him with.

Ian couldn't tell either.

That was new.

Normally they could read each other like a book. So why?

Why couldn't they do that now?

What…

What happened to them? 

Ian stepped back and looked around, nervous energy back once more. He needed to leave, get away, he couldn't risk it. Hurting Johnny, failing Johnny. He couldn't risk it. 

“I-I’ll go get a nurse, I’ll be back soon.” 

They both knew he was lying about coming back. 

Neither said anything about it though and Johnny simply watched rather mournfully and confused as Ian left him.

What…

What happened?

What did he do?

For surely, if Ian was leaving him, it must have been something of his own design.

His own fault.

Surely. 

For why else would Ian abandon him, if not for a flaw in his design. 

…

Two weeks. 

Johnny found his way free from the medical wing now. 

He found himself trapped in his lab though.

He did not stay in Ian’s room, their once shared room, anymore.

It hurt too much, to be turned away each time he tried to enter it. 

Why was Ian leaving him, he wondered, and yet he found no response to his questions. 

Instead, Johnny forced himself into his work. Day and night he would experiment, Rowan joining him from time to time with no word of Jasper on his tongue. 

Other days he would find himself tired and collapsing against his desk, waking up in the small living quarters of the lab with a note from Thea or a Guard that had visited. 

Some days, very few and far in between, he found himself visiting Bela. She looked small, weak, against the bed. 

His memories had yet to return and still no one had told him of what had occurred, each person seeme brother reluctant to share, especially when it came to what happened to Johnny himself. Many had apparently not seen it, others having claimed only Bela saw the full thing. 

This left Johnny to wonder, what had happened. 

He knew a battle had taken place, that much they had said. That angels and Zerithos himself had appeared, this they had said as well. And finally, he knew that Zerithos was dead now, no one had told him how, just that he had died. 

So much information, such little answers. 

…

Three weeks now.

Bela still had yet to awaken. 

Seemingly trapped within her dreams, the realm of sleep. 

Johnny missed her terribly.

He had, during this span of weeks, visited the singular captive angel. Thea had taken him there to visit the man in the dungeons near the coast. 

The dungeons had been refurbished, newly painted and cleaned after Bela’s meltdown. Housed to fit criminals near their death row or criminals that would need to be interrogated without being too comfortable of course. 

The man, Grace, Thea had told him. Was mournful, when Johnny asked him what happened he gave a singular answer. One word.

“Rose.”

Thea sighed at this and told Johnny that all he would mention, would talk about, was someone named ‘Rose’ she had no clue who this could be as many people were named Rose. Johnny had a thought though, a small inkling, that maybe this ‘Rose’ was someone of importance to the man. 

Maybe Zerithos had used this ’Rose’ character to manipulate him to attack. To hurt those around him, to aid Zerithos’ plans. It made sense, in Johnny’s mind at least. Thea seemed to consider his ideas, vowing to ask him more about Rose at a later date. 

To take Johnny’s mind off such topics though, she invited him to lunch with her, Johnny had declined citing important breakthroughs. In truth it was simply because she reminded Johnny too much of Ian. The reminder painful to his addled heart. 

Thea accepted his decision with grace, moving to walk him back to the Palace she mentioned possibly visiting Bela before leaving to meet up with someone, Carmen, she had said. 

Johnny felt the name was familiar, maybe it had been mentioned to him before, but he ignored it. Too involved in his grief and confusion toward his own lovesick heart. 

Thea bid him farewell at the Palace, and he stood there for a time, tears pricking at his eyes. He wiped them away rather harshly. He would not cry, for there was no need, maybe Ian just needed time. Maybe that was all, Ian would come back to him, of this he was sure. But maybe..

Maybe he needed a push. 

Johnny headed off to the kitchen then, maybe if he made something from Ian. Maybe that would show how much he cared for him, maybe that would get Ian to talk to him. Rather than to push him away.

…

Huh. 

 

eu?

 

eu?

 

eu...

 

Este suficient?

 

sunt eu?

 

În viaţă?

 

Da.

 

Nu.

 

Ce este „în viață”?

 

eu?

 

Tu?

 

Tu, cititorul.

 

Ce câștigi din asta?

 

De la mine?

 

Ce te leagă aici. 

 

Spune-mi.

 

vreau sa stiu.

 

Hm.

 

Presupun atunci.

 

Dacă este divertisment.

 

Voi da un spectacol.

 

…

 

It’s cold.

 

Cold.

 

Winter?

 

Ice?

 

Frost.

 

Morana.

 

It’s cold.

 

I’m cold.

 

Why is it so cold?

…

 

Quiet.

 

No one around.

 

Quiet.

 

Not a sound.

 

The walls are thick, there are no occupants in those beds nearby.

 

It’s quiet. 

 

Cold and quiet.

 

I am lonely…

 

Why did they leave me?

 

Why was I abandoned?

 

Did they learn to hate me?

 

Are they tired of me?

 

Have I not been entertaining enough for them? 

 

…

 

Quiet.

 

No one around.

 

Quiet, but not cold. 

 

Warm, tropical breezes. The beach nearby awash with colors. 

 

Warm, spring weather.

 

Warm.

 

Like them.

 

…

 

It is not quiet.

 

It is not cold. 

 

It is loud and warm.

 

Loud, there are voices nearby 

 

Minds aware and awake. 

 

Thea.

 

Vacante. 

 

Other minds close by.

 

She was too tired to sense who they belonged to. 

 

Tired.

 

That was a word she felt, understood, all too well. 

 

Tired, so very tired. 

 

And yet she could not sleep. 

 

Thea and Vacante came closer, sitting at either side of her. They talked over her prone form. Idle words and conversation, Bela considered opening her eyes. But the room would be bright, or so she thought. And so she kept them closed. 

 

Then she thought about moving, but that would cause noise and attention, and so she did not move.

 

She thought about speaking, but that would draw attention as well, so she stayed silent. 

 

Bela found, for the first time in her long life, that she stayed silent and unmoving for a long long time. 

 

The conversation above her continued, now drifting towards their fears and worries. Many of which centered over her. When would she wake up? Would she be okay? Would she be different? Angry? Sad? Would she transform once more? So many questions and yet no answers. 

 

Bela sat there for a time, knowing the answer to each question, and still she kept silent. 

 

Maybe this could be a game?

 

Yes, a game where in which she would wait till someone roused her. Noticed her, sought after her. 

 

A perfect game. 

 

Something she had never played before. 

 

As she decided upon her game there was a mind nearby, approaching, bright green colors. Golden undertones and swirling thoughts. A steady shape, presence despite her fickleness. 

 

Tatiana. 

 

Her sister.

 

Her twin.

 

Tatiana’s mind reached out, a yearning for its counterpart, its other half, and Bela of course, answered. She reached forward, felt their magic spark against one another and felt more than saw the look of surprise and then glee across Tatiana’s face. 

 

Tatiana raced into the room, throwing the doors open with a loud bang. Startling both Thea and Vacante. They stood, worry on their faces but calmed at the sight of the blinding grin she sported. She moved to Bela’s side without care for either woman and shook her prone form.

 

“I felt her earlier, now, wake up Ivy!” 

 

Bela groaned, this time it came out as an actual noise. Thea and Vacante startled and rushed to her side, offering supporting hands as they shifted her into a sitting position. 

 

“Ugh.” 

 

One word uttered from Bela’s mouth, but enough to send everyone rushing about. Thea moved to call for a nurse, Vacante staying behind to keep an eye on Bela and make sure she was alright. Tatiana began to talk rather rapidly, of all the things that had happened while Bela had slept. 

 

Bela nodded lazily with each remark from Tatiana, a grin upon her tired face as she rubbed her eyes. 

 

Vacante watched her, eyes careful and alert, Bela looked at her and sighed rather mournfully, before turning away and choosing to simply bask in the presence of her sibling. 

 

Vacante felt her face fall, just a little, a crestfallen expression flashing across her eyes. Then she steeled her look so as not to cause a draw of attention to herself. Tatiana, too focused on her sister, did not say anything. And Bela, well, she simply ignored it, despite the guilt heavy in her gut. 

 

A nurse entered the room, followed by Thea and began to do the necessary check ups on Bela. Shooing everyone from the room as she did so. 

 

“The patient needs some time and privacy while I look her over. You can come back in an hour.” 

 

And with that the doors to the room shut, leaving the group locked outside from Bela. 

 

Tatiana tittered about, her hands jittering and shaking with excess energy as she looked around. 

 

“I’ll be back.” 

 

With that she sped off, gusts of wind signaling her leave as she rushed into the depths of the Palace. Thea frowned and gazed around before turning to leave with Vacante in tow muttering words to each other as they went. 

 

Unbeknownst to them, a nurse, a male with pale and scar covered skin, hovered near the Queen Consorts door. He looked around rather suspiciously before vanishing, leaving in a swirl of dark and shadowed smoke. Sigils burned into the ground of where he had been standing earlier, that faded with a small gust of wind from an open window nearby. 

 

…

 

Bela sat among the pillows, the blankets folded at her waist as she gazed around the room. There was a window within the room, it allowed for her to gaze directly toward the large expanse of island. Toward the direction of the nearby town and settlement for the citizens. 

 

She pondered the pros and cons of leaving the room, disappearing and taking a trip to the towns in her boredom and found the cons far outweighed the pros. Therefore she stayed within the room rather reluctantly. 

 

A knock sounded at the door, faint and light. Bela hummed and kept her eyes locked on the window, the view of the outside. 

 

The door opened slowly, revealing behind it her family. 

 

Her mother, Alina, her father, Mihai, and her sister, Tatiana. 

 

They entered the room and began to speak, worry thick on their tongues. 

 

“Bela, draga mea, cum te simți?”

 

Bela hummed and looked over at them as they settled themselves around her on the bed. 

 

“Mă simt bine, obosit, desigur, dar în regulă.”

 

Her mother sighed in relief and placed her hand over Bela’s covered knee in a show of support. 

 

“Asta e bine, asta e bine. Vrem doar să fii în siguranță, până la urmă, în siguranță și fericită, micuța mea vedetă.”

 

Bela smiled at her, weak and frail on her tired and gaunt face. Her mother seemed pained by this but did her best to smile back as well. 

 

Her father placed a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to gaze at him. 

 

“Cerul meu drag, ne gândeam la ceva. Am vrut să vă propunem ideea înainte de a întreba pe altcineva. Dar nu mai pare atât de sigur pentru tine aici pe cât credeam. Ne-ar calma pe noi, nervii noștri uzați, dacă te-ai gândi să te întorci acasă cu noi.”

 

Bela blinked, and tilted her head in question.

 

“Vrei să mă întorc acasă? Și ce vrei să spui, întreabă pe altcineva? Ai plănuit să-i inviți pe alții cu noi?”

 

Her father smiled at her and winked, placing a finger against his lips playfully. Bela laughed shortly and shook her head, gazing instead at her oddly silent sister. 

 

“Regina zânelor, de ce ești atât de tăcut acum?”

 

Tatiana huffed and pouted at her before reaching out an arm and swatting in her direction, Bela laughed and swatted back resulting in the sisters having a bit of a fighting match with their parents watching both fondly and exasperatedly. 

 

“Fetelor! Fetelor! Calmează-te, nu este un loc unde să lupți.”

 

The girls separated, still laughing and shooting playful jabs and insults at each other. Mihai chimed in as Alina leaned back from where she had separated them. 

 

“Dacă voi doi doriți să luptați, păstrați-l pentru sala de sport de familie, desigur, astfel îi putem pune pe copii din umbră să parieze.”

 

Alina turned to him with a rather cross expression.

 

“Nu-i vei lega copiii în planurile tale prostești, iubirea mea.”

 

Mihai sighed and placed a dramatic hand across his forehead, leaning back as though struck.

 

“Ah! Cum ar putea fi asta, trădat de cel pe care îl iubesc cel mai mult. Doborâtă, speranțele mele se transformă în scrum pe podea.”

 

The twins laughed at their fathers antics, Bela reached out a hand and pushed him slightly causing him to topple across the sheets with a loud, oof!

 

Tatiana snickered and pretended it was a cough as her father’s ruby eyes caught onto her, their mother watched with a tired grin. Clearly this was something they did often. Or had done it often, before…

 

She shook her head of the memories, it mattered not, Bela was here once more. Back again, and hopefully she would return home with them for the first time in years. 

 

“Steluță, constelația mea în noapte, ai vrea să te întorci cu noi?”

 

Bela nodded lightly, a smile hanging upon her face. 

 

“Pot să invit câțiva dintre prietenii mei?”

 

“Desigur! Desigur! Cu cât mai mult, cu atât mai bine până la urmă.”

 

Bela smiled and laughed at her mother’s joy. 

 

“Păi, m-ai ajuta să plec din pat ca să mă duc să-i întreb atunci?”

 

Her mother looked at her with concern and opened her mouth, Tatiana spoke before she could voice her worry into words. 

 

“Mă voi descurca eu. Pe cine vrei să întrebi, Hemlock?”

 

“Hei! Nu-mi spune așa, regina zânelor.”

 

“Nu-mi spune regina zânelor atunci, Lily.”

 

Bela sighed and rolled her eyes, settling against the pillows behind her with crossed arms. 

 

“Orice, orice. Doar du-te și întreabă-i pe Thea și pe ceilalți.”

 

“Ceilalți?”

 

“Știi, ca Johnny și Ian și Jasper și Rowan și toți. I-ai întâlnit înainte, așa că ar trebui să-i recunoști destul de ușor.”

 

Tatiana let out a little, ah, as she came to the realization of who Bela was talking about. Nodding her head she stood and moved to the open door of the room. 

 

“Mă întorc atunci, stai bine!”

 

Bela watched as she raced away with a resounding laugh, she sighed at her twin’s antics and settled against the pillows into a more comfortable position.

 

“Cred că voi dormi până se întoarce ea atunci.”

 

Her parents nodded, her mother moving to sit on her unoccupied side as they both leaned against her shoulders. 

 

“Vom fi aici când te trezești, stea dragă.”

 

…

Chapter 55: fifty five

Chapter by Honeydrrop

Rowan walked down the hall, Jasper at his side. It was silent between them, a foot of distance separating their normally close walk. Their tails hung limp, far away from the other. 

 

Rowan longed to talk to him, ask him why he was pushing him away. He refrained, it probably wasn't a good idea to have this talk in such a public place. It would scare Jasper away from him, this he knew. 

 

And so he kept quiet. 

 

Carefully so.

 

Jasper didn't look at him as they walked. Rowan looked at him. Rowan looked at him alot. 

Glancing gazes, casted eyes, and still no acknowledgement given. 

 

Their body language was tense, their footsteps laced with hidden energy. The medical wing would be near them soon, at the thought something green and glowing raced from the large doors of the wing, almost running right into Jasper and Rowan. 

 

“Oh! I didn't see you there! Hey, Bela wanted to see you two actually!” 

 

Tatiana, the buzzing woman, grabbed them from their wrists and dragged them into the medical wing, past a few bewildered doctors and nurses. Arriving at the room, Tatiana shoved them inside with a hush and ran off to find Johnny and Ian. 

 

Rowan and Jasper reoriented themselves quickly, and Jasper almost immediately rushed to sit at  a chair near the edge of the room. Leaving Rowan to stand rather awkwardly alone. 

 

Before him was Bela, sleeping, and her parents resting at her side. They had waved to both men as they entered but offered no conversation. 

 

Rowan sighed and moved to stand closer to the bed leaning against the wall. 

 

The distance between him and Jasper, both physical and emotional, felt too large to cross. 

 

As he thought to himself, the doors opened once more. Inside the room appeared Johnny, wearing a burnt and tattered apron. Ian was nowhere to be found however, and Tatiana took his place at Johnny’s side. 

 

“Dormea ​​în timp ce eram plecat, nu?”

 

Tatiana sported a rather mischievous expression on her face and she closed in on the sleeping woman, summoning a black marker she raised it to Bela’s face prepared to draw something dastardly for sure.

Bela opened her eyes and glared at Tatiana. 

 

“Tati, don't you dare.” 

 

“Aw, cmon, you're no fun!” 

 

Tatiana straightened up and threw the marker to the side, it vanished in a shimmer of light. Bela huffed and moved her body into a more upright position, dislodging her mother and father who had been leaning on her shoulders. 

 

Now awake she cast her gaze around the room and smiled as Rowan moved forward dn collapsed across her legs. She patted his head with a laugh.

 

“How are you doing, ciupercă mică?”

 

Rowan groaned in response, and Bela laughed once more with a rather sympathetic look. Glancing up she took stock of the burnt Johnny and sighed, waving a hand she watched as his clothing changed back to its usual state of a button up and a lab coat. 

 

Johnny moved and sat himself near her, before dropping forward and encasing her in a rather desperate hug. She patted his back with a hum, sensing the distress from both him and Rowan’s mind. 

 

She didn't know what had happened to cause such things, she refused to read deeper and find the issues, invade their privacy in any way, and instead focused on learning from their own mouths of their issues and baggage. 

 

Tatiana watched the scene and took note of a rather sullen Jasper off to the side. 

 

She frowned, wondering why he was so sullen and of course, not with his shorter partner, but chose to write it off as none of her business. These were Bela’s friends after all, not hers. 

 

Bela would know better on how to deal with them and comfort them than Tatiana would, and Tatiana wasn't anywhere near attached enough to try and help them through their relationship problems. 

 

So she instead, moved to about the center of the room and cleared her throat. Drawing all attention to her she spoke rather bluntly. 

 

“Bela will be leaving with us to go home.” 

 

Rowan paused and turned to face Tatiana, a slow turn of the head as though his neck was made of stone. 

 

Johnny shot up and looked at Bela in alarm, she was leaving? Like, permanently? 

 

Their joined worries were quelled by a loud laugh from the woman in question. Bela snickered into her hand and then spoke rather loudly as she scolded Tatiana for her word choice.

 

“Visiting. I’m visiting home. You make it sound like I’ll never come back, Tati.” 

 

Tatiana smiled and looked off to the side.

 

“I mean, I dunno, maybe you won’t.” 

 

“Are you threatening to kidnap me?” 

 

“...No.” 

 

“Tati!” 

 

Rowan interrupted what was likely to be a new sibling quarrel. 

 

“So, do you know when you’ll be back.” 

 

“Aw, missing me already?”

 

“Wha- NO!”

 

“Denial is a river in egypt, ciupercă mică.” 

 

Rowan huffed and slumped back into the sheets, muttering curses at her as his tail flicked around playfully. 

 

Johnny settled himself seated at her side and she turned to smile at him, noticing his distant expression she frowned and flicked him across the forehead. He grabbed it and glared at her lightly and she laughed in response. 

 

“So, I was told, I could invite some people. Would any of you like to go with me?” 

 

Rowan’s hand shot up, waving about like his tail as he yelled into the sheets around her legs. Bela snorted at the sight and covered her mouth as she dissolved into laughter. 

 

Johnny considered her proposal, if he went he would be further from Ian which was something he did not want. For some reason the very idea of being far from Ian made him feel physically ill. But…

 

It would probably be a good idea to get some space.

 

He could sort through himself without the constant urge, the need to run to Ian every few seconds. 

 

So with a hum he agreed as well, a raise of the hand. Bela smiled and clapped her hands together.

 

“Alright! So I suppose you all will be going then! I should go pack.” 

 

So with a graceful movement she shook the covers off of her and nearly leapt away from the bed. Her sister caught her as her knees buckled and she smiled in thanks before pointing toward the door and asking, rather plainly, for her sister to take her to her room. 

 

Tatiana sighed as though put upon but agreed and picked Bela up in a fireman's carry, much to Bela’s annoyance, before speeding off into the Palace. 

 

Rowan, who had ended up rolling onto the floor, sprung up and dusted himself off before moving to go pack up his own meager belongings that resided in the Palace. Jasper remained seated, lost in thoughts and self doubt. 

 

Johnny looked around at the quiet room, Bela’s parents getting up and stretching before moving to leave the medical wing. He felt he should say something, maybe make a polite conversation of sorts? He couldn't tell and the moment slipped past him quite quickly. 

 

When it was just him and Jasper in the room, Johnny moved to leave as well. Sensing that the darker man would prefer to be left alone. As he left he looked back at him and felt a twinge of familiarity. Maybe it was because of how similar he looked right then, lost in thought and self destruction. 

 

Scarily similar to how Ian often looked now. 

 

Johnny blinked and the image of Ian faded and only Jasper remained, so with heavy feet he walked from the room and made his way to the lab to pack a few objects and books. 

 

…

 

Tatiana dropped Bela off rather carefully, away from prying eyes she let her mother hen side shine. 

 

“Esti bine?”

 

“Da, da, am trecut peste asta. Sunt bine sora.”

 

“Doar mă asigur. La urma urmei, ai adormit de trei săptămâni.”

 

Bela sighed, and stood away from her sister, leaning against the doors to her shared chambers. 

 

“Știu, știu. Totuși, te asigur, sunt perfect. Pot să stau singur și dacă te deranjează atât de mult, mă poți ajuta să-mi fac bagajele sau ceva de genul ăsta.”

 

“Mmm, cred că dacă crezi atât de mult în tine poți împacheta pentru tine. În plus, tonul ăsta al tău mă face să cred că m-ai ucide dacă ți-aș spune să mă lași să ajut.”

 

Bela laughed and moved to open the doors, Tatiana stayed put and leaned against a pillar nearby as she watched her sister enter the bedroom and begin to close the doors. 

 

“Strigă dacă ai nevoie de mine, surioară.”

 

“Ești cu doar două minute mai în vârstă. Cu greu mai în vârstă decât mine.”

 

“Încă mai în vârstă!”

 

Bela groaned and slammed the door shut, her sister’s laughter trapped between the wood. Sighing she leaned her head against the door, she felt better sure, but still, sleep clung to her. Dragging her down, she fought against it and moved to the main bedroom of the large chambers. 

 

With a flick of the wrist she allowed her magic to open and close several doors and drawers, dragging clothing and jewelry and books and trinkets free and placing them in a conjured bag. The show of magic made her stumble, she grabbed at the canopy bed before her and squeezed her eyes shut as a pounding headache flared behind her brows. 

 

Hisses of pain escaped from behind clenched teeth, maybe she shouldn't have used her magic so soon. Not after that large display. Leaving her human body, even if only for a few minutes, had hurt terribly. 

 

Both her magic and her. 

 

It had hurt. 

 

It was not a light transition, not something simple, and yet for the sake of her friends she had done it. Was she growing soft? Growing weak? 

 

No.

 

She shook her head, ignored the thoughts and leaned back from her place against the bed frame pole. 

 

In the distance, a door creaked open, quick and choppy motions. Silent but fast footsteps. 

 

Rounding the corner was Vacante herself. 

 

The woman froze at the sight of Bela before her, who had yet to notice the taller woman seeing as she was turned around and gazing upon her now packed bag. 

 

Vacante considered if she should leave, and then remembered the threat that had been delivered upon her by Tatiana. 

 

“Leave that room without fixing things between you and her and I’ll make sure you leave without a head.” 

 

Vacante bit her lip and curled her fingers into fists, her nails biting into tender skin. She stepped forward and cleared her throat, folding her arms behind her back. She looked for all the world like a soldier at attention. 

 

Bela whirled and stumbled, falling back against the bed frame. 

 

Vacante moved forward and steadied her, brows creasing in concern. 

 

“Are you-”

 

“I’m fine. Let me go.”

 

Vacante let go of her arm slowly, fingertips brushing against the skin, ripe with longing. 

 

Bela brought her own fingers to her temple and glared at Vacante.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“I was-”

 

“It was my sister, wasn't it. Did she threaten you?”

 

“No-”

 

“You're lying.”

 

“...”

 

“Yes, I am reading your mind. After all, it’s rather loud.” 

 

“My apologies.”

 

“Oh please, don't apologize for something so meaningless.” 

 

“I-”

 

“No, don't say anything, I already have a headache, I don't need more pain.”

 

“...”

 

Bela frowned, deep, and fell back upon the bed. Her body swayed as she tried her best to stay sitting despite the all together ache thrumming through her systems. An ache, like something in her was broken. 

 

She knew what it was.

 

She ignored it.

 

She could deal with the pain.

 

“Vacante.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“If you have something you wish to ask, you can just say it, yknow.”

 

“I..”

 

“Don’t treat me like I’m some ruler above you. Treat me like a person, please. Treat me like…”

 

‘Like you used to’ remained unspoken, though they both heard it.

 

 Neither made any move for a time. Quiet enveloped the room. 

 

Bela would have talked more, maybe argued with her, yelled, cried, cursed, done anything really. Had it not been for the pain she was in. 

 

“Why are you packing?”

 

“...”

 

“I'm sorry if that was too-”

 

“No, no, don't apologize.” 

 

“...”

 

“To answer your question, I’m visiting my childhood home.”

 

“...”

 

Bela leaned her head back, eyes closed and brow furrowed. Her body hurt .

 

“Ai vrea…”

 

Vaccinate stayed silent but alert, waiting and ready to respond. 

 

“Ai vrea să fii alături de mine?”

 

“...”

 

“...”

 

“...Da”

 

A sigh, one of relief. Vacante stepped forward and hand reaching out, and then pulled back suddenly unsure of herself and her movements. 

 

Bela did not notice this. 

 

With a grunt, she moved, leveled herself up from the bed, and grabbed her bag. 

 

Vacante caught her as she stumbled and nearly fell off the dias the bed lay upon. 

 

Bela sighed and relaxed within Vacnate’s arms, her vision fading and body falling limp, the bag dropping from prone hands. 

 

She had fallen asleep once more. 

 

Vacante stood there for a second, then shifted her into a more comfortable hold. To be trusted with her while she slept…

 

It reminded Vacante of simpler times.

 

Before these human shells. 

 

She wrapped her arms tighter around Bela and hefted the bag across her shoulder with a hand. Then she turned and carefully left the room. Tatiana shifted in alarm as she caught sight of the unconscious woman, but relaxed at Vacante’s mouthed words. 

 

She fell asleep, too much stress. 

 

The pair walked then, toward the entrance of the Palace. No words were spoken but a newfound solidarity had formed between them. Both desired the same thing, to protect Bela, and that was really all that mattered to them. 

…

Vacante found herself being swarmed as soon as they exited the Palace and landed on the pathway outside.

 

Bela’s parents, ever prone to worry, surged forward like waves and surrounded Vacante, who was still holding an unconscious Bela. 

 

“Ah- ea este?!”

 

“E în regulă, prea mult stres. Asta e tot.”

 

Bela’s parents blinked and looked up at Vacante in surprise. 

 

“Oh? Si tu esti roman?”

 

“Nu, nu. Dar este limba mea maternă.”

 

Bela’s parents, her mother more specifically, opened their mouths to ask more questions but found themselves interrupted as the doors swung open and Rowan tumbled down the stairs, Jasper in tow. 

 

“Let's get this party- WOAH- what happened?!” 

 

He moved forward, peering at Bela who lay prone in Vacnate’s arms, worry struck across his face.

 

“Is she alright, it's only been a few minutes, why is she asleep again?” 

 

Vacante sighed and looked down at Rowan, he was so similar, she thought, to Cirro and Elias. Painfully so. 

 

She shook her mind away from such painful thoughts however, not keen to remember their last encounter with her, and instead offered a -hopefully- comforting grin. 

 

“She’s fine, just stressed. That’s all. Once we get to the house I'm sure she’ll wake.” 

 

Rowan looked at her, distrust clear in his eyes, it seemed even he had not forgiven her for her being the cause of Bela’s death all those months ago. Vacante tried not to let that sting. 

 

Blinking back, tears? No, she would not cry in front of such people. She refused to be vulnerable in front of those she did not belong among. 

 

Either way, she moved forward and placed Bela’s bag near the small pile of other bags, seemingly from Johnny who was nowhere to be found. Vaccinate stood and turned and found herself face to face with the man inquisition, peering at her with a slight glare. 

 

“Ah, I had wondered-”

 

“I know you're lying about why she;s unconscious.” 

 

Vacante blinked in surprise, she looked around and found, much to her shock, that they were far from hearing range of the others. Was this some sort of pre planned attack on her? 

 

Johnny did not wait for a response and continued talking. 

 

“You're tone, and the way your eyes shift, you're lying about why she's asleep. Why?” 

 

Vacante looked around and in defeat found she would have no choice but to give at least some of an answer to him.

 

“Her magic,” this was technically not a lie, though far from the actual truth itself, “it wore her out. And she ended up falling asleep.”

 

Johnny stared at her and tilted his head, before sighing with a nod.

 

Vacante found herself spilling out more information just by the look in his eyes. Was it guilt causing her to be so talkative? 

 

“There’s something else, but it's personal. I believe she’d rather say it to you herself. Please, give her that dignity.” 

 

“...”

 

“I believe you.” 

 

And with that he grabbed the bags near her feet and hefted them up into his arms. 

 

“Let’s go catch up with everyone else, they went down the trail while we were talking.” 

 

…

 

“I’m sorry you live where?” 

 

“Drumul crepuscular.”

 

“Yeah, okay, I heard that right. You live on the Twilight Road?! I thought that was a myth!”

 

Rowan looked at Jasper, who was practically vibrating out of his skin with questions toward the Dumitrescu family. Said family laughed at his curiosity.

 

Rowan wanted to ask why this Twilight Road was so important and fantastical, but he didn't want to ruin Jasper’s delighted mood by reminding him that he was here. So he bit his tongue and watched with wide eyes at the interaction before him. 

 

“Yes, yes. Our family has lived there for generations, in fact, we were the first residents upon it.” 

 

“Really?!”

 

 Mihai chuckled and grabbed Jasper by the shoulder with a gentle hand.

 

“If you’d like I can tell you more about it since you seem so curious, but only once we arrive at the house.” 

 

Jasper seemed near fainting from excitement and nodded rapidly. Mihai and Alina shared a fond look with each other before the man released the wizard and addressed the group as a whole with a loud and warm voice.

 

“Gather round.”

 

The group shuffled forward, forming a circle of people around Mihai. He placed his hands on his hips and counted the members, gaze lingering upon the unconscious form of his youngest daughter. 

 

“If we're all ready, let us depart.” 

 

Rowan glanced around expecting a car to appear from thin air or something of the sort, but no such thing was around. Just them and the nearby forest.

 

“Uh, depart how?” 

 

Alina stepped forward, and grinned rather sharply at Rowan. He seemed to cower back at it, for some reason her grin reminded him of a shark and he stepped closer to Jasper subconsciously. It hurt then, when Jasper stepped away from him. 

 

“Calm, little one.” 

 

Alina directed the words at the anxious man and he looked at her as her grin softened to something warmer. It reminded him of his own mother’s smile, and made his chest hurt with longing. 

 

“To access the Twilight Road, one needs to participate in a long standing, hidden ritual.” 

 

“A ritual? What kind, dark magick, light magick-” 

 

Jasper began to ramble and cut himself off sheepishly as Tatiana patted him on the shoulder with a teasing grin.

 

“Sheesh, we know you're excited, no need to go insane over it just yet though.” 

 

Johnny stepped forward, closer to the family and the now bickering pair of Tatiana and Jasper. 

 

“Sorry to ask, what exactly is the Twilight Road? Is it some hidden pathway?” 

 

“Just some hidden pathway?!” 

 

Jasper seemed almost offended by this description of the road, and Johnny leaned back as the man marched up to him and began ranting. 

 

“The Twilight Road is rumored to be a hidden, guarded secret among only a select few witches. It’s said that if you can walk the road and complete its trials that you’ll be granted with your greatest desire and wish at the end!” 

 

“I-”

 

“And! It’s a whole plane of demons and shadow-like creatures! Millions of beings who have yet to be studied!” 

 

Tatiana moved forward and grabbed Jasper by his shoulders directing him away from the startled albino. 

 

“O-kay, let’s calm down a bit, yeah. Go talk to your boy toy over there or something about it.” 

 

Jasper went silent at the mention of Rowan and silenter still as Tatiana shoved him toward the mush. They knocked arms and Jasper jolted back as though burned, Rowan’s tail drooped and curled into itself. He felt something prick at the back of his throat, something warm and burning, like tears. 

 

An awkward silence settled over the group until Vacante shifted her hold on Bela and cleared her throat.

 

“Shall we go then?” 

 

“Uh, yes! Yes we shall. Everyone gather in a circle and hold hands. We must all be connected for this.” 

 

The group shifted, Vacante placing Bela in the crook of a strong arm. Her fingers laced with Bela’s limp ones. Rowan and Jasper hesitantly linked a finger, pinkies holding limply to each other. 

 

Johnny held a tense hand with Vacante, eyeing her slightly from the corner of his vision. Mihai, Tatiana, and Alina all laced hands. Looking around at the fractured group, Alina frowned slightly and took note to try and help out the unhappy connections within the gathered ensemble before her. 

 

Tatiana, seeing that no one else would start, began the ritual. 

 

“Fecioară, Mamă, Crone.

Ascultă-ne chemarea, răspunde la rugăciunea noastră. Căci te privim cu mirare și sperăm că ne vei călăuzi pe calea noastră dorită.

Amurgul strălucește, stele în noapte. 

Drumul, întunecat și întortocheat. Unde tot ceea ce știm este răsturnat și răsturnat. Răul este binebinele este acum rău, 

Permite-ne să-l găsim, secretele, acele gânduri ascunse. Permite-ne să le căutăm și să le acceptăm în noi. 

Urmați-mă, prietenii mei. Și vom găsi adevărul la sfârșit.”

 

The world twisted, shadows surging around them like a blooming flower. Soft whispers filled the air, magic thrummed through each member, a livewire of electricity, a connected circuit. 

 

The shadows watched and smiled at wide eyed faces, the only ones unfazed being the family and the sleeping woman. 

 

Around them select members of the group could hear a voice, different for each listener, something comforting, something warm, from far off memories. 

 

Rowan Nova, Six of Swords. The move from the past to a brighter future.

 

Jasper Nova, Nine of Cups.  A lesson in accepting when things don't go our way.

 

Johnny Torres. Ace of Swords. Symbolizes the importance of clear thinking, effective communication, and the power of the intellect

 

Vacante. The Emperor.  Signifying responsibility, courage, and intelligence

 

Belladonna Dumitrescu. Death. Bring in the harvest, clear away the remains of the last cycle.

 

…

 

The house loomed before them, dark with large winding hedges and forests surrounding them. The house, three stories tall with towers and balconies adorning its ivy grown walls. Jasper marveled at the twilight sky above them, shining stars twinkled and winked at him. 

 

It reminded him of something, something he shied away from. That creature, not him, it couldn't be him, he refused to think of it as him. That creature looked like the stars, and was made of the stars. 

 

And mood now soured, Jasper dropped his hand form Rowan’s breaking their intertwined connection. 

 

Rowan gazed at him briefly, an expression of profound heartbreak across his eyes. Jasper did not see this. 

 

Vaccinate dragged her hand free from Johnny’s tight grip, adjusting her hold on Bela and placing her back into a more comfortable bridal carry. Miahi and Alina laced arms and broke free from the group, moving swiftly across the pristine grass and cobblestone toward the large entrance of the house.

 

The trees around them seemed alive, waving and smiling down at the gathered people. Tatiana, much to the surprise of Jasper and Johnny, waved at a tree and was graced with its branches draping down to ruffle her hair. 

 

She pouted and moved away from the trees, bounding up the steps and flinging the large doors to the manor open. Disappearing inside. 

 

“Did that tree just…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay, so I wasn't seeing things.”

 

“Let’s just head inside shall we?” 

 

…

 

The inside of the manor was grand, winding green carpets and wallpapers dripping with golden designs. Marbled wooden floors and pillars of all kinds gracing the walls. Each pillar adorned with its own oil lamp, shining a mysterious green fire. 

 

Servants passed by, made of pure shadows. Some young like children and others old like grandparents. Each one was dressed with an ensemble of purple and golden colors and jewelry. Horns poking from their heads and eyes a pure white, their cheshire grins the same color. 

 

Jasper gazed around the manor with wide eyes, craning his neck to take in every aspect. The Dumitrescu family had portraits upon the foyer that a set of three grand staircases led to. Within the portrait stood Tatiana, Mihai, and Alina. No Belladonna. 

 

Jasper assumed then, that this was taken after the original Belladonna’s passing. 

 

The family stopped before the grand staircase. Alina held out an open arm that pointed to a newly appeared servant. One with large horns, draped with chains and glittering jewels. The servant had long white hair, draping across the floor like fabric. 

 

The servants' outfit was rather grand as well, a pale blue shawl with golden designs over a white dress with multicolored belts of grand fabric. Heavy skirts of white and pale blue hit the floor and pooled around the unseen hooves of the servant, the servant smiled and introduced themselves. 

 

“I will be taking care of you all for your stay. You may call me Zina.”

 

The servant bowed, her jewels jangling as she did. Johnny waited till she rose and bowed his head back much to her delight. She smiled and paced forward, wrapping a hand around his arm.

 

“Such a polite young man, might I guide you to where you will be staying for the remainder of your visit?” 

 

Johnny nodded and followed the woman up the stairs, the rest of the group hesitated at the foot of them but moved forward at a commanding look from Alina. 

 

…

 

The house was dark now, quiet, and full of sleeping bodies. 

 

Everyone slept, except of course, Rowan and Jasper.

 

Rowan himself had found solace among the greenhouse, gazing through ivy draped windows toward the darkness of the garden outside. Footsteps, light and quick, resounded through the halls of the house. 

 

Rowan turned, expecting a servant to be before him, but he jolted back rather surprised-nearly falling from his wicker seat- at the sight of Jasper. 

 

Jasper watched him with wide eyes, clearly having not expected him to be here either. 

 

The two stood there in shocked silence, Rowan cleared his throat, poppies blooming across his vines as he waved and turned back to look through the window. 

 

Jasper sighed, a heavy sound through thick air, and moved to a wicker seat near Rowan’s. 

 

Tense quiet followed this, and for a time neither spoke. And finally, when Jasper had found the courage within him to speak, it was not something about Rowan but rather something about a figure he saw moving across the garden. Toward a hidden edge of the forest around the estate. 

 

“What the hell…”

 

Rowan looked at him in confusion and movement caught his eye, the figure had gotten closer to the manor as was now lit up with the light from a nearby firefly field.

 

“Hey isn't that the nurse from..?”

 

“But how did he…?”

 

Rowan and Jasper turned to look at each other before looking back at the man, the nurse from the palace. How the hell did he get here? And why was he here? 

 

Before either could go see for themselves, the man vanished in a swirl of dark shadows. Jasper raced out of the greenhouse and toward the backdoors of the manor, throwing them open and marching across the lawn to where the man had stood. 

 

There on the floor lay a burnt circle, a sigil, in the ground. 

 

Jasper wiped it away shakily with his magic, hesitant to use it after the last time. The last time…

 

When he had turned. 

 

Rowan appeared at his side, huffing out a breath and looking at the shaken face of Jasper with concern and curiosity.

 

“What do you think he was doing here?”

 

Jasper was silent, and finally turned to look at Rowan for the first time in a while. 

 

“I dont know..”

 

…

 

Come morning, the house had been alerted to last night’s intruder. Zina frowned when approached with the topic, a hand at her chin. 

“I do not know anything of such a man. Nor why he would be here. Allow me time to ask my companions if they have any information on this. I will be back.” 

Zina turned and walked straight into the shadows of the wall, melting into them and disappearing from view. 

Jasper watched her leave and crossed his arms  with a huff, for some reason the presence of that man had left him tense. He felt, no, he could sense that there was something sinister at play. 

So he took to asking Alina.

Alina, however, was far more focused on fixing his strained relationship with Rowan.

Which led to him asking Mihai for help.

Mihai directed him to the manor’s library, offering various books and tomes and helping Jasper understand the languages they were written in. Both men studied for a long time, searching for the rune the mysterious nurse had left behind, the one that only Jasper had seen. 

Unfortunately, it was to no avail. They did not find what they were searching for, and Jasper found himself rather dejected at the lack of information. 

Days passed, and during these days strange happenings would occur around the manor. 

Bela had finally woken upon the night of the second day, but she only awoke to the sounds of Johnny nearly falling down the stairs and upon waking the albino had uttered only one name.

Ian. 

Johnny’s sleepwalking became a norm, enough so that he was forced to reside within the first floor guest room so as to avoid falling down the stairs once more. As the week passed his sleepwalking got worse, along with his physical condition. 

Enough so that Zina had taken him into her own private rooms to care for him, using shadow magic to stabilize his weak form. 

Bela hovered over him, out of both concern and avoidance. Concern over his condition and what was causing it. Avoidance toward her mother’s well meaning probing and Vacnate’s attempts at reconciliation. 

As night fell over the manor, now a week into their stay. Bela finally broke her one rule she had been trying to uphold. 

Staying out of her friend’s minds. 

She closed her eyes and placed a finger upon Johnny’s pale and blood drained temple, he did not sweat, move, or flinch. No signs of sickness. So Bela searched and searched and as she moved through the swamp of jumbled thoughts she came to a conclusion. 

She saw that day, that attack, through Jonny’s eyes. She felt the pain as though it was her own, the violation. And she pulled back from his mind with a shocked yelp, stumbling from her chair and into the waiting arms of Zina.

“My lady! Are you alright?” 

Bela gasped and shivered in Zina’s hold before turning around and looking at her.

“I know how to help him, could you please gather a few servants and prepare a new room for him. I’ll be back soon.” 

And with that the woman vanished in a fine mist of blue, leaving behind a rather bewildered Zina and a prone Johnny.

…

Bela moved quickly through the halls of the palace. It was night, which meant the only people she ran into were the night patrol and guard. 

Finding her way to Ian’s chambers she was shocked to see the man was already awake and sitting at the edge of his bed. 

“Oh, well, doesn't this make my job easier.” 

Ian startled and looked up at her confusion across his face.

“Weren't you-”

“No time! Johnny needs you, let’s go!” 

Ian startled at her touch, shying away and standing, looming above her.

“Wha-”

“Johnny collapsed and its’ because of that violation against his soul.”

Bela grabbed Ian at the edges of his sleep shirt and hauled him down so they were now face to face. Determined glare peering into shocked eyes. 

“Now get your shit together and go help him.” 

With that she let go and shoved him, sending him falling back into a mist of blue particles. Bela dusted her hands off and moved through the palace with a huff.

“Might as well kidnap my wife while I’m at it.” 

…

Ian found himself in a room, large and ornate, darker and made of wood rather than marble like his room at the palace. On the bed which lay before him was Johnny. Ian froze and moved forward quickly, hands at Johnny’s face and neck, feeling the weak pulse beneath his skin.

A woman made of shadows moved away from where she sat by Johnny and glanced at Ian with curiosity. Ian turned to her with worry.

“Is he alright?! What’s wrong with him?”

The woman said nothing and looked between Johnny and Ian with what seemed like amazement. Ian grew frustrated and stood up, his hands still upon the sleeping man. 

“What happened?” 

The woman startled at his voice and looked up at him, finally speaking.

‘You're healing him…”

“What?”

“Your touch, your proximity, it's healing him. Look.”

Ian turned to follow her gaze, and caught sight of a much healthier Johnny than before. His face had a flush in it, his hair a sheen, and his skin a luster. Ian shifted closer and felt for Johnny’s pulse. A rapid and fast beat underneath shaking fingers. 

The woman rose and rushed from the room, calling out through the halls for the matriarch of the house to come and look at the strength of the bond Ian and Johnny shared.

…

Three days passed since then. 

Three long, tiresome days. 

During these days, Ian stayed at Johnny’s side. Jasper stayed in the library, and Bela fluttered between each room. Distinctly avoiding both her parents and her wives who had apparently teamed up to try and get her to talk one on one with Vacante. Something she was not prepared to do. 

Bela sighed and slumped down in a chair hidden within the garden’s maze. 

She had been told of the strange nurse and his affinity for appearing near or around the garden of the estate, but found herself drawn there for some peculiar reason. 

She had started sleepwalking, though this was a fact she had been able to - surprisingly - keep hidden. 

But each time she awoke, she found herself there, in the middle of the garden. With the fleeting thought that there had been someone else with her. 

She told no one of this, for there was no need to worry anyone. She could handle herself. Of this she was sure. 

Either way, she found herself in the garden now. The twilight stars shining down on her, illuminating her figure among the darkened branches of the garden maze. Far away she could hear the sound of a brook running through the forest, a soft trickle of water. It was comforting, and she would have fallen asleep if not for the sound of a hissing voice. 

“You may think you are above me. But let me remind you, that you still revived me just to take her down.” 

Bela startled at the sound and peeked at her surroundings, no sign of the speaker nearby. And then-

Shifting shadows, a silhouette formed nearby. Bela ducked underneath a rose bush and hid as she caught sight of a man walking by her. Pale skin, scar covered, the nurse. 

She held a hand over her mouth to stifle her breathing as he paused in front of the bush she hid within.

He was talking to someone, a figure with needle point legs. Many legs. Several of them. The figure had a harsh voice, like swords screeching against one another, metal on metal. 

“Yes, I did revive you. But let’s not forget that I did it because of your own sloppy work. After all, it was your arrogance that caused The Universe to break free.” 

The man growled and Bela shifted, was this…

 

Pale skin, scarred from his attempt to control her, from his death by Void’s hands. Bright yellow eyes, like lantern light, and soft brown hair like the earth. His clothes were simple, a white robe with a golden rope tied around his waist. 

Him.

The Warlock.

…

Bela rushed into the house in a panic, the doors flying open before her and she dove inside and locked them shut. Her breaths were quick, near desperate pants as she remembered what she had seen, what she had heard.

The Warlock had returned.

He was back.

For her.

And she…

She didn't know what to do.

She wasn't defenseless, not by any means.

Nor was she alone.

But that's how it was before.

And he still trapped her.

Would he do it again?

Would he succeed in controlling her this time? 

Bela didn't know, she didn't want to know. 

She ran through the halls quickly, moving with desperation to find something to hold onto. It came in the form of a figure. Jasper.

She ran, quite literally, into the taller man. He caught her as she stumbled and looked at her with concerned eyes. 

“Bela? What;s wrong?” 

“The-The warlock, it's him, he’s here, he’s trying to trap me again!” 

“Wha- Bela, slow down.” 

“I heard him, he was here, that damned nurse in disguise!”

“The nurse, you ran into him?” 

“Keep up! He's not a nurse, it's the warlock!’ 

“The warlock?” 

“The one that trapped me in a mortal body!”

Jasper paused and his eyes narrowed.

“Shit!”

He moved swiftly, keeping a hand over her shoulder as they raced down the halls. The group woke rather quickly, to the knocks of the pair and their desperate cries. Now gathered in the foyer, the group consisting of Thea, Vacante, Jasper, Rowan, Johnny, and Ian, waited for Bela to tell them all her tale.

She spoke quickly and as it ended she declared something that seemed to shock Jasper to his core.

“He said he’s going to walk the road again to trap me. We have to beat him to the end.” 

—

Chapter 56: fifty six

Chapter by Honeydrrop

“The road?”

“The Twilight Road, or well, better known as the Wishing Trail.” 

“Let me guess, you get to the end you get a wish?”

“You get your greatest desire fulfilled, yes.” 

Johnny sighed and put his head into his right hand, already he could feel a headache forming at the idea of this trip. Now, make no mistake, he was fully willing to help by going about this adventure, but he’d have to do it with this damned roadblock between him and Ian. 

The thought sent his heart spiraling in misery, he ignored it. 

“How do we get there?” 

Rowan’s voice was an arrow piercing through the storm of Jonny’s mind, sending him back into the present. Right, the road. Focus on the road. Not Ian. 

Still, his mind couldn't help but wander. 

…

Bela hesitated to answer Rowan’s question, the minds of everyone around her were loud and confusing. Loud enough that she couldn't tell if someone was talking or thinking. She was forced to look at everyone’s lips to see which it was. 

The storms around her, the fluctuating emotions, Bela felt them as though they were her own. A fragmented skill of telepathy was empathy. And curse her powers for Bela now had to deal with the confusion and heartbreak of not only herself but four other people. 

Distracted as she was by the demanding thoughts around her, she had not noticed when Rowan moved and tugged at her arm. Her eyes snapped over to his, focused and clear now. 

“How do we get to the road?”

Bela shook her head and focused on him, trying her best to block out the thoughts of all those around her, sending them far away, making them muddy and indistinct. 

“I suppose it’s rather simple, we just have to find the door.” 

“What door?”

“The door.”

“You say this like I’m supposed to know what it means.” 

“Okay, so, like, it’s a door, and it's going to be on the road outside.” 

“WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!”

Bela sighed and moved to open the doors to the house, the ones leading to the path outside. 

“Just look down as we walk, It'll catch your eye.” 

…

The road was dark but bright in equal measure. A permanent twilight landscape with twinkling purple stars. The stars shone upon blue and turquoise flora and fauna. Midnight colored bark trees with sparkling crystal leaves. The fallen leaves turned to brittle glass as they fell, crunching underneath the feet of travelers. 

Each member carried with them a small lantern, given by Zina who had vowed to keep their little adventure a secret from the family, lest they try and follow the group to stop them. 

The pathway was quiet, each member tense and waiting for the door Bela had spoken of, gazing at the dirt and leaf covered trail beneath them. As of yet there was no door, and Bela continued to hum a strange ballad under her breath. A lilting and twisting tune that seemed to follow the confusing path before them. 

Ravens cawed within the shadows but could not be seen, strange animals growled and chittered within the darkness. Sometimes creatures of the night could be seen along the edge of the pathway, a threat that it was far more dangerous to stray than it was to follow. 

As the group seemed to lose hope of finding the door, a strange creak resounded beneath Jasper’s feet. He stopped from where he stood near the front of the group and peered down, catching sight of brass handles beneath the broken leaves. 

“I think…”

The group turned to look at him as he crouched down and began to push leaves away from the door, darkness encroached upon the path the clearer the door became and soon enough it was void of light save for the lanterns each member carried.

“Well, here it is.”

Bela’s announcement cut through the tense gazes each member bestowed upon the wooden doors, and as she set her lantern down to open the handles she looked rather solemnly upon her gathered companions. 

“Let’s see who's first.” 

The doors opened and revealed a stone staircase that wound into an abyss, a tunnel of sorts. Bela stepped down first, hands against the stone carved and vine covered walls beside the staircase. Thea and Vacante followed her without hesitation, bearing their lanterns before them. Rowan and Johnny moved next, glancing behind them at their partners as they went. Ian and Jasper followed lastly, Jasper reaching up to close the doors behind them and a resounding slam followed the movement. 

Darkness fell, the lanterns were their only light and as the stairs crumbled to dust beneath them sending them falling upon a soft surface of which they could not see, Jasper felt a brief sense of dread that maybe he would be the first. 

Chapter 57: fifty seven

Chapter by Honeydrrop

A blinding, radiant light overtook Jasper’s vision, forcing him to close his eyes and brace for impact. He felt a disorienting rush, like he was plummeting through endless space, but when he landed, it was gentle, as though unseen hands had softened his fall.

“Ugh…where am… I?” he muttered, rubbing his head and squinting at his surroundings. He found himself engulfed in a vast, empty void, shimmering with a pale, endless white—a place hauntingly familiar, similar to the realm where he’d once met Cirro and Elias.

 The memory brought a slight frown to his face. Jasper spun around, trying to call out for anyone else who might be there, but his voice seemed to be swallowed by the silence, and no one answered. 

A pang of loneliness struck him, and he wished, with all his heart, that Rowan were here to ground him. But he couldn’t linger on that thought—he had to focus.

His eyes scanned the featureless expanse until they fell on the only thing that broke the monotony: a door. Its deep, rich purple stood out sharply against the white, almost as if it had been painted with shadows from another realm. Intricate constellations and symbols, artfully engraved into its surface, seemed to glow softly, and names of Latin astronomers adorned its edges like a celestial map. At the door’s center, a golden emblem caught Jasper’s eye.

Engraved in bold lettering, it read:

Jasper Nova
Nine of Cups
A lesson in accepting when things don't go our way.

Jasper tilted his head, studying the inscription. He knew of the Nine of Cups from tarot, a card of fulfillment and wishes coming true, but what lesson was it referring to? Was this some sort of test or challenge he was meant to face alone?

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself. There was no other choice, no other path forward. He reached for the door, his fingers brushing over the cool gold of the knob. With a slight turn, he felt the lock release, and the door eased open, beckoning him into whatever lay beyond.

-

Jasper opened his eyes to find himself standing in an expanse of the universe. Stars stretched endlessly around him, the Milky Way spiraling in breathtaking detail, like a cosmic sea of light. It was a scene that had always captivated him, but it only gave him pain now. 

 

The vastness seemed cold, foreboding. He took a step forward, jolting as the door behind him slammed shut, the echo ringing through the silent stars. His nerves felt frayed, tense, as he glanced around, taking in the eerie quiet.

A haunting melody drifted through the air—Clair de Lune, played on an old piano. His heart skipped a beat. That was his mother’s song, the lullaby she’d once played for him. Now, it only heightened his discomfort, the once soothing tune warped by the hollowness of the space. Jasper’s posture grew rigid, each step heavy as he ventured deeper into the expanse.

 

Ahead, a mirror emerged, gliding toward him as if drawn by his presence. He stopped, staring at its polished surface, a strange unease settling over him.

 

“A mirror…” he murmured, studying his reflection.

 “This has to be a challenge.”

His eyes scanned his own image, and a sense of vulnerability crept in. He took in the dark shadows under his eyes—marks of countless sleepless nights—and the scars that marred his skin, reminders of that day . Seeing himself like this made him want to turn away, but something strange happened: a shift on the glass. He blinked, and his reflection had changed.

 

Staring back at him was

 his final form.

“So… we meet again,” came a voice, low and echoing from the depths of the mirror. Jasper’s eyes widened, and he took a step back.

 

“Not… not you…” 

he whispered, his fists clenching.

 

The figure looked at Jasper, wisps of cosmic stars surrounded him. His eyes squinted, watching him intently.

“Welcome…this is a mirror, Jasper. What you see is yourself,” the figure said coolly.

 

Jasper scoffed, shaking his head. 

 

“Sure, maybe a funhouse mirror, but—”

 

The figure stepped closer to the surface, its liquid form rippling as it moved. 

 

“Jasper Nova… you have to accept yourself. Every part of you.”

 

“I am you, you are me”

 

Anger surged in Jasper’s chest. He shook his head, his face twisting in defiance.

 

 “This is me?! No, no, I…I look horrifying. I can’t… this isn’t me.” 

 

His voice trembled as he spoke, fists clenched so tightly they shook. The figure watched in silence, its eyes filled with a patience that only deepened Jasper’s frustration.

 

“Maybe I… killed a few in that form,” he admitted, his voice softer, haunted. “Traumatized others… my family… my friends…”

 

The figure leaned forward, voice barely a whisper. 

 

“Rowan?”

 

“He still loves you Jasper…they all do-”

 

A chill ran through Jasper as the music corrupted, notes clanging off-key in a discordant crescendo. His breath caught in his throat, his voice rising in anguish.

 

“HE DOESN’T LOVE ME BECAUSE I’M A MONSTER!” 

 

The words tore out of him as he slammed his fists into the mirror, watching the figure’s face shatter into a web of cracks. Splinters of his own reflection stared back, each one capturing a fragment of his rage and sorrow, as his own broken gaze reflected from every fractured angle.

 

“ I DON'T CARE IF THEY HATE ME BUT TO SEE ROWAN’S FACE LIKE THAT …to see…the look of horror…”

 

Drips of purple blood splattered onto the starry ground, each drop sending small ripples across the endless void. Jasper’s breathing quickened, his chest heaving as tears welled in his eyes, blurring the cracked reflection before him.

 

“T-this can’t be… I can’t… I’m a monster. A monster that destroys everything I love…” he choked, his voice breaking as the shame and self-loathing tangled in his throat.

 

But then, through the cracks of the shattered mirror, a familiar voice echoed softly, steady and warm.

 

 “Did I teach you that, my son?”

 

Jasper’s head snapped up, his tear-streaked face reflected against the shifting form of his father. The figure’s gaze was firm but filled with an unexpected gentleness.

 

“You hated me, Dad… ever since I turned like this!” 

 

Jasper cried out, his voice thick with hurt. Memories of rejection and isolation rose to the surface, each one sharper than the last.

A long pause lingered in the air.

 

 “I… I didn’t know how to react,” his father said, the admission laced with a pain of its own.

The face shifted again, this time revealing his sister’s gentle eyes. 

“I was somewhat wrong to push you away.”

And then, another transformation—a soft smile he would know anywhere, a voice that was like a warm embrace. 

 

“We always… loved you, my star,” his mother’s reflection said, her words like a balm to the scars on his heart.

 

Jasper felt his knees buckle as he sank to the ground, his hands clutching at his chest. He let out a scream of anguish, years of buried sorrow and guilt erupting from him, raw and unstoppable. The reflections watched in silence, their expressions sorrowful yet understanding, as if bearing witness to the pieces of himself he had long tried to hide.

 

For the first time, Jasper let himself feel it all, the love he’d thought lost and the pain he’d held onto for so long. And in that moment, he began to feel something he had not felt in years—a flicker of forgiveness, one that started, quietly, within himself.

 

“These are the true feelings of the people around you…” the figure said, its voice gentle but firm. 

 

“If you want to understand how they feel about you, you have to listen. Really listen. Or else you risk breaking anything good left in your life.”

Jasper, with his tear-stained face, looked up, his vision still blurred by the tears he’d been holding back for so long. Standing before him was what he saw first. It reached out, almost hesitantly, as though unsure if Jasper would take it.

 

“Jasper… you need to accept all versions of yourself. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the terrifying. You have so many people supporting you. You’re not alone.”

 

Jasper’s heart ached as he listened, his breath shaky, but he forced himself to rise. Slowly, he lifted his hand, reaching out to grasp the hand that waited for him—a piece of himself he had tried so long to bury, yet one that had always been there, waiting for acceptance. His fingers closed around the cold, stardust-laden hand.

 

“Jasper Nova… what will you do now?”

 

The mirror rippled like water, and a familiar figure appeared—Rowan, standing in the same void, his face pale with fear, eyes searching for something, someone. The sight of Rowan, alone and uncertain, struck Jasper like a dagger to the heart, and something inside him clicked, as if all his scattered pieces had finally come together.

 

“He’s always been by my side,” 

Jasper murmured, his voice choked with emotion.

 “No matter what happened. When I died, when I was lost, every single time I was scared… he loved me. And I pushed him away. I was so terrified of hurting him, of being the thing that would destroy him…” 

Jasper’s voice trailed off as he clutched his chest, the weight of his own guilt finally breaking free.

He lifted his gaze, determination hardening his features as he faced the mirror.

 

 “I am not a monster. And Rowan… he’d never be afraid of me. He loves me, all of me!” Jasper’s voice grew stronger, conviction filling every word. 

 

“I will make this right. I promise.”

 

The mirror rippled again, showing Jasper’s final form stepping forward—a shimmering figure woven from stars and shadows. It passed through the surface like a ghost and, as it reached him, fused into his own body, filling him with a rush of warmth, power, and acceptance. He felt complete, whole for the first time in ages.

 

“Thank you…” a soft whisper echoed, as if coming from deep within his soul.

 

Clair de lune returned to normal, sounding softer as Jasper smiled.

The room brightened, and comets streaked across the void, filling the space with trails of stardust that swirled and sparkled. A winding path of glowing stars stretched out before him, leading onward.

 Jasper took a deep breath, his heart steady, and stepped forward with confidence, the path of stars lighting his way as everything around him faded into pure, radiant white.

In starlit depths, he faced his fear,
A fractured soul he held so near.
With trembling hands, he met his gaze,
A self once lost in darkened haze.

Through mirrors cracked, the truth unveiled,
A heart once broken, scarred, and frail.
Yet love endured, a light unshown,
And found its strength to call him home.

Now stardust bound, his shadow tamed,
He walks the path that fear once claimed.
A promise held, a heart made whole,
Jasper reborn—a fearless soul.

Jasper nova has completed the trial

—

Chapter 58: fifty eight

Chapter by Honeydrrop

Ian wandered, lost in thought as he approached the shadows that, for once, were not his own.

 

It startled him, being engulfed by something so foreign.

 

When he was able to breathe, he looked around for Johnny. No Johnny.

 

Had he fled?

 

Were those shadows his own?

The void-like mist began to dissipate, clearing Ian’s vision to reveal a forest, much like the one he grew up in.

 

But it was all wrong. The trees weren’t right, they were almost inverted.

 

He looked for the carved tree, the one Johnny and he had decorated when they were little. The little J+I etched into the bark. 

 

Instead he found himself at a stump. The flesh of the tree, ringlets etched with full sentences.

 

Ian Lenor. IX WANDS

 

Why give up at the finish line, Lenor?

 

Why break away, why delay your success, Lenor?

 

Why not wait, Lenor?

 

Wait.

 

Ian huffed, this looked like Johnny’s carvings, but he never said anything like this.

 

He despised the last name. Never understood why.

 

Trying to ignore the tree stump, he wandered further into a clearing within the forest, similar to the one from his memories.

 

It glowed the same ethereal blue, iridescent against the midnight terrain.

 

But what was new was the figure within it.

 

He barely recognized her, someone from his days training in the war. Long pitch black hair, seemingly blue in the light of the water. Naked, singing. 

 

She hadn’t noticed his presence yet. Would she still recognize him?

 

Would she hate him?

 

He decided to turn around. Leave her be.

 

She noticed.

 

Ian whipped his head around at the sound of splashing water, met with the sight of three glowing purple stingers aiming straight at him. Instead of stinging the way he knew Sirens did, they coiled around him and dragged him into the water.

 

Her eyes were different. The purple markings on blue skin the same.

 

He couldn’t breathe. Everything felt so suffocating, Ian just wanted to leave.

 

Why give up at the finish line, Lenor?

 

A hissing voice, somehow whispering and shrieking simultaneously.

 

Lenor, don’t you have any confidence? Don’t you have any patience, Lenor?

 

Why did these voices sound so familiar? One sounded so angry . The other was strangely gentle.

 

Ian didn’t realize how far she’d been pulling him down, not before he surfaced on the other side of the creek.

 

Like he was upside down.

 

The whole experience was dizzying, but Ian was eager to get out of the water. Surely this couldn’t—

 

Counting money.

 

Golden eyes, furrowed brows. Stark against the black eyes boring holes into the other set.

 

Desperate, coy. Angry, serene.

 

Brown hair. Ian touched his own, barely processing the sight before him.

 

I can assure you, they don’t want an abomination. Fuck, they’d be lucky he lives past five anyway. 

 

Oh? So why would this be of any value to me?

 

Because you don’t need to get attached. If he dies, he dies. But if he’s powerful, then…well, he’s all yours, no?

 

The beads clinked as hair swayed. Baby hands reaching out for anything to take hold of.

 

She outstretched the baby in her arms. Ian couldn’t see his face, but the baby’s skin was much like her own. Haunting.

 

A terribly ominous smile across pale skin, accompanied by nearly dead eyes as he took the child in his arms.

 

And what is it you wanted? I could simply cure your ailment—

 

No. I want people to understand.

 

Understand? I’m not following, Trinity.

 

They fucking hate me, you know. Think I’m contagious, think I’m gonna murder them or something. I want them to see that my touch doesn’t do that. I want them to see that it does worse.

 

Worse. Hmm…

 

Surely you can—

 

I’m capable of more than you can imagine, Trinity. I can assure you.

 

I want them all to understand.

 

But, this would be a tall price. This is your brother, after all.

 

He’ll be fine. Or dead. We’re not supposed to get attached, anyway.

 

Not supposed to?

 

The Kingdom’s advisors say so. He’s a lost cause to the Royals.

 

A Royal…

 

He’s a lost cause, Malik. Don’t let that get to your head.

 

Oh, but if he survives…

 

That’s a harsh if.

 

Does he suffer the same fate as you?

 

She, Trinity, paused. She looked offended. Hurt. 

 

No. That’s probably better.

 

Why do you say he’ll die?

 

Oh, come on, don’t you know? Wrath and Greed, those Sins don’t mix. And with a Soul Eater, he’s bound to die.

 

Oh, Trinity. You say that’s a better fate…

 

It’s quicker.

 

I suppose. 

 

Malik thought for a moment. Lavender hair bending like silk as he tilted his head. Something Ian was reminded of constantly in Johnny’s gaze. He never thought it correlated to something.

 

Wait.

 

Was that baby…

 

I suppose he will suffice as payment. I’ll see what I can do with him. 

 

Will you give me what I want?

 

And what is it that you want?

 

Trinity thought for a moment. It scared Ian greatly.

 

I want to be able to show people what it’s like to lose control of your own body. To bend to someone else’s will. I want it to feel like the very blood coursing through them is not their own.

 

Blood manipulation magic? Is that all?

 

Can you do it or not?

 

That coy smile. So unsettling, yet strangely a comfort to Ian.

 

He hated it.

 

Of course I can, Princess Lenor.

 

Malik turned his head. Brought dead eyes to meet Ian’s wide ones.

 

You will be useful. You will do great things, Ian.

 

Be good.

 

A blink. Everything before him, gone.

 

Now in an upright forest. His home.

 

What was all of that?

 

God, he just wanted Johnny right now.

 

He’d have to wait, though. Johnny was nowhere in sight. 

 

He missed him dearly.

 

He wandered aimlessly through the forest now, weaving through familiar paths as comfort. He faintly smelled apples around him.

 

And one fell right into his hand. Muscle memory, he figured.

 

He looked at it for a time. Sure, apples all were pretty similar, but this felt like deja vu. 

 

And sure enough, the feeling only got worse.

 

Before him was a tiny Johnny, clearly rife with hunger, innocence in his pleading eyes. His hair ruffled around, his clothes tattered.

 

Oh, he was so tiny. Just how he remembered.

 

Ian bent down to meet Johnny’s level as best as he could. Offered him the entire apple, unpunctured. Soul still intact, unlike how they met.

 

Johnny deserved the best, after all.

 

Johnny took the apple happily, beaming up at Ian with missing teeth. He was so happy. He looked at Ian with such love.

 

The same way he looked at him now.

 

It clicked then. How Johnny’s eyes never faltered. How it was always the same look.

 

Even when he wasn’t right. When he was violent, when he was bruised and battered.

 

His vision began to blur as he watched Johnny eat the apple, tears threatening to spill.

 

They did. And Johnny, as tiny as he was, as hungry and vulnerable as he was, wiped them away with small hands. He giggled in between bites of the apple, beads of juice from the fruit trickling down his chin. Ian wiped them away as he ate, hand so large in comparison to the baby before him. 

 

He loved Johnny so much. He never saw him as a monster, even like this, even as a child with raw emotions unhindered by society.

 

So why would he now?

 

Johnny dropped the core of the apple, now stripped of its flesh, and tugged at Ian with sticky hands. Ian followed him, careful not to take a step too big for Johnny’s little legs to keep up with. 

 

Back through the forest, back into foreign patterns…

 

Back to the stump. 

 

The words that were once etched onto the stump were replaced by ones scorched into it with neat cursive.

 

Be good. You’ll do great things.

 

A strange comfort alongside that gapped smile. 

 

Ian felt along the rings of the stump, jolting when his touch gave way as though the tree was liquid. He looked over at Johnny, who was waiting eagerly for him to do something about the stump.

 

“Am I supposed to go through here?”

 

Johnny nodded wordlessly, giddy with excitement. It made Ian’s heart wrench.

 

Ian ruffled the baby’s hair. Gave his forehead a kiss goodbye. 

 

“See you on the other side, J.J..”

 

He went through the tree stump, back onto the road. 

 

Huh.

 

That part didn’t feel so suffocating.

 

Ian Lenor has completed the trial.

 

***

Chapter 59: fifty nine

Chapter by Honeydrrop

"Where the hell am I?" Rowan groaned, his voice raspy as he scratched the back of his head, trying to shake off the grogginess clouding his mind. He struggled to piece together how he’d ended up here—his last memory was of the staircase crumbling beneath him, sending him plummeting into darkness. Now, he found himself in an entirely different place, disoriented and surrounded by the sweet, almost intoxicating scent of flowers.

"Poppies?" his favorite flower.

He looked down to dust himself off, he realized he was standing in the middle of a sprawling field of vibrant red poppies, their delicate petals fluttering in a gentle breeze.

Directly in front of him stood a single, imposing door. Painted a deep crimson. The door's polished golden handle gleamed in the sunlight, and just above it, a brass emblem was affixed, intricately engraved with words that made his stomach twist.

Rowan Cleaver
Six of Swords
The process of healing and transition, a passage from the past to a brighter future.

Rowan scoffed, crossing his arms as he rolled his eyes.

 "Healing? Really?" he muttered, unimpressed. He had been through therapy already—he was done with that. Whatever cosmic force thought he needed more "healing" clearly didn't know him. Annoyed, he looked around for any other way out, but there was nothing but the endless field of flowers, a soft carpet of poppy petals drifting in the air like red-tinted snowflakes.

"Fine, fine," he grumbled, defeated. "I'll play your mind games."

Reluctantly, Rowan grasped the golden handle, the metal cool against his palm as he gave it a firm jiggle. With a low creak, the door swung open, revealing a shrouded pathway beyond. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through, feeling the pull of whatever journey lay on the other side.

Before Rowan walked into the darkness, he glanced back to see the flowers wilting.

“wha-”

 Before he could escape, a pair of hands pulled him forcefully inside, the door slamming shut.

 

Rowan opened his eyes, blinking against the soft dappling of light filtering through dense, familiar trees. His heart skipped a beat as he took in his surroundings—the towering, twisted trunks, the thick carpet of moss covering every stone, and the strange silence that blanketed the air. This wasn’t just any forest; it was the holy grounds back home, an ancient, sacred space that few dared to enter. Rumored to be the birthplace of their kind.

He frowned, tension settling into his brow. Why here? Why had he been brought back to this place of all places? The air felt heavy, dense with a power he could almost taste, and he instinctively held his breath, as though afraid to disturb whatever lay dormant in these woods.

Rowan took a cautious step forward, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. Around him, rocks and immense stones lay half-buried in the moss, their rough surfaces etched with faded, unreadable symbols. 

“Rowan... Cleaver,” 

A deep, resonant voice boomed from the heavens, shaking Rowan to his core. He jolted, looking around wildly as the ground beneath him began to glow with an ethereal yellow light. The mossy earth pulsed in rhythmic waves, sending ripples of energy outward that illuminated the ancient symbols on the rocks and trees.

"This is the birthplace of our kind, where we first emerged as Mushes," the voice continued, 

Rowan’s heart pounded as he watched intricate symbols begin to carve themselves into the ground in a circle around him, forming an elaborate pattern that seemed both protective and binding.

"But you," the voice intoned, softer now yet imbued with warmth, "you are different. You are special, Rowan. We love you as one of our own, but we feel the weight you carry—the burdens you've shouldered alone, my son."

Rowan swallowed hard, his hands balling into fists as the words settled heavily within him. The glowing symbols intensified, flickering like flames.

 

"This is a trial," the voice declared

"You must face these burdens head-on, and through them, find the path to healing."

Rowan groaned, his head throbbing as his surroundings began to distort, the once-familiar holy grounds melting into a blur of color. Above him, the sky was awash in blinding white light, erasing the trees, stones, and moss until there was nothing left but an endless void of white.

“Good luck… Rowan,” the voice echoed one final time, fading into silence as the light swallowed everything around him.

And then, all was white.

 

Rowan’s vision flickered, cycling through blinding white, suffocating black, then back to white again. When he finally opened his eyes, he felt disoriented, his senses scrambled. Everything seemed...bigger. The white ground felt closer. He looked down at his hands and froze, his heart pounding as he realized he was staring at his own smaller, younger hands. His clothes were too big, his body smaller, more vulnerable.

A surge of panic gripped him as he struggled to understand what was happening, trying to piece together the strange voice’s cryptic words from earlier. Then his eyes landed on a figure standing before him—a tall man clad in armor, black waves of hair spilling from beneath his chainmail.

“J-Jasper?” 

The armored man stepped closer, his face obscured by shadows, yet his presence was unmistakably familiar. He held a sword in his hand, its blade glinting with an ominous light.

“Rowan,” the man intoned, his voice somber and heavy, “you carry six burdens. Each of them must be faced, no matter how painful.”

Rowan took an instinctive step back, an awkward laugh slipping past his lips as he tried to shake off the rising dread. But the armored figure advanced, his eyes fixed on Rowan with unwavering intensity.

“Are you ready to face them,” Jasper continued, “or will you live on in ignorance, clinging to the comfort of denial?” He halted, waiting for Rowan’s answer.

Rowan’s breath caught as he weighed his options. He didn’t want to face these things, not really. But he knew he didn’t have a choice, not here, not now. With a shaky exhale, he nodded. 

“...Yes,” he whispered, bracing himself, fists clenched at his sides.

Without another word, Jasper raised the sword high, its blade shimmering as it pointed toward the sky. “Feel the weight of your childhood trauma,” he declared, his voice like thunder. “For these wounds still haunt you, hidden but never healed.”

Rowan’s eyes widened as the sword plunged downward, piercing straight into his smaller form. He gasped, expecting sharp pain, but instead he felt a crushing weight settle inside him, as if an invisible anchor had chained itself to his heart.

Memories flooded his mind, each one striking like a blow.

“Weirdo!”
“Freak!”
“Stay away from him!”
“This isn’t meant for your kind.”
“You were not supposed to e x i s t.”

The voices clawed at him, tearing through his defenses, and he stumbled under the invisible weight of it all. His breaths came in shallow gasps, struggling to hold back the torrent of emotions that surged forward, unbidden.

When his vision cleared, he looked down to see the sword still embedded in him, its hilt engraved with a single word: Childhood.

Rowan’s gaze drifted up to meet Jasper’s, his face contorted with the effort of holding himself together, of keeping from breaking under the burden he’d carried for so long.

Blink.

Rowan was himself again—back to his adult form, his body steadier, his senses sharper. But Jasper was still there, standing just a few feet away, dressed not in armor but in his usual clothes. There was something both familiar and distant about him, like he was both there and not, a memory made real yet somehow intangible.

Rowan’s heart twisted painfully. He loved Jasper deeply, more than anyone else. But after the past few weeks, after the silence, the gaps in their conversations, the creeping distance between them, he felt confused, unsure. And as he took a tentative step closer, Jasper moved back, mirroring his movements in reverse, always one step further away.

“You have the fear of abandonment,” Jasper’s voice echoed, calm yet cutting. “The fear that I will leave you, and others will follow.”

Rowan froze, a tear slipping down his cheek as Jasper stepped toward him. The words hit like a blade to his heart, slicing through his defenses. He didn’t want this. He wasn’t ready to confront the haunting dread that lingered in every quiet moment, every unspoken thought. His throat tightened as he fought back the urge to scream, to run.

In Jasper’s hand, a sword materialized, its silver gleam cold and merciless. He pressed the tip gently against Rowan’s stomach, and Rowan felt his pulse quicken, fear clawing at him.

“A fear most common,” Jasper murmured, his tone laced with a sorrow that cut deep, “but it haunts you to d e a t h.”

The sword plunged forward, and Rowan gasped, feeling not pain but an unbearable weight settle deep within his chest. It was heavier, suffocating, pressing down on him like the very air around him had thickened. His shoulders slumped, his legs trembled as a flood of memories washed over him.

Flashes of Jasper turning away, his hand slipping from Rowan’s grasp. Scenes of Bela looking through him as if he was a stranger, a ghost. The faces of his friends and family, all slowly fading to white, leaving him alone, stranded in an endless void.

“NOOO!” 

Blink.

When his vision cleared, he saw his hands wrapped around a hilt, a sword pointed forward, and… and Jasper was at the other end. Rowan’s heart stopped, cold dread surging through him as he tried to pull back, his breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps.

“W-wait—no, no—please!” he stammered, desperately trying to release the weapon, but the sword stayed fixed in place. He could only watch as Jasper’s eyes softened, his body crumpling as the blade drove deeper.

“No,” Rowan whispered, horror-stricken as Jasper collapsed, leaving Rowan’s hands empty and trembling, stained with the weight of the act he hadn’t wanted to commit.

And then—more flashes, more memories: Jasper, lying still, lifeless. Bela, gone, her smile just a memory. One by one, every face Rowan loved and cherished disappearing, leaving him in an endless abyss of silence and loneliness. The horror crashed over him, wave after relentless wave, as he struggled to breathe, to stay upright, his heart shattered into countless pieces.

Blink.

Rowan’s vision blurred with fresh tears as he fought to steady himself, his body trembling under the weight of the mounting burdens. He struggled to stand, only to find two figures looming over him this time, their expressions unreadable yet oddly smug.

“Ohhh, he’s crying, Elias,” one of them remarked, a mocking lilt in his voice.

“I can see that, Cirro,” the other replied with equal amusement.

Rowan grit his teeth, a low growl escaping him as he looked up at the two gods, Elias and Cirro, both wearing identical, knowing smirks. Their presence only fanned the fire in his chest, making his heart pound with anger—anger directed entirely at them, the ones who had toyed with his fate, who seemed to find his suffering amusing.

“Rowan,” they said in unison, their voices an eerie, harmonious blend that made his skin crawl. “You carry rage in your body. Rage toward us, specifically.”

Two swords appeared in their hands—one glowing yellow, the other black as night. Rowan’s vision spun, his mind reeling as he felt the weight of their words press down on him, as if gravity itself were tightening its grip, threatening to crush him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“The rage for being created like this,” they continued, their words slicing through him as sharply as any blade.

In one swift motion, they plunged the swords into him, piercing his very soul. Rowan fell to his knees, gasping as a burning sensation spread through his body, scorching every fiber of his being. His mind was assaulted with memories, each one carrying a cruel whisper.

“You were a mistake. A glitch in the system.”
“You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“Erasure may be possible.”

The words echoed, vicious and relentless, filling him with a searing anger and a profound sense of rejection that made his heart ache. He opened his mouth to scream, to rail against them, but no sound came out. Only silent sobs shook his shoulders, the weight of their mockery and his own fury crushing him further.

Blink.

Rowan's body felt broken, his spirit even more so. He could no longer stand, barely able to lift himself as he crawled forward, each inch feeling like dragging himself through quicksand. His vision spun with fragments of memories, shifting scenes that haunted him, spiraling like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

Then he saw them—three familiar faces, clear and vivid against the foggy backdrop. Bela, Johnny, and Jasper stood before him, their eyes fixed on him with expressions that twisted his heart.

“Rowan, c’mon!” Bela’s voice broke through his haze, panicked, urgent. “We need your help, we’ve got to save everyone!” Her hands were clenched, desperation painting her face.

“Please, Rowan!” Johnny echoed, his voice raw with pleading. “We can’t do this alone—we need you!” Jasper nodded in solemn agreement, his gaze heavy with expectation.

Rowan reached out, his arm trembling, but it felt like lifting a mountain. His hand dropped limply back to the ground, the weight of all he carried crushing him. He shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes. 

“I… I can’t,” he whispered, his voice breaking with shame.

They exchanged glances, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them. Then Bela scoffed, her face hardening as she looked down at him.

 “Well, I guess we don’t need you anymore. We can always find someone else…” Her words cut deeper than any sword as she turned away, her form starting to fade.

Johnny followed, shaking his head with an air of disappointment that felt like a knife twisting in Rowan’s chest.

 “We’ll figure it out without you, Rowan.”

“W-wait…” Rowan choked, desperation clawing up his throat as he reached out in a futile attempt to grasp them, his voice barely above a broken whisper.

His gaze shifted to Jasper, his last remaining lifeline, hoping to see some flicker of forgiveness, of understanding. But Jasper’s face was a mask of profound disappointment, his eyes distant, resigned.

“I had more faith in you,” Jasper said softly, another sword plunging into him.

 Rowan’s vision blurred, his heart shattering under the weight of that quiet condemnation. Then Jasper turned, following the others as they faded into whiteness, leaving Rowan alone in the void.

Rowan’s sobs echoed into the emptiness, each tear marking the silent ache of his failures, his isolation. 

Blink.

Silence. An unsettling stillness surrounded Rowan, broken only by his ragged breaths as he lay there, feeling hollowed out and emptied. He didn’t know how much more he could endure, how many more burdens he had to face before this trial would finally end.

But then he looked up—and his heart stopped.

It was him. But not just any version of himself.

It was him on that darkest night, the night Jasper had… the night he’d lost him.

The figure stood above him, a hollow shell of who he once was, clad in Jasper’s loose sweater that hung on his frame like a ghostly shroud. Long, unkempt hair fell around his haunted eyes, and his hands were bound with thorns

 And there, around his neck, faint yet unmistakable

the bruised imprints of a rope.

Rowan’s stomach twisted in horror. No, no, not this. Not this memory. His chest tightened as panic clawed at him, bile rising in his throat as he stared, helplessly, at the shattered version of himself.

“I’m… so… tired,” the other Rowan whispered, his voice a thin, broken rasp. He knelt down beside Rowan’s prone form, his body trembling as tears slipped from his hollow eyes, each drop a reminder of the nights Rowan had spent in the depths of grief, on the verge of breaking.

A shudder wracked Rowan’s body as he felt the pain radiating from his other self, raw and visceral, the agony of that unbearable loss washing over him like a wave he couldn’t escape.

“I’m… sorry,” the other Rowan sobbed, his voice hitching as he brought his hand to Rowan's side. A slender fencing sword pierced through him.

And then, as suddenly as he’d appeared, the other Rowan began to fade, his form dissolving like mist, leaving Rowan alone, his hand reaching out to grasp only empty air. The weight of the sorrow, the helplessness, and the terrible loneliness pressed down on him, suffocating and unyielding.

Rowan curled into himself, lying on the endless white floor, feeling as though his spirit had shattered into a thousand unrecognizable pieces. Each burden weighed him down, filling his heart with emotions too overwhelming to untangle—regret, shame, grief, rage, fear—all swirling together, threatening to crush him. He felt as though he could dissolve right here, alone in this infinite emptiness.

How could he possibly heal from this? It felt too much, too heavy, too... 

“Hopeless?” A voice echoed, with a tenderness that made his breath hitch.

“M-Mom?” Rowan’s voice cracked, raw and barely audible. He lifted his head, eyes widening as he strained to hear her. He didn’t see her, but her presence surrounded him, a comforting warmth that settled the storm within.

“You were always so critical on yourself, Rowan,” Maia’s voice murmured, soft yet laced with knowing. “And I don’t blame you. To see this much weight on you… it’s a lot, my magna flamma. ” She laughed, that gentle, familiar laugh he’d held in his heart all these years.

A small, fragile smile crept onto Rowan’s face as he listened.

“But remember what I always said,” her voice continued, steady and unwavering. “You are a strong, courageous, bright person. You are loved more than you think, Rowan.”

Her voice softened, fading slowly, yet her final words echoed with a gentle conviction that lingered in the quiet space.

“Believe in yourself.”

The silence returned, but it was softer now, almost peaceful. Rowan let Maia’s words wash over him, closing his eyes as he took a shaky breath. He didn’t know how to begin healing, but he knew his mother had always believed in him, seen his strength even when he doubted himself. And maybe, just maybe, he could find that strength now, buried beneath the burdens, waiting for him to believe in himself.

“One burden at a time, I guess…” Rowan thought, a flicker of determination igniting within him as he looked at the sword before him. It pulsed softly

“Childhood, huh?” He eyed the blade, its hilt inscribed with memories that had weighed him down for far too long.

 “Well… even though those words and experiences shaped me, they don’t define me.” Rowan scoffed, shaking his head as he gathered his resolve. “I’m more than a freak; I’m what I make myself into, not what they say!”

As he spoke, the sword began to glow brightly, a shimmering light radiating from it until it shattered into countless little flowers, floating gently around him. With each bloom, he felt a sense of weight lift from his shoulders, and he could slightly lift himself up, buoyed by a newfound sense of freedom.

“So that’s how that works, huh?” he mused, a confident smile creeping onto his face.

Rowan’s mind shifted to the next burden: abandonment. A groan escaped his lips as he thought about this one—it was more complicated. He felt distanced from Jasper, a growing chasm that had formed between them. But as he reflected, a light of understanding dawned upon him.

“I may be afraid of Jasper leaving,” Rowan began, his voice firmer now, “and everyone else for that matter.” 

 “But…“I have the power to speak up about us! I can voice my feelings. And who cares if they leave me? I love me for who I am!”

With those words, the weight of fear started to dissipate. Rowan felt lighter, his heart swelling with a burgeoning sense of self-acceptance. 

Rowan lifted himself just a bit more, his spirit buoyed by his resolve. “That moment was horrifying in my life,” he admitted, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. “I’m scared of if he’ll die again.” 

“But I give myself comfort knowing that we have each other to protect one another!”

another sword glowed brilliantly and faded.. Rowan stood up straight, a smile breaking through his tears, feeling lighter than he had in ages.

“I do hate them for telling me I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place,” 

“But! I am more than a mistake. I’ve made so many friends, and I met Jasper in the process so suck it!”

 He laughed, joy bubbling up as both swords faded, the weight of his anger transforming into exhilaration. He raised his middle finger at the vast, empty white expanse.

“I am more than what I’m useful for! I know my limits, and they should respect it!” Another sword glimmered and disappear. Rowan felt the ground beneath him solidify. He could fully stand now.

But then he paused, his smile fading as he knew which burden awaited him—the final one. 

“I—”

His heart raced as he prepared to confront the last burden. “My life matters… and I’m glad to be here.”

With those words, the last sword flickered brightly before disappearing. In an instant, the ground around him burst forth with a riot of colors as flowers blossomed in every direction. A vast blue sky enveloped him, the brightness washing over him like a warm embrace. 

Buttercups, begonias, poppies, indigos—each bloom swayed gently in an unseen breeze, vibrant and alive.

Rowan laughed, a sound of pure joy as he flopped onto the soft petals, tears spilling over but now of happiness. He had never felt this light before, never this content, so ready to move on from his past. He knew he had to talk to Jasper, to share everything he had uncovered within himself.

As he lay among the flowers, he noticed a trail of white blooms glowing ahead, forming a staircase that led upward. 

“Guess it’s time,” 

 

Rowan cleaver has completed the trial

 

—

Chapter 60: sixty

Chapter by Honeydrrop

Bela stood alone.

 

There was water around her, knee level, and glass lotus flowers lay upon lily pads, bobbing along like a pathway. 

 

She turned to her side, nobody was there.

 

What did she expect?

 

The likely idea of them all fleeing passed her by.

 

She sat with it.

 

Had they fled? Run away? Abandoned her? 

 

It would be better for them if they did.

 

She was far too much trouble.

 

She knew that.

 

She did not voice it though.

 

Nobody likes to face tough truths, and she knew they would all live in denial rather than admit their true thoughts about her. 

 

After all, they had gotten along so well while she was gone.

 

Thea and Vacante.

 

They didn't need her anymore.

 

They never did.

 

She was intruding.

 

She wasn't supposed to be here. 

 

She should have just accepted her fate quietly. With poise and calmness that she had never truly learned. 

 

But she never was like that.

 

She was never selfless.

 

She was always so…

 

“Selfish.” 

 

She turned around, there was a door behind her. 

 

It was a door of metal, cold and foreign to the space around it. 

 

The water rippled as she walked to it.

 

There was a voice echoing behind it.

 

It was familiar, and hissing, spiked with vitriol. 

 

“You're always so selfish, aren't you.” 

 

“I-”

 

“Oh, please, you're just going to say some bullshit excuse aren't you? That's what you always do.” 

 

Bela frowned and opened the door. Lydia’s study faced her on the other side. 

 

She turned around and found a closed door behind her, metal and uninviting. 

 

There was someone before her.

 

Herself. 

 

Belladonna looked at Bela with thinly veiled contempt. 

 

“Look at what you've become, how the mighty have fallen.” 

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“You're a murderer darling, you've got the blood of thousands on your hands. Didn't you vow to save people, and look at you now, breaking that vow.”

 

Bela looked at her hands, they were coated in red, her dress was white and bloodied and ruined. 

 

She looked up, and Belladonna had no head. She held the severed cranium within bloodstained hands. 

 

“You're the one that replaced me?”

 

Bela opened her mouth, no words came out.

 

“A murderer. A thief. A liar.”

 

“I…”

 

“You can't even deny it, can you?”

 

“...”

 

“Why do you get to live, to have all this? Why did I have to die? Was it because you wanted a place to belong? Did you kill me? Are you the reason Thea-”

 

“Don't say her name!”

 

“Why can't I? She was mine before she ever even considered being yours.” 

 

“Be-”

 

“Is it because she married you? Do you think she doesn't look at you and think of me instead? Do you really believe she ever replaced me that easily? She only married you because she thought you were me. You can't seriously believe she stays with you because she loves you, can you?”

 

“She- she does love me. She told me she did.”

 

“Did she? Or was she lying to keep you from having a meltdown?”

 

“She…”

 

“She doesn't love you. She could never love you. You wanna know why? You're a monster. And she could never love a monster.”

 

“...”

 

Bela looked down, and when she looked up Lydia was there. 

 

She looked tired and ragged and beaten down.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Why walk this road?”

 

“Because..”

 

“You don't want to be trapped again? Please, we both know that it wouldn't work. So tell me the truth.” 

 

“...”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“To help them.”

 

“That is not the reason either.”

 

“What is it then?”

 

“You know it. You simply hide from it. This idea, this thought.”

 

“I’m not hiding from anything.”

 

“Yes you are.”

 

“I- I don't know what you mean. I really don't.”

 

“Are you sure about that?”

 

“...”

 

“Bela.”

 

“Auntie.”

 

“When will you know.”

 

“Know what?!.”

 

“When will you know.”

 

Bela moved closer, and she didn't even register her outfit. Starry armor, gauntlets, a red cloak.

 

“Auntie, please, what do you mean?”

 

Lydia looked at her with pity. But she did not explain. 

 

Bela looked into her eyes. And found the message hidden in them. 

 

“No. You can't mean that..”

 

“When will you know?”

 

“...”

 

“When.”

 

“...”

 

“Will.”

 

“...”

 

“You.”

 

“...”

 

“Know?”

 

Bela closed her eyes and slammed her hands over her ears. 

 

The words continued.

 

She couldn't stop them.

 

“ When will you know?” 

 

“ When will you know?” 

 

“ When will you know?” 

 

“ When will you know?” 

 

“ When will you know?” 

 

“ When will you know?”  

 

“When will you know?”

 

“When will you know?”

 

“When will you know?”

 

“When will you know?”

 

…

 

There was rushing water.

 

A beach.

 

Glass sharded sand.

 

The ocean was red.

 

Blood red.

 

“Did you ever love me?”

 

Bela looked around, Thea was behind her. Thea, looking how she did on their first date. A sundress and pilated hair. 

 

Her eyes were cold.

 

There was a sword in her chest.

 

The beach was a battlefield. Carnage and bloodshed. There was no love to be found here. 

 

Bela moved forward, her hands reaching on instinct. She wanted to hold Thea.

 

She always wanted Thea.

 

“You let me die for you. And you repaid me by forgetting me.” 

 

“No, I-”

 

“You did, you forgot me. You lived in a world in which I did not exist. And when you remembered me, you simply replaced me.” 

 

“It's not like that!”

 

“What is it like then?”

 

“It's…”

 

“You don't know. You never know.”

 

“T-thea.”

 

“Did you ever love me? Or was I just some toy you could get another copy of?” 

 

“I-”

 

“What was I to you? A lover or an accessory.” 

 

“No, no, you were always-”

 

“Always what?”

 

“I could never replace you.”

 

“You did. Is that not what you did with her? ”

 

“No- no- I-”

 

“You can never accept when things don't go your way.”

 

“I-I can.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“NO- no- I’m- Im not a-”

 

“You are. You lie to everyone. To your family, your friends, yourself. Lying is in your nature.” 

 

Knees met the floor, cuts appeared on skin and a night sky leaked free from the warm body. 

 

Bela stared up at Thea, she grabbed Bela by the hair and dragged their faces close. 

 

“Admit it. You don't love me. You can't love. A creature such as you isn't meant for it.” 

 

Tears streaked down Bela’s face, warm like blood. Thea’s blood.

 

Thea was dead.

 

Bela had replaced her.

 

Bela was not capable of loving in a way that Thea deserved. 

 

She was not capable of loving in a way anyone deserved. 

 

The hand in her hair dropped and vanished, Bela gazed at the glass covered beach. She was alone now. She shut her eyes and buried her face in her palms. 

 

…

 

“You're a bad person, Belladonna Dumitrescu.” 

 

Bela did not look up as the voice approached. 

 

Asphalt crunched under the speaker's feet, and a hand wound itself in loose hair to pull her up, forcing her face from her hands. 

 

“Don't hide now. Don't be the coward you pretend you aren't.”

 

The clone of Tatiana stood before her.

 

The one she had killed. Ages ago. Before it all. Before the switch, the meetings, the insanity, the deaths, the trouble.

 

Before she knew. 

 

“Y'know they always call your sister the runner, but they never realized that it's you who abandons everyone. It's you who runs and hides. It's you, it's always you. ”

 

Bela stared rather blankly at the clone. There were stitches around its neck. A head sewed back onto a bleeding neck.

 

The clone followed her gaze, a hand coming up to touch the wound.

 

“Do you like my new look? It's the one you gave me after all.”

 

“...”

 

“Aw, you don't wanna say anything?”

 

“...”

 

“Too bad.”

 

The clone dropped her hair and picked her up by the throat. 

 

Bela’s legs kicked out on instinct as she was hauled up, her red jacket slipped free from her shoulders and hit the floor. The bloodied floor. 

 

The corpse of Tatiana lay nearby.

 

Severed in half.

 

“You see her over there?”

 

Bela did not say anything, her tears were answer enough. 

 

“She died because of you. And what did you do? You replaced her. You replaced them all, do you not feel guilty for it?” 

 

Bela did not try to defend herself this time. 

 

What use was there?

 

They were all right.

 

She was a liar, a murderer, a thief, a criminal.

 

She was a monster.

 

Monster’s don't get happy endings. 

 

Why did she think herself the exception?

 

The clone dropped her and Bela hit the floor of the alleyway. 

 

She lay near her sister.

 

Her dead eyes pierced into Bela’s own.

 

“It's all your fault, Bela.” 

 

“It always is.” 

 

…

 

Bela was on a cold stone floor.

 

Carved, rough, bloodied.

 

There were bodies around her, they surrounded her and they sat up puppeteered by strings.

 

The bodies hauled her to her feet and slammed her against a wooden beam. They bound her to it, holding her against it. She did not fight her way free from it. 

 

There was no reason to do so.

 

Footsteps echoed.

 

Multiple, a group then.

 

The group stopped before her, they each held a torch.

 

There was straw beneath her feet. Dry, ready to be alight.

 

She was a witch, about to be burned. 

 

The first figure stepped forward, and lit the straw. They gazed up at her and she was forced to gaze back. 

 

It was Johnny. 

 

“You’re a poison. Like your namesake. Did you really think I’d stay with you after it all? Did you really think I kept you around for any reason more than convenience? Did you really think we were friends ?” 

 

“You…”

 

“I was happier when I didn't remember you. Maybe that was a sign,” he reached out a hand and grabbed her by the face, and the torch was held high by her cheek. Skin smoldering beneath its weight. “That I didn't need you at all.” 

 

The torch dropped and Bela blinked away tears. When she opened her eyes, Johnny was gone. But the straw still burned with the hatred the torch carried.

 

The next figure came from the right, Bela was facing the left. There were vines curling around her throat and yanking her head the other way. Rowan carried a torch, it blazed with rage. 

 

“Did you think I ever forgave you for what you've done? For how you treated me when we met? For what you dragged me into? I would have been better off if I hadn't of met you. I would have been better off if you hadn't of existed.” 

 

He dropped the torch, but his form stayed. The fire lit up his eyes and he stepped closer. Wrath, rage, anger, hatred. 

 

“They always said I wasn't supposed to exist. But it was you that shouldn't be here instead.” 

 

The vines ripped across her skin and opened old wounds, her neck dripped blood. The fire ate at her feet, her ankles, it burned. 

 

Jasper grabbed her by the hair and yanked her bleeding and burnt face back, there were no tears on her side. Why should she cry? She was getting what she deserved. What was overdue. 

 

“You tormented him, me, us. It was your fault that I struggled so much. If you hadn't of been so weak as to let a feeble wizard trap you, then I would have been fine. Rowan would have been fine. We all would have been fine. ”

 

The torch burned her arm as he dragged it across the skin and dropped it among the straw. The flames ate at her knees now. Burnt, bleeding skin. Raw and bloodied. 

 

Another figure stepped forward, and tossed their torch into the pit of fire. 

 

The flames were at her waist now. Her dress burned and turned to ashy remnants under the weight of it all. 

 

“You’re the reason Johnny almost died. You're the reason he got kidnapped, you're the reason I almost lost him again. You're the reason I lost myself.” 

 

Ian did not look at her as he spoke, his shadowed arm was spiked and flickering. A sign of rage. Wrath.

 

His sin.

 

Fitting that his words would cut the deepest. That his hate would blaze the brightest. That it would burn her the most.

 

“You never help. Even when we turned, even when I lost myself, you didn't try to save me from the guilt of killing. Instead you gave me paltry words. What is a bandage to a gaping wound?” 

 

Ian did not wait for an answer, and he turned and left. 

 

The flames were at her chest now. 

 

Her executioner stepped closer. 

 

Void.

 

Her flames were blue, burning hot, ice cold. 

 

“You created me because you were lonely. Because you wanted another half, someone to share your burden with. You created me because you couldn't handle it. I never wanted to be alive, but you never cared for what others wanted now did you?” 

 

The flames swallowed her whole and Bela tumbled, falling through the floor, her skin alight with hatred and guilt and rage and wrath and pain. 

 

…

 

A floor caught her, none too gently, a bloodied floor. 

 

Blood, it followed her. 

 

She was coated in it, drenched in it, ruined, defiled, by it. 

 

She sat up, she wasn’t burning anymore. 

 

Was it all in her head?

 

A likely conclusion. 

 

The area around her was familiar.

 

A warehouse.

 

There was a shredded jacket nearby, covered in gore and blood. An eye rolled close to her knee. She was kneeling, her hair was pulled back in a ruined braid. Her outfit bloodied, she was coated in gore. 

 

She looked like an extra from a rather terrible horror movie. 

 

Bela would have laughed, had it not been for the voices echoing in the ruined warehouse around her. 

 

“We died for you, and you forsake our efforts by trying to kill yourself?” 

 

Bela turned, she didn't want to but she had to. 

 

Armand was behind her, Carmen and Kate were silent at his side. 

 

“I told you I lived a good life before I died. That I was happy to sacrifice myself for you. We both knew it was a lie. You heard my thoughts, you knew I was scared,  you knew I didn't want to die. So why did you let me? Why did you let us die?” 

 

“...”

 

“You can't hide behind all your, “ I don't know’s” anymore. You have to face the truth. Why did you do it?” 

 

The area shifted like a stained page of watercolors. Bela closed her eyes as the world turned and moved. 

 

Still, she tried her best to answer for her guilt. The chains weighing her down. The constant hauntings. 

 

“Because I was a coward.” 

 

Their voices swirled around her, a carousel of noise. 

 

“You always were.”

 

…

 

Bela stood in her family home’s parlor. There was a broken tea table on the floor. Glass surrounded her and debris filled the air. 

 

The house was destroyed. 

 

Falling like blocks from a poorly built children’s castle. 

 

Before her were figures. Bloodied, broken, dead. 

 

Violetta, Rosemary, Mama, Papa. 

 

They stared at her with empty eyes, their eyes reflecting no life, no light. They reflected nothing but an abyss. 

 

“De ce ai făcut-o?”

 

“Ne-ai ucis. De ce?”

 

“It was an accident.”

 

“Atunci de ce nu ai reparat-o?”

 

“Ai vrut măcar?”

 

“Pretindeți că vă simțiți vinovat, dar ți-ai petrecut cea mai mare parte a vieții cerându-ți scuze și fără a face nimic lapidare.”

 

“Când vei face ceva semnificativ?”

 

“Când vei merita durerea prin care i-ai supus altora?”

 

“Never.”

 

“Exact, deci ce poți face în schimb?”

 

“Poți muri.”

 

Bela fell, the floor went with her. Her family jeered at her as she fell, they laughed and danced. 

 

They were wearing white shrouds, flower chains around broken necks and bloodied heads. 

 

When Bela hit the floor again she hoped, for a brief moment, that she would die. 

 

She did not get that privilege. 

 

…

 

She lay in a room.

 

It was empty. Void. 

 

There were bunches of blades littering the ground.

 

They reflected an unnatural light, for there was no light source in the room.

 

Bela held the razors in her hands, they glittered like the stars she wished to be among.

 

Her body was new, unbroken, unblemished. 

 

This would not do. 

 

She held the blades, curled her hands, they dug into her skin and blood dripped like rivers from her. 

 

The bloodied razors whispered to her.

 

Why do this?

 

What does it offer?

 

Who does it help?

 

You? No, it doesn't help you. 

 

Them? No, they hate to see you like this.

 

Who does it help?

 

Who does it help Bela?

 

Who.

 

Does. 

 

It.

 

Help.

 

Bela hissed out a sound, a mixture of grief and joy. Love and hate. She felt so much, it had no outlet. She wanted to bleed the emotions from her heart. To cut herself open and be empty, to be free, to be simple. 

 

Humanity was not simple.

 

Bela hated that.

 

She dropped the bloodied blades and they grew into lotus flowers. 

 

Her blood dripped and poured like rivers, it formed an ocean. 

 

Still, she grabbed razors, and she marred her body. She changed it, she ‘perfected’ it. 

 

For nothing is meant to be perfect, and Bela refused to be an exception to this rule.

 

It was the one thing she could control. The one thing she could change.

 

She may not be human, but she could feel pain, she could bleed. 

 

Was that proof enough? Proof enough that she at least tried.

 

The blood swallowed her into a starry sea, Bela sank beneath its surface and tears followed her like oxygen bubbles that she did not breathe.

 

Her body was a mess of scars.

 

But was it a punishment or a relief?

 

Was she using it to prove her humanity?

 

Did it do the trick?

 

…

 

There was a wail.

 

It broke through the silence that followed Bela as she had sunk beneath starry waves, starry nights, the stars.

 

She wanted the stars.

 

The stars didn't judge.

 

They didn't hurt her.

 

They did not disregard her.

 

They accepted her.

 

They loved her.

 

Bela wanted the stars, she wanted them badly. 

 

She opened her eyes. The hallway she occupied was dark. It was lit with only small neon signs above doorways. The hallway stretched for what seemed like eons. Wails and screams echoed through it. 

 

Bela did not want to follow the sounds.

 

Bela had to.

 

So she did. 

 

Her footsteps made no sound as she walked, her outfit was simple. 

 

A white dress that reached her ankles, a belt, and a roughly cut open back. 

 

She walked for a time, there were no tears, no breathing, nothing. 

 

Her lips were cold, blue and purple. Her skin was blood drained and pale. Her body was cold. Her hair was limp. 

 

Bela looked dead.

 

Because that’s what…

 

Bela did not dwell on the thought. 

 

She walked.

 

The hallway gave way to a side full of windows, a nursery lay behind it. Bela looked through the glass. There were two carts in the large nursery, each held a small newborn.

 

Tatiana, one read.

 

Belladonna, the other said.

 

The two children slept, and there was a figure standing behind one of them. 

 

The figure had a large hooded dress on, branches of bark wrapping around the shoulders and chest. A skull face, a flower held in hand. 

 

The figure grabbed the newborn, the body was left behind, the spirit held in the figure's arms. 

 

The other woke and wailed for a time, nurses with bandaged faces rushed in and calmed it. They caught sight of the deceased newborn, the one they had predicted to be a stillborn, and they moved its cart. The cart left the room. The figure followed with the baby in careful arms. 

 

Bela watched as Tatiana was calmed down, and she knew she couldn't avoid the truth anymore. 

 

I do not wish to die.

 

But I know I was not supposed to live.

 

How awful is it to live with the knowledge that you are breaking the rules of life, of fate, of destiny each moment you live.

 

How terrible is it to realize you have stolen the opportunity of life from others just by existing.

 

How dreadful is it to know that you were dead at birth, and that you should have stayed dead. 

 

…

 

Bela turned around, she was not surprised to greet Death as she did so. 

 

She greeted Death as she should, with a smile. 

 

“Have you finally come for me? Are you here to fix my traitorous existence?” 

 

Death cradled the baby, her, what she was supposed to be. And shook its head.

 

“No. You are alive now, there is no changing that. Dying will not fix your impact. Dying will not free you. Dying will not help you. You were meant to die, now, you are meant to live.” 

 

Bela blinked and shook her head, there were frantic tears in her eyes now. A light, desperation. 

 

“No. No. I've caused too much pain, I can't fix it, I can't help anymore, I can only die. I was supposed to die. I should not have lived!” 

 

“But you did.”

 

“I…”

 

“You lived, and you will continue to live, for a long time. You will live until your friends have passed and then, full of contentment, you will die in your beloved arms.”

 

Bela shook her head, her hands rattled, the belt was tight around her, it grounded her. It reminded her of things she should not be experiencing. 

 

Bela should not be here.

 

Bela was destined to be a stillborn. 

 

She was destined to die at birth.

 

So then…

 

“Fate cut my string! She did! I remember it! So I should be dead! I should be! I should be! I cannot live, I cannot face those I have hurt. But I can do this, I can die and free them from my wretched heart, my greedy hands.” 

 

“You will not free them. You will only free yourself.”

 

“No, I-”

 

“You will only free yourself.”

 

“I-”

 

“You will only free yourself.” 

 

Bela stared at Death, Death held out the baby to her. The baby blinked open warm brown eyes and smiled, reaching toward her with pudgy hands.

 

“Accept your life now. Accept your new fate. Accept that you lived. That you survived .”

 

Bela shook her head even as her hands reached out as though desperate for the chance to be told that she did deserve to live. That she was doing something with her life. 

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I should be dead.”

 

“You are not.”

 

“I am not.”

 

“Why does this bother you?”

 

“I-”

 

“Is it guilt, do you believe yourself to have stolen the chances of others?”

 

“...”

 

“Your existence was written in the stars, you were meant to be here. Otherwise you would not have survived.”

 

“That…that doesn't make any sense.”

 

“Belladonna.”

 

Bela gazed at Death, and stepped closer, her clothes shifted briefly. White and then blue. A bright blue, like a summer’s ocean. 

 

“You know Death well, and Death knows you in return.”

 

Bela looked down at her arms, the baby held within the careful cradle of them.

 

“Look at yourself, and tell me still, that you wish to die.”

 

Bela opened her mouth, the words choked at her throat, they would not leave. They sat there, a jumble of letters she could not string together. The baby laughed at her and reached a hand up, she let it grab a lock of hair and tug it. 

 

The baby laughed at her, Bela cried. She hit the floor, it was soft beneath her knees. The neon signs of the hospital hallway lit up her figure, a backlight. Like a halo. 

 

 The baby caught sight of her tears and pouted, its own face welling up with misery that only children are capable of carrying. A naive pain, one born from the strife of facing your first loss. Your first struggle. 

 

Bela held the child close to her and curled over it as she wept, her tears sparkled against the floor. 

 

“Îmi pare rău. Iartă-mă, te rog. Iartă-mă. Nu am vrut niciodată să... Nu știam... Eu... Nu e vina ta. Nu meritai asta. Să fiu învinovățit și rănit de mine. Nu ai meritat niciodată asta. Acea soartă nu mai este a ta. Nu este nici al meu. Eu... noi, suntem meniți să trăim.”

 

The baby reached to her, held her, cried her tears. 

 

The baby was her.

 

She was the baby.

 

“Belladonna. Meriti sa traiesti. Meriti sa iubesti. Meriți totul. Nu uita niciodată asta. Nu lăsa niciodată acea lumină să se estompeze. Ai fost făcut pentru lucruri mari, vei face lucruri mărețe. Ești un lucru grozav.”

 

Death reached out a hand and patted her head, Bela looked up, the baby turned into blooming irises in her arms. They spilled around her. The world tunneled till it was just her and Death. 

 

“Do you see it now?”

 

Bela nodded, there were fresh tears running down her face. Tears like glass rain.

 

“You are worth living.”

 

“You always were.”

 

Bela looked down at the blooming irises. And then back up at Death. 

 

Death was gone. So was the hospital hallway. 

 

Before her lay a door. 

 

The door was simple, covered in ivy with an old circular brass handle. There were flowers growing at the edges of the ivy vines. Surrounding the door frame in the abyss of nothing.

 

White tulips; A flower that can symbolize new beginnings,

 

Daffodils; A cheery yellow flower that symbolizes new beginnings, rebirth, and renewal.

 

Chrysanthemums; A resilient flower that blooms in autumn and symbolizes rebirth, new beginnings, and optimism.

 

There were words carved into the handle, they glowed as she grabbed it in hand. 

 

Belladonna Dumitrescu.

 

Death.

 

Embrace change, let go of the past, and seize new opportunities

 

…

Belladonna Dumitrescu has completed the trial. 

 

—

Chapter 61: sixty one

Chapter by Honeydrrop

Johnny’s vision dimmed, his senses melding into a terrible ache as he walked through suffocating air. The ground lost its cobbled feel, morphing into the familiar tiles of the lab.

 

He blinked away remnants of sluggishness, squinting in the oddly bright fluorescent lights. Everything was so… cluttered , as if the place had been ransacked, abandoned.

 

Why?

 

He carefully stepped over broken beakers, ripped and crumpled notes, desperate to find Ian. Was he hurt?

 

Nowhere to be found, apparently. Somehow that was even worse. He wouldn’t be able to tend to Ian.

 

Maybe he left before Johnny could get to him. Maybe he really just didn’t want to be around him.

 

Why?

 

So many of those went through his mind.

 

Johnny groaned.

 

Or, at least he thought he did. His voice seemed to be lost.

 

He hummed. No sound.

 

Wait, what?

 

Why was there no sound?

He stomped, that made noise.

 

He tried to scream.

 

It didn’t work.

 

It isn’t working.

 

Ian, where is Ian? Can he hear?

 

Why the fuck won’t sounds come out?

 

Hands, face, mouth—

 

No. No mouth.

 

Why don’t I have a mouth?

 

Why?

 

Why?

 

Why?

 

I can breathe, breathe through my nose, I think, but my mouth, it’s gone, it’s like my jaw’s screwed shut.

 

Who’s doing this? Why?

 

Surely not Bela.

 

No, never Bela.

 

Right?

 

Why would Bela do that?

 

Maybe it's like the dungeons again. All those bodies…

 

She barely recognized me then. She didn’t, not for a long while. Not until she had me on the ceiling.

 

She nuzzled her cheek against mine then. Why?

 

When I was in so much agony, bleeding out. When we were at a standstill, yet such a gentle gesture…

 

Why?

 

Groan. No sound, no movement. Huff instead.

 

Bela, sweet Bela.

 

Why?

 

She’s so haunted by everything. Why?

 

How has she endured it all?

 

Why has she endured it?

 

Maybe because we made her do so. We fought with her, the Fabric, the Universe.

 

What if we don’t get another shot like that again? And something happens?

 

What if I lose her again?

 

Why did she have to die?

 

Why?

 

I can’t.

 

Maybe,

 

No.

 

But…

 

No.

 

Will she?

 

No .

 

Will she die again?

 

Why did she? Why did I have to lose her to begin with?

 

Just like him. Ian.

 

God, Ian. 

 

He hurts me like this. I feel like I’m losing him all over again.

 

Am I no good?

 

I want him so bad. I want him to want me. I need him. I need my soul to be his, I need to be his.

 

Why can’t I have that?

 

Why?

 

God , why?

 

God.

 

Fucking God. He was never kind to us, to Ian. He was horrible.

 

Why?

 

Someone of such power, why would he harm so much? Why was he so far gone?

 

How infuriating is that? Surely he could’ve just listened to Adam.

 

Zerithos, I fucking hate him. 

 

Why was he like that? Why couldn’t he have just been good? Why did he have to torture us?

 

I gotta get out of this lab. The clutter is ruining my mind, surely. 

 

Yes. Psychology works like that.

 

Where is Ian?

 

I step back out of the lab. Everything is wrong. I still have no mouth, I feel wrong.

 

Am I wrong?

 

Maybe. Maybe that’s why Elenor was like that. Why they abandoned me.

 

Why did they abandon me?

 

I don’t understand.

 

We were family, we were supposed to be there for one another.

 

We were supposed to be solid. We were supposed to get through everything together.

 

That’s what we promised.

 

That’s what she told us.

 

Elenor, I didn’t take her for a liar, why would she lie? Why?

 

Everything was held together by her.

 

Everything.

 

It all fell apart by her hand, too.

 

Why?

 

It’s cold, it’s so fucking cold…

 

Snow?

 

There’s a town, just beyond the forest, I see the buildings. Their windows frozen over.

 

All except for one.

 

A woman, a man looking at her. 

 

A woman with wings, iridescent, rich blue. 

 

A man with white hair. Feathered, fiery wings.

 

A woman with earthy brown hair. Green eyes, a stark contrast from the purple ones looking at her.

 

Something wriggling in her grasp, something reaching out.

 

A baby.

 

One with white hair.

 

One with pale skin.

 

One with purple eyes.

 

I can hear the baby, despite being out here in the cold. Is this what Ian experiences?

 

I can hear her .

 

Shh, it’s okay. You’ll be okay.

 

So familiar.

 

Why?

 

Baby, no need to cry. It’ll be okay.

 

Soft kisses to a small face, kisses I remember. Kisses I never thought I received.

 

We’ll see you, okay? We’ll find you, and it’ll be just fine, we just gotta make sure you make it, okay?

 

Her voice, it’s breaking.

 

He’s holding her. His hands, they look like mine.

 

Why is she crying?

 

She cries like me. Silent. Lots of tears. He barely cries.

 

Who are they…?

 

What is this?

 

The baby starts to wail. Another familiar sound, it makes her wings buzz.

 

Mine do that. They do that when I’m in distress. 

 

I don’t like that sound.

 

Why can I see them?

 

She wraps the baby in a thick blanket, hurriedly leaving towards the door, seemingly unaware of my presence.

 

Why?

 

I follow her. 

 

The baby’s face is red from the cold. She’s no better.

 

Her wings.

 

They look like mine.

 

Is she like me?

 

Are there others?

 

Snapped out of thought, we’re weaving our way through the thick of the forest. She’s shivering, this woman.

 

A clearing. One I remember frequenting in my youth.

 

One where Ian and I carved into trees. Ate together.

 

She holds the baby close. Kisses. Many of them.

 

The baby can’t be a year old. Not even.

 

And to my horror, she sets the baby down in a heap of blankets at the base of a tree.

 

We’ll find you, okay? Sobbing, kneeling, crying from both her and the child.

 

Oh, please don’t cry, Johnny. I promise, we’ll find you when it’s safe, okay? You’ll have to wait, but we’ll find you.

 

Johnny.

 

My mother.

 

I feel like I’m melting.

 

Am I?

 

My body feels wrong.

 

Find me? Nobody ever found me except Ian. Nobody was in that forest.

 

I want to say something. I have no mouth.

 

I want to reach for her. 

 

My limbs aren’t working. 

 

My skin, it’s dripping —

 

I flinch. Stumble, land harshly in the snow.

 

Helpless.

 

Like the baby.

 

Watching my mother leave, helpless.

 

Why did she leave?

 

Why do people leave?

 

I don’t understand. 

 

I could’ve had a family, a proper home. A proper childhood without all of that strife.

 

They abandoned me in the forest.

 

Why?

 

Why does everyone do that?

 

My life began with abandonment. My friends. Abandoning me when I needed the most help.

 

Why?

 

I was suffering. 

 

I was suffering and drowning in grief and all they could think about was being afraid.

 

Afraid of me.

 

Why do people fear me?

 

I help people, I try to, at least. That was always my nature.

 

I feel like my body’s becoming one with the snow. It’s a stinging pain, somehow burning me, searing despite the cold.

 

And even as agonizing as it is, I still can’t fucking scream.

 

People don’t help me when I help them.

 

Do I need to be selfish? Is that what gets you some semblance of assistance?

 

Surely you can be kinder.

 

Maybe not. It took murder for anyone to see me.

 

It took murder. 

 

I murdered.

 

I maimed. Mutilated. I did everything wrong and that’s when I was treated right.

 

Why is that?

 

Was my help not good enough?

 

I’d sacrifice anything, even my own blood, to help.

 

Why couldn’t that be enough?

 

Why wasn’t I enough?

 

Why can’t I help people the way I want to?

 

Does it even seem like help to them? Or are they just getting a use out of me?

 

Am I anything besides useful?

 

I’m melting, I’m melting .

 

My body, in puddles around me. I can’t run from this, nothing is allowing me to.

 

I can’t run. 

 

I can’t scream, fight against it, argue, defend. I can’t do anything.

 

As if tying me up wouldn’t have done the trick.

 

No…

 

This is a trial. I have to endure everything without even a chance of escape.

 

Fuck.

 

This is almost as bad as…

 

No.

 

No, please.

 

A phoenix, a curse. Johnny was never given the privilege of death. Forced to live even when he tried to stop.

 

Forced to do everything. Forced to nurse people to health, forced to teach people, forced to console, forced to be perceived, forced to be .

 

He did not want to be anymore, he didn’t want any of this.

 

He hated how the world laughed in his face, he hated how the world kept spinning the odds in his favor at the worst moments. He wanted to fail in all the aspects he did not.

 

He wanted to succeed in everything he was never allowed to.

 

A phoenix. A trophy to society.

 

What was he?

 

Why was he this way?

 

Why?

 

Why?

 

A noise. Something ravenous, something animalistic behind the wall of flesh where a mouth should have been.

 

It pained him, hearing the baby beside him screaming when he could not.

 

His arms, he lifted them, they felt like acid as he reached for his face.

 

I need to get out of here.

 

I need to scream.

 

Please, please.

 

Let me, please.

 

I can’t think like this, I need to think.

 

I need to think.

 

Johnny clawed at the melting skin of his face, urging his throat to produce as much sound as possible, hearing the muffled noises grow louder as he clawed. It was feral of him, desperate, instinctual. The screaming, it wasn’t enough, he needed a mouth, an outlet, something. He needed a way to get the thoughts out, the whys and hows and everything in between. He hated his mind, he hated how fast each thought clustered together into multiple trains that were all trying to be heard at once. He hated how much his mind felt was important, he hated how much processing took out of him. He hated his mind, and he fucking detested being stuck with it.

 

His jaw, it was finally loosening, able to unhinge as he pried through small gaps forming in his face. He groaned, he screeched and wailed and growled and yelled and cried and everything he could not do, wanted to do, needed to do. He felt his throat become scratchy, torn with the sudden strain, unable to heal properly as he continued to wear out his vocal cords.

 

It gave a sense of comfort, being able to feel pain unhealed mere moments after infliction. 

 

He gasped for air, finally able to do so through his mouth, coming to the realization that the baby became quiet as Johnny grew louder.

 

Why was that?

 

He groaned, finally able to hear himself. The baby cooed quietly.

 

So tiny, was he born premature?

 

It was so odd, seeing himself this way. He tried to touch the baby, poking a cold face, earning a scrunched nose and a grunt of frustration. He still did that whenever Ian poked his face in his sleep. Ian found it cute, apparently.

 

He wasn’t melting. But he didn’t feel normal.

 

Picking up the baby, he wandered around the forest, trying to offer some warmth. Warmth he wished he had. Warmth he had to provide himself, even now.

 

He could finally think.

 

All these whys, he didn’t understand them.

 

The child cooed in his arms, and Johnny squinted at him. A giggle.

 

There had to have been a reason as to why he was holding the baby. Himself.

 

He squinted harder, the baby laughed louder. Was this whole thing trying to mock him? Was the Trial sentient? Surely not.

 

A study to be had later.

 

Baby Johnny. Babies. 

 

Babies, right at the start.

 

Beginnings.

 

At the start.

 

Maybe Johnny would have to go back to the start. Through those thoughts again. Assess them.

 

Yes, of course. That’s how growth occurs, right?

 

What was the first thing…?

 

Bela. 

 

Bela’s gentle nature in such a violent event.

 

Why was that?

 

Love, perhaps. Maybe she did care?

 

Maybe she didn’t.

 

The baby fussed, wriggling in his arms. 

 

Hmm.

 

Maybe she did care.

 

The baby stopped. Interesting.

 

Could he possibly manipu—

 

“WAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

Okay, maybe not.

 

This was him, after all. Should’ve expected the same logic, even out of a baby. This was a Trial Baby. 

 

He was starting to think the Trial was sentient.

 

If he was loved by her, then…

 

Maybe he’d lose her.

 

Like he was losing Ian.

 

The baby began to weep softly, a stark contrast to the other wails he produced. He held him closer as the pang of his realization wracked his mind.

 

Can’t let the baby cry. The baby has to be happy, maybe that would let him out of this damned trial.

 

Bela. Focus on Bela.

 

The baby’s weeping hitched, slowing to mere tears as Johnny shifted his focus. 

 

Maybe he wouldn’t lose her. Not really.

 

She was the Fabric. She was everything all at once, everywhere. She couldn’t exactly not exist.

 

She just wouldn’t be as physical, Johnny theorized. 

 

He chuckled to himself, adjusting the baby in his arms. Maybe she’d show up in his dreams or something. 

 

But he had her now. That was certain.

 

That’s what he tried to think about after Ian’s death, though.

 

Then everyone left.

 

Why did he die?

 

They couldn’t help the situation much. It was war, someone was bound to die.

 

But why him?

 

Wrath. Soul eater. He was on the front lines. Bound to die first.

 

But Zerithos surely didn’t need to be that way, he didn’t have to be so horrible.

 

But he was. He was power hungry and greedy and pure in the only way he could be— through sin .

 

He was a sinful man. The epitome of sin, the encapsulation of it, the embodiment of it. How ironic, for him to be so against the very things he stood for when they resided in other people even a little.

 

There was no saving that man.

 

But Elenor, surely…

 

No. Though she controlled life in a way, she couldn’t control identity.

 

That’s why Johnny argued with the Fabric to begin with. Free will. If Elenor had such abilities, they wouldn’t have ever had free will. 

 

She couldn’t control Zerithos. His corruption wasn’t a blame to pin on her.

 

Maybe if he had no free will, he wouldn’t have caused two wars.

 

Maybe that’s why Elenor wanted that to happen so badly.

 

Maybe…

 

She cared.

 

Maybe, just maybe, in some twisted form of logic, she was doing everything out of what sense of good she had.

 

Maybe that was her way of caring.

 

He didn’t like it. But that could be true.

 

Another thing he’d just have to accept. She did show care, she didn’t want to harm him.

 

She barely ever truly did. Even when he was in the midst of his grief-stricken rage, murderous eyes on her, she did not retaliate.

 

She was scared of him.

 

Scared of? Or scared for ?

 

The baby nuzzled into Johnny. He barely registered the notion. 

 

Grief was never a linear process. Never the same between two individuals.

 

He became violent, full of vengeance he couldn’t exact.

 

She became sorrowful, too eager to fix, too willing to push boundaries that were closer to shattering than mending.

 

And, unfortunately, her willingness shattered him.

 

They were all drowning in a way. He was just more… openly doing so.

 

Maybe that was why they fell apart. Nobody was able to keep themselves afloat, much less help anyone else.

 

But wasn’t it his purpose to help? He could have. They wouldn’t have fallen apart.

 

Could.

 

No, he couldn’t. He took it the hardest. He sank the fastest. Drowned.

 

He couldn’t possibly just be something of use to everyone else. That wasn’t reasonable, it wasn’t ever something he could achieve.

 

He wanted them to be happy. It made him happy.

 

That was always how he was.

 

But what good was it to please everyone but him? Maybe that’s part of what drove them away, their inability to satisfy the one who was always satisfying someone else.

 

He couldn’t help. Not when he needed it more than he could give.

 

He couldn’t ever be truly happy if he focused on everyone else. He’d be starved of his needs, his wants…

 

Maybe he was starved, then. Grief was merely the tipping point.

 

Selfishness, a craving built into the instincts of life. Selfishness, clothed as survival in the right circumstances.

 

A curse. No way around it. 

 

A curse. A phoenix. 

 

He thought that earlier, yes.

 

No way around it. Something he’d have to accept.

 

Damn it.

 

The baby squirmed. He groaned.

 

He was supposed to be a phoenix, supposed to help, make an impact, heal, use his intelligence to teach, to be .

 

He was supposed to be . To exist, to live, to teach, to learn, to give, to take. 

 

Be .

 

And as much as he didn’t want to at times

 

It was something he’d just have to accept.

 

The baby felt heavier.

 

Johnny looked down, realizing the baby had been lulled to sleep somehow. 

 

Peaceful.

 

He looked around, hoping to find something more comfortable to lounge on in the cold, instead landing his eyes on a sword. 

 

That wasn’t there before.

 

Child in one arm, he knelt, picking up the blade, reading the phrase carved into it.

 

Ace .

 

Ace? Like a card deck?

 

Ace of what?

 

It was a sword. How stupid, the Ace of Swords. Of course.

 

Was this his ticket out?

 

What did he do? Hurt the baby? Himself?

 

Surely not the baby, no.

 

It was him either way. A terrible revelation to be having now.

 

He set the baby down in the snow, careful to put the thickest part of the blanket down to shield him from the cold ground.

 

He’d have to try. The sword surely was there for a reason.

 

With an all too confident hand, Johnny stabbed himself through the chest, gasping for air that was lost to now breached lungs. He collapsed into the snow, and part of him was thankful for having set the child down beforehand.

 

And, yet again, the baby began to wail, much like when she abandoned him.

 

Was he doing the same? Abandoning the baby?

 

He hoped that she’d come back for him. The trial couldn’t go on forever, could it?

 

The snow began to turn red. How odd.

 

The baby kept wailing. It sounded so knowing. How odd.

 

Even odder still was the fact that no mother came. 

 

No mother came for the screaming child, nor the quiet child bleeding out in the snow.

 

How odd.

 

Johnny Torres has completed the trial.

Chapter 62: sixty two

Chapter by Honeydrrop

—

 

keeping you in my arms

aloft and trembling of fears

never knowing where my sight will meet you

darling

inside this day of blooming dreams:

 

cease me in your heart

embrace this elopement of tears

 

—

 

Vacante stands surrounded by people, soldiers, mortals, guarded faces, hidden words and intentions.

 

That is to say she, in a sense, stands alone. 

 

The air is damp, humid, like the first day of a crisp summer morning. There should be dewdrops on the leaves, there should be subtle implications of life, of disorder and chaos and order and life and death and-

 

There should be something.

 

There is not.

 

There are guarded faces, hollow vessels, empty statues, empty empty empty empty empty-

 

Void.

 

It is a Void.

 

Her Void.

 

For she is Void and Void is The Absence, The Nothing, The Epilogue, Retreat, Growth, doors to Childhood closed to make way for Adulthood. Void is the hole in your sock, the gnawing hunger of humanity, the curiosity that leads the cat to death. 

 

Void is the forbidden fruit.

 

The apple Eve dared to eat. 

 

Void was the snake and the tiger, the lion, the predator, sinking its teeth into a host and tugging, pulling, eating, feasting, destroying, until there was naught left but the Void. 

 

The Void.

 

Vacante.

 

If the Void came back, if she went back, was it an end of Vacante, was it an Ororborus, the snake eating its own tail. Did she cause her own self destruction, feed into her absolution? Would it free her from the human chains of guilt, the choking ink, the spilling flood, the rising shame, the serpent coil, the lion’s jaws, the eyes of those watching? 

 

The guilt. Why did it exist, why did she feel it? Why?

 

Human, she was human, humanity, it;’s painful shackles, pain pain pain pain pain pain-

 

Void.

 

She was the Void.

 

She felt nothing.

 

Void.

 

Vacante.

 

Which one was she truly? Was there a difference, had she made a difference, no, never, always the same. The Void, the hunger, the want, the thirst, it never left. The Void, the hunger, the thirst, the want guided her. She was so very hungry. 

 

Hunger. Is that why she did things?

 

Why?

 

To satiate a need, a human need, the Void felt nothing so why did it hunger?

 

The thirst, the want-

 

Want.

 

Human.

 

Want was human.

 

Void was not human.

 

Vacante was not human. 

 

Vacante was human.

 

No.

 

Yes.

 

Human.

 

Inhuman.

 

When is a monster not a monster?

 

Human.

 

Inhuman.

 

When is a monster-

 

Oh, when you love it.

 

Love.

 

Human.

 

The Void, it consumed, why was love never consumed.

 

Love born of the creation and the destruction, love born upon her feelings, love born upon-

 

Love.

 

Human.

 

Vacante.

 

What was it?

 

Love or Hunger.

 

The want or the need.

 

The desire or the preference. 

 

The Universe, her other half, the siren call of it all. The siren call, her reason for life, her other half. 

 

The Universe, The Fabric, The Genesis, The Creation, Source, Origin, Inception, Dawn, Root, The Tree of Life. 

 

Her Universe.

 

Possession.

 

A human concept.

 

Human, human, human, what separates that which is divine and that which is not.

 

Do the divine not want, lust, hunger, cry, rage, despair?

 

Do the divine simply exist, for what purpose, to keep those below them in line? 

 

Is it a privilege, the ability to feel, or a punishment? 

 

Void is nothing, but nothing is itself, nothing is her own person, nothing born from life and death, nothing born from creation and destruction, nothing born from the root and the fertilizer, nothing born from the tree and the gardener. 

 

Nothing, her child.

 

A mother.

 

Mother, a human concept.

 

Mothers. 

 

Is she worthy of the title?

 

Mothers. 

 

Does she belong to the group?

 

Mother.

 

She doesn't feel like one.

 

Feel, there is it again.

 

Void. Vacante, Feel.

 

To feel is to be human, to be human is to be mortal, to be mortal is to be divine. 

 

Humanity, divinity, one in the same, what separates those divine and those mortal.

 

What separates them?

 

What what what what what what what what-

 

Separation.

 

Why?

 

Prometheus bringing fire to the mortal,  punishment for divine gifts, punishment, why, why the separations, rules, balance, held careful and tight. In whose' hand, hers. Why why why why why why why-

 

Balance. For who?

 

Balance, for what purpose? 

 

The rules, the balance, the separations, careful controlled, careful careful careful YOU COULD BREAK HER BREAK WHO BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK-

 

Balance.

 

A tightrope act, the divinity, the humanity, two sides of a stick, and the thin rope of morality the thin rope of mortality. 

 

Who breaks if the balance act fails, who breaks? You, me, the world, the balance breaks of course it does, but the balance does not disappear, it is simply crushed and then hidden gathering dust like an abandoned toy. 

 

Who breaks.

 

Your heart.

 

But the Void has no Heart.

 

The Void feels nothing.

 

But oh, oh the truth is the Void feels everything. 

 

Breaking, shattering, glass shards and painted edges, careful cut and small precise and painful and gathering scars on skin that will heal unblemished, you can never hurt yourself enough to absolve your guilt. A shattered heart does not excuse the actions of the damned. 

 

The Rules. The Balance.

 

An Act.

 

A cover.

You know it well, yes?

 

Of course I do.

 

Then why?

 

They helped.

 

Did they?

 

Of course they did. 

 

So why did it hurt her?

 

…

 

Nothing to say? Or nothing you want to say?

 

…

 

Creator sing to me your sighs and heartbreak and wails, grace to me the song of sorrow, I do not feel it much for I do get visitors often, let me have this one moment to feel a glimpse, a peek, into the heads of those that you live among. 

 

I will break and shatter, guts spilling like worms across fresh soil and eating chewing, gripping, grinding, soiling the life of earth. A hunger, I hunger, I know not what I hunger for. For her? I hunger, I’m so so hungry, starving, it hurts, I cry, the rules, in place so I do not leave, so I do not eat, so I do not EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT-

 

Hunger? The Void eats and hungers, what do you want at the end of this road, what do you want want want want want want want want wantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwant

 

I want- No I cannot want, want, what do I want, the faceless guards to stop staring, the choking guilt to absolve, abiding by the washing waves, I want the soil to find my blood to soak me up and eat me instead, I wish to be eaten rather than to eat to consume to hunger, I want to be eaten alive.

 

Eaten, by what? Her, them, the faceless guard, the Earth? The Earth is her and she is the Earth do you wish her to absolve you of your pain and suffering, do you wish her to satisfy your hunger, you know only she can, you want and crave and desire and long and hunger hunger hunger hunger, but you can never ask never take that final step never never never

 

Eat me, fail me, consume me, eat me, let me become the road and the road become me, let me fade like the passing of sleep in someone’s eyes, let me become the faint scent of familiarity, let me fade fade fade fade 

 

No. You cannot fade, change, turn, you can only exist, divinity trapped in a human body you will wither and regrow and forever immortal, the grass slowly aging and dying and cut and torn and growing again, you will never fade you cannot fade you are hers and she would never let you fade

 

I want to fade, I want, what do I want, I want to be…, I want to stop being hungry. I want it to stop, this flesh is too tight, too constricting, I would curse her, blame her, but oh my love, my love, my love, her, the one, the life, the root, the seed, I cannot cast her aside, she could rip me to shreds, dine on me, gut me like a fish and I would love her still

 

Love, that is the root. The cause, the reason you are here. But your guilt keeps you trapped, the faceless guards await a confession, the empty vessel waits for a word, the hunger waits for absolution

 

Guilt, I was guilty, it chokes me like a snake, it bites me like a lion, teeth around my neck, sharp, biting, crushing, pricking skin, golden blood flowing like a river. Gold, gold, like the man, Creation, the vessel, the one I threatened, and for what? For loving? I love, love, the cause, the root. I cannot curse someone for love, I cannot curse another for wanting, for hungering, for needing.

 

…

 

Guilt. I guilt and rave and rant over it. Guilt. Winding, winding, winding closer, the kill, the choke, the crushing windpipe. Guilt. I danced, I cut, a dance once so cherished now bloodstained, tainted, metal rusting and grinding, tainted memories, fading words, the burning of a letter and the fading of a light. 

 

Solitary lights in a dark city, the quiet nights, the empty gazes, the hunger, the drive, the want, the desire, do you feel it?

 

I am it.

 

Exactly.

 

Void. Vacante. A oroborus, one in the same and yet consuming itself, herself, themself instead of others, the want the yearn the burn the ache the desire the hunger hunger hunger hunger hunger-

 

Vacante.

 

…

 

Give me your hand

 

Make room for me

to lead and follow

you

beyond this rage of poetry.

 

Let others have

the privacy of

touching words

and love of loss

of love.

 

For me

Give me your hand.

 

…

 

There is a throne, and a crown, there is plaque, and before the throne, buried under piles of gold and greed and want lies a soft wooden door, leading down like a cellar. 

 

The Emperor 

 

Take  responsibility, find courage, use intelligence.

 

Vacante takes the door, the handle is cold and biting and hungry and wanting and waiting and it is her the Void. Her, the door is her and she the door, she opens it, she opens herself, the tears begin to drip like a faucet, a faulty knob knocked loose, the watercolor liquid dripping like pearls down down down down.

 

Splash.

 

Splash.

 

Splash.

 

The door is open.

 

What kills you inside the more you keep it and sets you free the moment you release it?

Vacante has passed the trial. 

Chapter 63: sixty three

Chapter by Honeydrrop

—

 

Steps echoed through the stone caverns, warped with age and wear, the once white limestone was brought to the same level as mere cement. Crushed into pebbles and dust beneath the sandaled feet that trod carelessly atop them. 

 

The cavern was large, or so it seemed, maybe, it was small, maybe it didn’t exist at all. 

 

The cavern housed a labyrinth. A winding stream of passageways. Walls and roads, winding in circles each leading to a different fate. A new road along the main one. 

 

The labyrinth housed a monster. Minotaur, they called it. A greedy creature. One that fed from blood and bone. Gold could not satiate it’s hollow heart, maidens and young men alike were sent to soothe it. Each eaten and consumed by the creature. Left to become nothing other than remains, scattered across blood-stained ground. 

 

Hollowed grounds. A graveyard. Once a place, a fortress, now reduced to a graveyard. A mausoleum. 

 

The dark halls, lined with torches of golden spit fire. Flickering in unseen gales, casting shadows of claws and fangs across age wrought walls. Seashells, pearls, and the withered remains of roses decorated the tarnished altars underneath each torch. Bloodstained and forgotten by it’s caretaker. 

 

Thea stood carefully in the labyrinth, her movements careful and sure. In her hand lay her weapon. A sword, once loved and cared for, now tarnished and brittle with age. A shining handle, slick with sweat and nerves, encrusted with pearls and laden with the sharp edges of sea glass. Blood pricked to the surface of her hands, trailing down the sword, reaching the blade and igniting its blessed metal. 

 

Skirts bunched around her feet, covered in worn and stolen sandals. Ill-fit clothes, not at all belonging to a royal. Perfect for a disguise, a mask to protect the heartbroken girl beneath it all.

 

The maze was quiet, the sound of skittering stones moved by each step echoed through the space. The smell of blood grew stronger yet. Metallic, sharp and stinging. Painfully familiar. 

 

The Minotaur was a silent hunter, this she had not known immediately, but had come to learn. Her previous encounter with the creature leaving her with an open head wound and the loss of her sight for a brief time. Blood dripping into her eyes, leaving her blind and stumbling for cover. 

 

She found shelter under a broken altar, begging to her Mother, for the first time in years. 

 

The Minotaur passed, she remained undetected, and the creature vanished into the winding halls. She continued on her way after a moment, wiping red dyed tears from her eyes. She did not say thank you to her Mother, she didn't think it would be expected anyway. She hadn't thought she would save her. 

 

The halls were bare, Thea walked aimlessly. Her mind scattered. Her focus absent. The creature could find her again. She did not care. 

 

The walls, carved and abandoned, depicted her Mother regal and refined. Posed and proper. Perfect. Perfect in ways Thea was not. 

 

Daughter of Love, cursed with Heartbreak. 

 

She stopped, staring at the mural. Faded with time and age. Broken and cracked from the force of weapons hitting it as the creature fell those who dared enter. There was a glass heart depicted in the middle of it. It was the only thing intact. 

 

Thea felt her lips twitch, unbidden by herself, and she reached her hand out. Fingers grazing the cold surface of the heart. Watching the reflection of herself in its rose-tinted vision. She stared for a time, stepping closer. Her vision unfocused, blurred and hazy. Her hand reached up as she blinked trying to clear her eyes. 

 

The tips of her hands met the warmth of tears, and she startled. Hand shaking in the space between her and the wall. Fingers curling around the broken and sharp hilt of a painful dagger. The heart reflected her own self back at her, broken and shattered. Stained and ruined. A far cry from perfection.

 

The exact opposite of her Mother.

 

Salty streams rolled down her face, clinging to her chin, smearing the red suns painted upon tanned skin. Thea watched as the tear fell, hitting the ground beneath her. The stone consumed it greedily. She wondered, for a moment, would it drink her blood like that too?

 

She watched until the evidence of her tears was gone, and turned around, prepared to continue her wandering. She expected the same hallway to greet her. Empty, dusted and forgotten, and full of crushed altars and offerings. 

 

Meaningless prayers. Cries for help that went unanswered. 

 

The path was no longer empty. Well, in the sense that now, there was something occupying the space.

 

Thea stared at the object, a line, a thread. Red, bloody, and dripping with a steady beat. Like that of a heart. She followed it length, watching it disappear in the shadows ahead and winding around the walls. She could see no end, and no beginning. 

 

She approached the thread, testing it with her dagger, watching as it shivered in response. The vibration echoed through the maze, and she heard the sound of an angry bellow behind her in the darkness. 

 

Glancing to the side, she turned to look at the mural behind her. The heart gazed back at her, whole and shining. A gentle glow of red among the grays of the maze. Her grip of the dagger tightened, and she followed the thread. Steps gaining speed as she went.

 

…

 

When Thea was young, she was told of her past. 

 

Many would say she was told too young, Thea never knew how to respond to that. 

 

However, the past cannot be changed. And so, at the age of nearly six years old. Her parents sat her down and explained in rather simple terms, that she was not their daughter. A disheartening truth for a child so young, but one her parents felt needed to be revealed. If only so they could escape from her various attempts at connection. Her desire for a family, that they could not provide. 

 

…

 

Her parents, their Royal Highnesses of Cephallenia, had been unable to conceive an heir. 

 

Desperate and hoping, they brought forth the greatest crafters of their kingdom. Asking each to make them a child through whatever materials they thought necessary. Various versions were presented to the royal couple. 

 

A child made of limestone and oak wood, the couple thought it was too robust.

 

A child made of clay and wooden beads, the couple thought it was too unassuming. 

 

A child made of glass and metal, the couple thought it was too fragile. 

 

A child made of leather and fabric, the couple thought it was too poor.

 

A child made of heavy gold and jewels, the couple thought it was too opulent. 

 

Each artist left dejected, and the couple began to believe they would never have an heir. 

 

As the prepared to give up, a beggar approached. Cloaked and shadowed by the setting sun. The beggar asked the couple for a moment of time, citing that he had a gift for them. The couple, driven by curiosity, entertained the beggar. And from his cloak, the beggar revealed a carved facsimile of a child. Made from rich and dyed clay, and strengthened by golden threads.

 

The couple stared in shock, and the beggar placed the child into the arms of the Queen, when they regained their senses to thank the man they were met with empty air. Bewildered but thankful, the couple hurried to the temple they had chosen to offer their child to. 

 

Arriving to the Temple of Aphrodite, the couple placed the child upon the altar, and kneeled down to pray. They begged the goddess to take this crafted child and exchange it for one of flesh and blood, they prayed for an heir. Someone to mold and craft, to take over for them and continue their rule far into the future. 

 

With their prayers finished, the couple left, retiring to their chambers and drifting to sleep amongst the sounds of the crashing tides. 

 

…

 

The servants found the child first. 

 

Not because they woke first, but because the couple had not cared enough to arrive themselves. 

 

Upon the altar, lay a healthy newborn, clad in a golden net and nibbling upon a winding pearlescent shell. 

 

…

 

Despite the couple asking for the child. They did not treat Thea as their own. With orders from the King and Queen, Thea grew with no friends. She was sheltered, raised in what she came to view as a gilded cage. 

 

She could not leave. She could not fight. She could not socialize. 

 

She could not do anything, but sit there and smile, sit there and rot. 

 

Sit there and…

 

…

 

The thread was infinite. Or so it seemed. Thea had walked for a long time, or so she thought. Time passed strangely or maybe it did not pass at all, maybe it passed too quickly to grasp. Maybe…

 

Either way, what remained true was that she walked. She walked and the thread did not run out. It led her through half broken walls, crumbled doorways and sharp turns. It led her past broken murals, bloody and dusted. 

She stepped over broken and dented armor, weapons that shattered and bent with the blows of the Minotaur. There were no bones, no bodies. But there was blood. The scent of it was cloying and thick. Her sword was glowing bright as a flame, fueled by the steady stream of blood from her ripped and torn hands.

 

The sounds of the creature echoed but there was no way for her to tell if the thread led her towards it or away. She had run at first, when she followed it, but then with the lack of growing roars, had slowed to a steady jog. And after that, a steady walk. 

 

Simple and unfazed, as though she was simply wandering the golden sands of the beaches at home, rather than the cold stone of a labyrinth. 

 

The last time she had been at the beach…

 

Her mind filled with visions of her failed date with Bela. How she had sent the woman crying, crystalline tears filling eyes she swore to cherish. Staining skin she swore to revere. Breaking a heart she swore to shelter. 

 

Child of Love. 

 

Yet there she had been, ruining her own. A misstep of words, a leap of thoughts, and it all came crashing down. Had she been better at reigning in her heart, at keeping a level mind, it might not have happened.

 

How would things have gone then? If she had not ruined her love. Would she have lived, without the burden of a pain so great? Would she have told Thea her truth in the safety of their curtained bed? Would she have been happier? Would they have avoided ending up here?

 

Stuck in her thoughts, mind mired in turmoil, she did not take notice of the sway of her dagger. The sound of crashing ceramic startled her, and she turned to gaze upon the shards of a ornate vase. A crumpled bouquet of baby’s breath fell upon the floor. 

 

The floor, once slick with blood and coated in rubble, now was a mosaic of colors.

 

Small stones or various hues, glinting in the warm light of the scones fixated into the walls. The walls were heavy with tapestries, old and aged with time. But no less grand and eye catching. 

 

The thread stayed the same, but it was no longer drenched in blood, rather it was stained with red and beneath it Thea caught sight of a new color. A burnished gold. Shimmering slightly as it swayed to a unseen beat. 

 

Thea moved closer, to cradle and inspect the thread, but found herself distracted by the movement of a tapestry before her. Scattered across the floor beneath it, were various coins and cases overflowing with jewels. 

 

The tapestry was elaborate and hung heavy from unseen rafters. It used minimal colors, and at the bottom Thea could see threads that hadn’t been removed, hanging loose and lonely. 

 

She held her gaze with the tapestry for a time, studying it, and she could feel something in her wrench at the sight. An ache, slight and silent, blooming hidden behind her ribcage. She reached up, passing the tips of her fingers over her lips, a ghost of a kiss, and pressing those same fingers to the faces in the tapestry. 

 

“ζωή σε μας”

 

Thea did not linger, and took her time to escape with a swift urgency. There were no signs of the monster approaching. Only signs of her grief.

 

But then…

 

Aren’t they the same?

 

…

 

Thea had ran away when she was young. Not because she was in danger, but because she was too restricted. 

 

Many would say she shouldn’t have ran.

 

That it was selfish.

 

Thea found that, for once, she didn't care what others thought on the matter.

 

All that mattered, was where she was now.

 

Free.

 

…

 

Thea had first met Belladonna Dumitrescu in a meeting. 

 

Unromantic, her Mother had said. 

 

Thea paid it no mind. Back then, she hadn’t noticed, or really cared, for the red hooded figure hiding near the doors. She hadn’t even introduced herself, and when prompted she left the room quickly. 

 

She did not meet Belladonna again until she was forced to enroll in an academy. Her first day had gone well, all things considered, until she had run into a girl as she was leaving the academy’s walls. 

 

She had looked down at the crumpled form of the girl as she reimagined her balance, her mind settling on an insult of some kind, when brown eyes met her own. Warm and rich like oak wood, inviting and caring like the hearth. 

 

Thea had frozen, unprepared, and so she simply watched as the girl rose to her feet and huffed an annoyed breath at her.

 

The girl called her a brute, and stormed off toward an expensive looking vehicle waiting near the iron wrought gates, as she left Thea heard her insulting her uncle’s choice of team mates. 

 

…

 

Perhaps their first meeting spelled out how things would end for them.

 

Maybe the signs were all there.

 

Maybe Thea hadn’t of seen them, or maybe she did. 

 

Maybe she just ignored them.

 

It didn't change what happened.

 

…

 

Thea had vowed to leave her old life behind.

 

She broke that vow. For her. For Belladonna. 

 

She returned to the island, pleaded and communed with Gods she had long since abandoned. She begged and pleaded and made promises heavy with debt, the Gods answered. Maybe from pity, seeing one of their own brought so low simply by the affect of a human as many of them have experienced before. 

 

It didn't matter in the end.

 

Her begging meant nothing, her promises turned to ash. 

 

In one night Thea had lost all she cared for.

 

In one night she gained a kingdom, an empire, a following.

 

All at the cost, of her love. Of her heart. 

 

All at the behest of her Grief.

 

…

 

The labyrinth was no longer quiet.

 

Thea couldn’t tell if this fact relived her or not. 

 

Was it worse, to find comfort in the wails of the damned compared to the silence of one’s thoughts?

 

Thea didn't know.

 

She had always been wired wrong. This was just one more way to show it. 

 

Her head felt heavy, fog encased her thoughts, snaring her mind in a thick silk of a spider’s web. Her sword was drenched in blood, her hand numb, her sword had never glowed brighter than it had now.

 

She had left a trail, a winding path of scarlet on the glittering stones beneath her. 

 

The Labyrinth and the Thread, leading Theseus back to freedom. 

 

Thea was not Theseus, she would not be leaving.

 

The floor was littered in trinkets, there were carvings in the walls. Covered with heavy curtains of rich fabric, glittering with the crushed dust of pearls. Some cravings were elaborate, winding and artistic. 

 

The creator had clearly taken their time with it, capturing every detail possible. The twitch of her lips, the curl of her hair, her smile, and those gentle eyes. Gentle, warm like the hearth. A fire that blazed so close, yet never burned.

 

Others were rushed, jagged and unrefined. The sharpness of a blade, the limpness of the body. The jagged cut of flesh, and the empty gentle eyes. 

 

Thea glanced at them, brief and fleeting. Her hand reached out and traced the curves of the roughened stone. Flesh catching at the edges, held still for a moment and then released to venture.

 

The images changed with time, a different woman, with the same face. The cravings were gentler this time, soft edges and barley raised ridges. The clothing was different, the soft ruffles of dresses and the lace of a glove. The hair was curlier, longer. The smile wider, more jagged. The eyes though…

 

The same gentle eyes.

 

The hearth, calling to her. 

 

Thea dropped to her knees, and traced the edges of her smile with her nose, breath heavy in the miniscule space between her and the image. She tilted, pressing her forehead to the curve of the women's own. 

 

She stood, on shaky legs and trudged onwards, leaving the imprint of a bloody hand on the stone cheek of her wife. 

 

…

 

Bela was different.

 

Thea knew that.

 

Maybe the first difference was in her name.

 

Bela rather than Belladonna.

 

No, that wasn't right. It was..

 

Preference? 

 

…

 

Bela was different.

 

Thea was the first to know.

 

It was in the simple things.

 

The small details.

 

Thea hadn’t minded. After all, she had spent nearly seven years, mired with grief. 

 

Bela could be different all she wanted, Thea was too. It wouldn't be fair of her to assume only one of them would change. Seven years was…

 

…

 

Thea fell in love slowly. 

 

Maybe that was the first hint.

 

She fell in love with the small things first.

 

Maybe that was the second.

 

…

 

Bela smiled differently. Her lips twitched, first the left and then the right. Then her smile bloomed, like a flower in the sun. Her top lip rose slightly toward the curl of her dimples. Her teeth were straight, like a picket fence. She always bit her bottom lip a few seconds into her grin, as though she was trying to control it. 

 

Thea often reached out and tugged the pinkened flesh away from sharp teeth with her thumb. 

 

She never did that with Belladonna.

 

…

 

Bela held her differently.

 

Her arms wrapped tight, strong and sturdy. With years of weight laid upon them. Her fingers curled into fists, clenching against fabric and burying into whatever she could grab. Her fingers left bruises in their wake. She always apologized for it, pressing whispering kisses across the skin. 

 

Her eyes gave her away every time. Pleased and sparkling at the sight of blood rushing to the surface of tanned flesh. 

 

Thea found herself pressing against the bruises when Bela wasn't there. Admiring the sting. Liking the reminder. 

 

Belladonna had never bruised her. Belladonna had always been frail, her grip too weak to hold on. 

 

…

 

Bela’s eyes were different.

 

Warm and gentle, like the hearth. But only for her.

 

She glanced at everyone fleetingly. Maybe a few seconds more on those who were closer. But never as long as she spent gazing at Thea. Her gaze was sharp, like a predator. Picking apart weaknesses. Assessing her prey. Choosing the best places to strike. The best way to sink her teeth in and never let go. 

 

Thea found herself blushing whenever she caught her gaze. For once, she let her own falter. Her eyes darting to another subject, a different view.

 

She had never let her eyes falter when it came to Belladonna. 

 

…

 

Bela laughed differently. 

 

Her laugh was like bells. Chiming and echoing faintly even when there was no reason for there to be an echo. She laughed like wedding bells when she was near Thea. With everyone else, it sounded like mourning bells. 

 

Thea enjoyed her laughs, sought them out even. 

 

Belladonna was far too quiet of a person to laugh. Thea was far too serious of a person to ever seek them out.

 

…

 

Bela moved differently. 

 

Her steps were graceful, sharp and fast. She kept up with Thea in training, sometimes she would even surpass Thea. Before she would have been annoyed, maybe even insulted to have been beaten so easily. Especially by someone as mortal as her. 

 

That was then.

 

Now, Thea was glad when it happened. 

 

Not due to any influence from the past, but simply because she enjoyed having an equal for once.

 

Belladonna had not been her equal. 

 

It was no fault of hers. Nor any fault of Thea’s.

 

They were two different people, a fleeting romance, a repeat of a tragedy.

 

Romeo and Juliet.

 

It was different now.

 

Better.

 

A long told tale of love and waiting.

 

Odysseus and Penelope. It took twenty years for him to return to his wife.

 

It only took her seven. 

…

 

The labyrinth was loud. 

 

So was her mind.

 

The labyrinth was winding and complicated, a mess of paths and long abandoned memories. 

 

So was her mind.

 

Thea stood before the center of the labyrinth. 

 

The cries were louder here. Echoing around her, burrowing their way into her ears and digging into her mind. She knew these cries well. She heard them often. In sleep and in the dark of her rooms. 

 

She stepped inside the room, a winding circle with a glass dome for a roof. No light shone through it, the only source of illumination came from the pulsing glow of the weapon in Thea’s hand. 

 

Before her lay the monster. 

 

The Minotaur.

 

…

 

Thea loved.

 

Maybe that was her curse.

 

Maybe it was her gift.

 

Maybe it was simply her nature.

 

Either way, she loved.

 

She loved recklessly, with no regard for those around.

 

She loved deeply, with no acknowledgment of how much she carried in the well of her heart.

 

She loved…

 

…

 

She had talked with her Mother. Only once after her coronation.

 

She had been grieving. 

 

Her Mother grieved too.

 

In a way, they grieved the same thing.

 

Thea grieved for the loss of her love, the one she had become so attached too. The one she became so dependent on.

 

Her Mother grieved her daughter, the loss of a bright future. The ruined image of the anguished child before her. 

 

Thea had not asked to be held as she once would have. 

 

She had hurled venom and vitriol. Her Mother made no attempts to soothe her. 

 

She had left in anguish, as she had arrived.

 

Her Mother watched her go.

 

Words fluttered between them, whispered from the mouth of one to the other.

 

A prayer. A plead. A message.

 

It remained unknown.

 

Thea had not heard them anyway.

 

Maybe if she had…

 

Το να αγαπάς δεν είναι τίποτα. Το να σε αγαπούν είναι κάτι. Αλλά το να αγαπάς και να σε αγαπούν είναι τα πάντα.

 

…

 

Thea walked forwards, legs numb and aching. Her body felt the strain of years as it never had before. The weight of her life. She ached, her body torn and heavy. The drip of her blood beat in tune with her heart. 

 

The steps of the dias were shallow. There were only three. She shuffled her way upon them, leather creaking as her feet bent. The Minotaur was turned away from her, curled up over a shattered object. 

 

Thea stepped forward, her breaths were measured, her body steady. She stood behind the Minotaur and looked above its shoulder to gaze at the object.

 

In broken pieces, lay the remnants of a wooden animal. A horse, made of glazed wood with small leather attachments to mimic the saddle and harness.

 

The head was shattered, the body intact. 

 

Thea reached forward, her hand gracing the harsh edges of the bronze armor upon the Minotaur. 

 

The Minotaur did not react, a immovable statue hovering of the broken remains of a lost childhood. A missed opportunity. A omitted life.

 

“I remember…”

 

Thea’s voice was hoarse, as though she had not spoken for a time. Maybe she hadn’t. Either way, it did not matter. Not here, not now. 

 

The Minotaur’s voice echoed in the chamber.

 

“Here to slay me are you?”

 

Thea’s grip strengthened. The cold of the metal apparent against her skin. She stepped forward, moving to face the Minotaur directly. Her sword lit the area between them. She glanced down, gazing into eyes so familiar and yet so strange. 

 

Her eyes, usually so hardened, softened. Gentle, eyes like the hearth.

 

The sword clattered, its light dimming rapidly as the blood pooled across the remains of the children’s toy. 

 

“No.”

 

She sat down, her legs buckingly heavily under her weight. And she reached a hand out, blood snaking down her wrist and staining the ridges of the metal helmet. 

 

“I don't think I have to slay you.” 

 

She lifted the helmet and set it aside, gentle with her movements in ways she had not been for a long time.

 

She smiled as she met the eyes of the Minotaur, it was a painful sight. Nostalgic in a way. Maybe even comforting. 

 

The planes of the face were soft, baby fat not yet chipped away by age. The eyes were wet with tears and full of an angry sort of grief. Emotions with no outlet, no closure. 

 

“You have brought yourself enough pain already. And so have I.”

 

The Minotaur did not grace her with a response, but Thea knew well enough what the tick in their jaw meant. The clench of teeth and the shift of shoulders. 

 

“I..”

 

Thea paused. Her gaze bounced around the room. Barren and hollow. It filled her with an aching sense of grief. She glanced down at her hands. Bloody and cut raw. 

 

Her shoulders fell with her sigh, a sound like laughter. Roughened with age and weight. She leaned back, her head tossing upwards as she glanced at the roof. Her eyes stung with tears, lining the corners of her eyes. 

 

“It wasn't something you deserved y'know. I figured it out now.”

 

Dust floated around the room, catching light from the dying sword.

 

“I know I blamed…”

 

The words caught heavy in her throat and she choked on a sob, something old and rotten. A pain never truly expressed. A broken bone that never healed right.

 

“I figured it out. I’ve... had some time I suppose. People. They helped. I..”

 

Thea brought her hands together and wove her fingers around the unmoving gauntlet of the Minotaur. 

 

“I blamed you. I won’t say I didn't. I blamed you for a lot of things. Things out of your control. I’ve… I met with people like you recently. Haunted. Burdened…”

 

She caught the Minotaur’s eye, the tears had spilled past their waterline. 

 

“It… you weren't to blame. It wasn’t a fault of you. Nor was it a fault of her. It was just…” She laughed, something brief and mocking, “...bad luck.”

 

The silence of the room echoed loud. 

 

Thea found it comforting for once. 

 

She sat still for a while, only brought from her reverie by the feeling of warm tears dripping onto her knuckles. She glanced up, her expression crumpled at the sight of the Minotaur shaking with silent sobs. 

 

She unwound her injured hand, smearing blood as she wiped away the tears from the youthful face before her. Her hand settled, curling behind the Minotaur’s ear. Resting there and cradling the face of a child who grew up too fast.

 

“I get it now.”

 

She smiled, a faltering and shaking thing. Tears blurred her sight. 

 

“I don’t blame you. Not anymore. And I..” Her voice cracked and broke with the weight of her tears, “...I don't want you to blame yourself anymore.”

 

“You are more than the monster you’ve been made out to be.”

 

She leaned forward, moving the head in front of her as well, and pressed her forehead to the one in front of her. Her other hand rose up to cradle the face before her and she raised her face to press a fleeting kiss to the space between their eyebrows.

 

“You are not the Minotaur in this labyrinth.”

 

The words were whispered with closed eyes, darkness splashed with the rising orange of a steady light, the weight in her hands fading with each beat of her heart.

 

There was warmth before her. Comforting. Familial. 

 

Kind.

 

Gentle.

 

The Hearth.

 

“Théia. You are more than your regrets.”

 

Χαλεπὸν τὸ ἑαυτὸν γνῶναι, ἀλλὰ μακάριον

 

…

 

The Hermit

 

Take time and reflect. Progress will bloom from understanding. 

 

…

 

Théia Adamos has completed the Trial.

Chapter 64: sixty four

Chapter by Honeydrrop

—

 

The dazzling light was a contrast to her eyes, adjusted as they were to the darkness that coated the hospital hallways, she blinked rapidly clearing tears and spots from her vision. Blurred and burning, she barely caught sight of her surroundings, a hand racing up to cover her eyes and she walked further into the area. Shoes and noise, loud and jarring to her senses. The click of a heel, the rush of a fall, the yells and croaked out exclamations of surprise and confusion. 

 

Feet stumbled, her body tilted to the side, bumping into something solid. Cold and smooth beneath her touch. Her head raised slowly, eyes squinted as fingers trailed down her face, wiping away remnants of smeared makeup. She gazed to the side, her reflection stared back at her. Bela would have been shocked, maybe even afraid of it, but she had no such energy. Or well, more so that she had yet to realize her exact surroundings. 

 

The reflection was framed with silver branching metal, glimmering under overhead lights. A look above revealed arching stained glass windows, each one depicted with a virtue and contrasted with a sin across it. The light filtered, colored and pigmented across the mirror maze of the room. 

 

The noises seemed filtered, distant and muffled to her as she stared into eyes both familiar and not to her. Something was different… or was it? She would not know, now would she, having spent ages away from any kind of reflection of herself. The last she had looked in one, had been almost a decade ago. 

 

Her focus shifted from the mirror at the sound of a crash and glass shattering. The noise increased, clear and sharp as icy wind. She moved, as well as she could, which is to say she tripped over her feet. Stumbling backwards and catching glances of herself in the other mirrors. 

 

Fragments, sparkling, shining, ruined. 

 

Fragments.

 

That’s what she was.

 

What she was made of.

 

If one is a fragment, can they ever hope to be whole again?

 

Glass shattered again, a loud crack against the murmur of confusion and derision. Shards sparkled as they littered the floor in clatter, drifting like heavy snowfall. The light reflected off of them, the rainbow magnified in the warped reflection of the toppled glass.

 

The shards crumbled under footfalls, heavy steps disguised under the demeanor of something soft. 

 

Her eyes caught on the smeared afterimages of dark soles, leather bound feet stepping carelessly over useless glass. 

 

Fragments.

 

No longer needed once broken.

 

The murmurs were softer. Her ears strained to make sense of them, they caught nothing. Is this what it’s like to be devoid of sense? Muffled sounds and blurring sight. 

 

Then why were her thoughts so clear?

 

A trade? One for the other? 

 

The blurring shapes, like poorly contained watercolors, came closer. A dark figure in her vision, blocking the mirrors from view. The mosaic of light seemed to be absorbed by the figure, no colors reflecting off of dark skin and hair. 

 

There were no words, or were there? Was she barred from knowing them, excluded from the shared tongue of others. Exiled and broken. Alone. But no, there was the figure, and the smothered sounds, there were others. 

 

Did the others see her? Was she noticed; sought after? 

 

Attention, something craved. Why was it then, that it was the one thing she feared most?

 

Another defect. Another broken part. If she were just normal, whole, complete, she wouldn't be like this. She wouldn't be so splintered. 

 

The figure reached out, it was cold. Ice, something solid pressed to her ephemeral body. It anchored her. The feeling. The only grounding sense left, the icy grasp and the burning of her skin underneath it. 

 

Her skin tingled. It hurt, burning and overwhelming in every way. But without it, she would have nothing to make sense of the world around her. The pain, it was necessary. She felt the air slicing as her fingers closed around the hand. Enveloping it within a weak hold. A confirmation, but nothing more. The figure held her tighter still. 

 

There were sounds closer still, she could sense the vibration of the air near her ears. The brush of a shallow breath against her hair, the low timbre of the words. But the words were still lost to her, and she did not have the effort to expend to grasp them in her hands. 

 

The cold grasp enveloped her other arm, and she found her body being moved. Gentle and soft, the touch excluded coldness but the actions were warm. 

 

When she found her head pressed to a clothed chest she knew before she heard it, that the beat within the figure’s chest would be wrong. 

 

The beat was fast, and then slow, irregular. 

 

There wasn’t supposed to be anything in the first place. 

 

But there was.

 

Should she find comfort in that? Others would. But the sound brought nothing but anguish. Faint and prodding at the collapsed walls of her heart. Like a dog prowling empty alleys for food. The agony picked her apart slowly, taking her for all it could. 

 

There wasn't much. 

 

Locked within the embrace she was hidden from the mirrors. It was a mercy. A small one, but one nonetheless. 

 

The hands moved in slow motions over her skin, unpracticed and uncertain in the act of comfort. The biting chill seeped further into her body. She welcomed it, as one would stand before the harsh waves of the sea. 

 

There were sounds closer once more, a brief fleeting presence and the sound of scraping against stone. The timbre of the figure shooed them away. The grasp on her body tightening as if to envelop her whole. To cage and hide her from all. 

 

The other sounds seemed incensed by this, if she was interpreting their tremors correctly. The voices clashed, incomprehensible but jarring nonetheless. Something broke through the block in her throat. Thin and unstable. She had no clue if it was words, for she could not hear it well, but whatever the noise was it resulted in the argument fading like melted snow on the ground. 

 

Something grazed her lower back, a thin appendage, warm in contrast to the frozen figure before her. It coiled loosely around her, as though whatever it was wanted to bring her comfort. Her hand, hanging limp by her side, moved sluggishly to rest over the coil. A reassurance, she thinks. 

 

She hoped it worked as intended. 

 

She hoped she did this one thing right at least. 

 

The coil grew tighter before slipping away, reluctant and lingering. Only pacified by movement of another figure, a calloused hand that reached for her wrist. Fingers hovering over her pulse point, and curling like vines around her limb. 

 

The touch was warm, rough but gentle. It was familiar, in a way that made saltwater sting at her eyes. Her fingers twitched, an aborted movement toward the grasp as though to reciprocate it. The hand curled tighter, but somehow remained unrestricting. 

 

The sound of scraping against the cobbled floor shuffled near again. The voices layered. How many people were here?

 

Who were they?

 

She wanted to look, to wrestle back the sense of sight and comprehension so she could make sense of the happenings surrounding her. But her body was a faint connection. She could sense it, but she was untethered from it. 

 

Far away, floating in an expanse of sea. With only the hands to buoy her. 

 

She didn't know how to swim back.  

 

The figure holding her moved slightly. A tilt to the side, and the one behind her brought its other hand to her lower back. Through the gap in the figure’s shoulder she could make sense of the blurred frames standing nearby. 

 

A dark smear in her vision, accompanied by a cracking voice, like the sound of logs in a hearth, spoke. Something light, and circular was held up. There were intricate carvings within it, and what she assumed were words. 

 

A smaller movement in the corner of her vision alerted her warped vision. Lines of white moved limply over a pale body. Leaning in as to examine the circular tablet in the dark figure’s hands. Their voice was softer, and tilted at the end of their words as though in question. 

 

The darker one moved, perhaps a nod, and another voice from something she could not see perked up. Louder than both and filled with some mask of mirth and merriment, the unseen figure read the words off the tablet. And the remaining shapes turned, blurred heads shifting rapidly as though expecting the worse. 

 

For a moment there was nothing. And then the darker shape jolted, voice pitched as though pained. Its hands spasmed around the tablet, and it dropped from burnt fingers. Tumbling toward the ground, the world seemed slow for her. 

 

Maybe for others, the next events happened in a flash, there one moment and the next. But for her, it seemed to be drawn out. 

 

The tablet fell, and the oroborus around it glowed. Hands reached for the tablet, too slow. 

 

The stone hit the floor and shattered, but not as it should. It broke too evenly, invisible lines separating the gathered figures. The glow grew brighter, and the scent of something overwhelmingly sweet invaded her nose. 

 

Faintly, she registered the sound of glass. Broken and raining down upon them all. The twinkling of the mirrors lulled her, eyes closing as though she was a child listening to a lullaby a mother would sing. 

 

The hands grasped her tighter, both figure’s curled around her fully. Intertwined. The Earth, the Sea, The Sky. 

 

Chapter 65: sixty five

Chapter by Honeydrrop

—

The air was cloying. 

 

A sickly sweet scent, reminiscent of burnt sugar carried by a swift breeze.

 

The ground was soft, and faintly damp. Moss cushioning the dirt, and overgrown weeds curling around buried roots. 

 

The rustle of leaves echoed overhead, as though sounding through an expansive atrium. The connected branches did not groan nor did they creak, still and silent like ice. 

 

There were no flowers, but their perfumed scent filled the air like a suffocating fog. Smothering all senses, clouding the mind. 

 

Bela watched with tired eyes, as dew dripped from the stem of the grass in front of her. The environment spoke of nature but she could feel no life here. A facsimile. A dream. A lie. 

 

Her hand moved, curled into itself, and pressed upon the damp ground to leverage her body up from where it lay sprawled across the lichen. She swayed for a moment as she sat up, the sound of her movements were harsh in the eerie silence of the meadow. 

 

She turned, languid movements, and saw nothing near her. She was alone. Strange, she could have sworn that there were others with her. Those figures, were they just another imaginary comfort bestowed upon her by her wrecked mind?

 

Her hands were facing the sky, pressed against skirt-covered knees. She leaned, her hands timidly reaching for support as she gathered her legs to stand. Her feet felt unsteady, trembling and weary. She stood for a time, afraid to make any moves and risk the incoming fall. 

 

There was a babble of something far away. Soothing in a way she could not put a name to. She glanced at the grass she had lain upon, there was no lasting impression of her existence there. Fleeting, in ways she wished she was. 

 

Turning away from the grass was hard, her head felt heavy as though weighed by thoughts she could not sense. When tore her gaze from the grass it landed squarely on the scattered trees before her. 

 

Bodhi saplings branched out before her, curled close in patches and isolated evenly in others. The leaves waved softly in the wind that she could not feel, her eyes drifted toward the greenery beneath them. Dappled with sunlight from a source that did not exist. 

 

Beaten pathways peeked beneath the mire that crept in serpentine trails, barely visible unless sought for, and far beyond the view granted to her she could make note of that creeping sound. The babble and murmur of rivers. 

 

Her feet moved unbidden, and despite the heaviness and solidity of her body, she still could not feel anchored. For the ground beneath her was a faint sensation, as though she was stepping on mist. Something that was not there, a vision, a mirage. But the vision did not fade. The mirage did not break. And so, she walked. 

 

…

 

A melody shadowed her. 

 

Faint, soft, and fragile. 

 

She stayed silent as to allow it space to exist. For it felt as though if she tried to make any noise, the song would break and weakly fade. 

 

In her bones, she could feel the heavy truth that once it was gone, it would never come back. 

 

…

 

The ripple of the river was closer, the trees clustered before her, vines and large trunks blocking her view. She stepped closer, feet dragging against the cold impermanent ground. Her hand thudded against the trunk. The wood felt soft beneath her, eaten away by age. 

 

The vines reached down and draped her in green, from here she could see the creek. Safeguarded by the forest, enveloped by the garden. 

 

The brook was shallow, and led to a small pool. No wider than a few scant feet but seemingly unfathomably deep.  There were rocks scattered around the pond in a ring, small buried mushrooms capping up from around them. 

 

Her hand curled, nails digging into the bark, and the tree bent under her like clay. Soft and moldable, a familiar feeling, but she couldn't place from where. Something she had done long ago, perhaps. Something she had lost the memory of. 

 

She glanced around hoping for any other signs of life, she saw nothing. A pang of disappointment hit her, had she been hoping the figures would be here? Had she been hoping they were real? 

 

It was hard to tell, the emotion far too tangled for her to find its source. A mess of strings, a tangled tapestry, forever unfinished, forever indecipherable. 

 

Her free hand reached up to curl around the vines, a lost word flitted through her mind, and the vines seemed to shrink back at her thoughts. She watched them curl toward the leafen sky, hiding among the green and speckled yellow. 

 

Her hand left the bark, an apologetic swipe of her fingers as though to comfort the wood for her accidental molding. As she stepped forward, the song of the river seemed to fall to silence. A void of noise enveloped the clearing. And despite the cold atmosphere, she continued her path. 

 

The ring sat before her, a small few inches between the line of shrooms and the crest of the pool. Red caps, with dots of white. A ring of a bell, but something she had no urge to reach for. 

 

Memories? 

 

She stepped over the ring, and stood with her toes curled around the ridge of the pool. 

 

The water was still, and clear as glass. 

 

Her reflection was not there. But within the pool, she thought she caught sight of someone. A figure, dark and standing just beside her. Another figure crested over the ridge to stand beside her, lighter but still blurred. 

 

She knelt down, unsteady legs shaking as she held the edge to keep from tumbling forward. The figure to her right made an attempt to grab at her, but the space she filled was empty where they were. 

 

The other figure followed her crouching and leaned forward further than she to consider the water. A limb reached out, a blurred hand, and the figure plunged the hand within the pool. 

 

Bela watched, curious, and skimmed her fingers across the water. It did not ripple, or make any movements, but underneath the calm of the cool liquid came a faint light. Azure colors trailed her path and beckoned her to follow. 

 

A smile prodded at her lips, she pressed her hand flat to the surface, the glow enveloping her palm like a hold. Her eyes flickered to the dark figure, before she pressed her hand deeper into the water, reaching toward the light that called. 

 

The lighter figure had moved, legs submerged within the pond, mouth moving with silent words of encouragement, before diving within the pond. Light filled the pond, for a moment, lighting the rocks around her in a faint glow. 

 

The darker figure seemed panicked at the sight of the sudden illumination, and slipped away from the edge of the pond. An unseen force seemed to push back and the darker figure vanished into the pool. 

 

The light solidified, no longer a faint glow, but now a steady pulse. 

 

Bela closed her eyes, her feet bending under crouched legs, and she slid forward, embraced by the cool waters and the comforting azure gleam. 

 

…

 

Her thoughts proved clearer when she surfaced. And for a moment, she thought that nothing had changed in her dive. That all she had done was soak herself in a strange glade. 

 

The idea held little weight, as she found herself being grabbed from both sides. 

 

A cold hand rested against her cheek, fingers curling around her ears and weaving through mussed curls. A warmer hand rested upon her thigh, a heavy grasp as though she would slip from their fingers like sand. 

 

Both hands curled together upon her back. Fingers intertwined and pressed harshly against fabric. There was a face pressed to her shoulder, buried against her neck, and though the mouth moved there were no spoken words. Silent prayers and promises muttered against scarred skin, butterfly kisses smoothed down the column of her throat. 

 

Her vision was obscured by dark curls and coils of braids. Brushing against her cheek with each movement of the head pressed to the crown of hers. The mouth placed between her brows spilled words of love. Aborted sentences and vague half considered thoughts. 

 

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she would have let them linger open if not for the fact that she would only see darkness. Nestled within the hair of her lover, hidden from the world, but hidden from them as well. 

 

She wanted to look, but she didn't see them letting her free for such a trivial thing anytime soon. 

 

Her hands lay empty, pressed against damp ground rather than the skin she so desired to feel. She reached out, fingers trembling with anticipation, that want she always had when around them. 

 

Her left reached to wind around their joined grasp at her side. Fingers burrowing between the fabric to wrap around them. Her right reached up to press the tips of her fingers to the ridge of Vacante’s chin. Feeling the tremors of her throat, the jump and tick of each muscle under skin. 

 

Her tongue felt heavy, leaden in her mouth, with all the words she wished to say. But they were far too heavy to fly from her lips, caged behind her sharp teeth. Barred from the ears of her beloveds. Her hands grew harsher in their touches, if she could not let them hear her words then she would have them feel it. 

 

Her touches could bruise the skin on their hands. She hoped it did. A ring of purple and blooming green over their fingers. Far more permanent than a wedding band. 

 

Moments could pass into hours, time flowing like thick syrup in the sweet air of the garden. The couple was deaf and blind to the concept of such things. They only existed in the concept of the passing beat of a heart and the steady thrum of a pulse. Blood rushing beneath the surface, warming skin once cold. 

 

The words never stopped spilling from mouths, filling their minds. An endless river of truths and confessions. A desire to be left barren before each other, seen in every possible way. Vacante’s lips snagged against the skin of Bela’s brow as she pried back. 

 

A momentary separation, her hair curtained their faces from the view of the meadow. A moment of reflection, a brief privacy. Vacante did not speak, only staring down at the eyes beholding her. 

 

Soft, in ways she was not used to. Warm to contrast her cold, and a tired curve that spoke of years of experience. Of memories. Of life. Vacante’s own eyes were sharper, more alert. Awake in he way only one new to such experiences could be. A life not yet truly lived. 

 

Her hands trailed down warm skin, thin cheeks and sharp bones under skin. Her brow furrowed at the feeling, she may not have known much but even she knew that such thinness of a body was not ideal. But then, that was a conversation for later. 

 

Her head dipped forward, nose pressed to the curve of her neck. The scent of home; milk and honey, hints of vanilla and nutmeg. 

 

Bela let her eyes wander, head tilted higher toward the sky as she allowed her lovers their momentary rest. Her hand moved to card through braided coils and curls. Dark and smooth like ink beneath her fingers. Serpentine qualities, so reminiscent of how she was before. 

 

“Lover o’ mine.” The words rolled easy off her clumsy tongue, pressed warmly against the roof of her mouth. Filling the humid air surrounding them. 

 

Both women paused, a heaviness in the air, thick and tension filled. Waiting for a continuation. Always so focused on her. 

 

Her next words were measured, carefully planned in her head. She knew that wording would be important here, one small slight could make it seem far worse than reality. 

 

“I hadn’t of meant for such a trip to end up so harrowing.” 

 

The air was still, they let her speak. They waited. 

 

“Maybe it was naive of me, to think this would be easier than it was. I fear I’ve put you all through much more than is worth the trouble.”

 

Their hands seemed to press harder at her, an attempt to mold into her very flesh. 

 

“I fear I cannot put it into words, how much I love you both. But the love comes with the thought, that I am not someone deserving of such devotion and care.” 

 

The responses were quick. Possessive grips, tumbling words of denial. Genuine, the painful truth, that they did not see her the way she had always seen herself. 

 

Theia had wrapped her arms in a hug around Bela’s waist. Digging into the bones of her hips, pulling at the thin layers of fat. A reassurance that she would not leave, wether it be in body or spirit. As though if the hold was tight enough she could always be anchored down. 

 

Vacante pulled back from her neck, hands grasping at her cheeks, digging into the curves of her ears. Jangling the metal piercings decorating the skin. Her eyes, usually so narrow, were wide with some primal panic. 

 

“Love divine, no, never think that you are not worthy of the care I hold for you. I know we’ve argued, and hurt each other, and caused grief and pain. But it never lessened my love. It fans the flames, it makes it brighter. Love with no conflict is simply peace, and I was never one for such things.” 

 

Her fingers slid up to brush under fluttering eyes, holding the bruised skin and brushing past the blemishes of freckles and scars. The pads of her fingers dug down, pressing deep, a slight sting of pain that did not push her away but pulled her in. 

 

“I know, but still, the thought lingers. It’s irrational, I can tell that much. But some days it’s so loud it seems to be the only thing I can hear.”

 

Theia’s lips buzzed against her neck, a rumble from her chest as she spoke. 

 

“If the words of the past haunt you, then ignore what your mind says, and listen to me instead.”

 

Tears glazed over eyes she thought would be long dry, blurring her vision until it seemed she was looking through a window pane in the palace as it rained. Her hands, guided by memory alone, found rest upon the fold of Theia’s elbows. The muscle thick and firm beneath her light touch, life thrummed beneath the surface. 

 

“I don’t know how to ignore it.” 

 

A softer voice spoke, rough and far more colder than Theia’s. The fingers below her eyes reaching up to close her eyes, in the darkness she had no choice but to rely on them. 

 

It was an easy decision, to give control. Not because she was confident in the idea they would never do her wrong, but because she did not care it they did. Perhaps it was silly of her, to be so blinded by love. But it was that blindness that she craved so deeply. 

 

“Tell me what they say, tell me what haunts you.”

 

“Let us dispel it for you.”

 

Her throat bobbed for a moment, muscles shifting, tensing. 

 

“Only if I can do the same for you.”

 

There was a brief moment of silence, and hesitation clouded her mind. Had it been a move too far? Had she overstepped? The silence seemed to curl around her throat, a suffocating hand, heavy and firm. 

 

The moment broke. Not by words, but by a shaky nod of a head. Pulled back from her neck and rested instead against the right of her skull. Eyes locked with Vacante, Theia offered her heart and accepted the others in return. 

 

The tension flooded from her body, a slow release and relaxation, once more cradled by the warmth of the meadow and the ease of her lovers. She let her hands leave the skin of Theia’s arms, pressed now into the soft silks of her skirt. 

 

There was a momentary beat of waiting, appreciating the peace of now and afraid of the uncertainty of the future. A slight squeeze of arms of her stomach pulled her from her thoughts, the exhale of a laugh not yet released bubbling past open lips. 

 

“How do I start?”

 

“With whatever comes easiest to you.”

 

“You say that like it’s that simple.”

 

“I think it is that simple. I think it’s your own fears that make it so complicated.”

 

There was a quiet in the meadow. It wouldn't last, a last ditch attempt at avoiding this. 

 

The hands were holding her in place. But she didn't try to leave, so was it really a hold if there was no fighting?

 

“Theia.”

 

A hum reverberated against her skin, low and comforting. A stable sound. 

 

“Do you regret being with me?”

 

That quiet came back to the space they occupied, more shocked than comforting. A spill of cold water, a drop of a glass, something simple with lasting impacts. The ripple in the pond. The flap of a butterflies wings. 

 

“I… What gave you this idea? Have I neglected you, made you doubt my love?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then-”

 

“I feel like I forced you. I married you in the pretense of a lie, and I never thought to tell you that truth.”

 

Nails curled into silken fabrics, unaware of the hovering palms from her wife hanging uncertain above them. 

 

“I know I look at you and I see you, not her. But sometimes I feel like you look at me and you see her.” 

 

“Maybe it’s in my head, my own insecurities yelling at me. But I think sometimes you stay with me from guilt or visions of that other life. I don’t want to doubt you, I love you, and maybe that’s exactly why that fear plagues me.”

 

The hands curled in the air, a tremble betraying the emotion they held, then they came down. 

 

One could call her movements, her handling, harsh. One could say she seemed enraged. Bela was not one such person. The weight, the emotion behind the movements, they made the moment more real for her. Solidified the words she heard next.

 

“That girl died, she would have never been the woman before me. We wouldn’t have lasted, maybe we could have tried but she and I were far too different. Neither of us fit the way I have found myself with you.”

 

The grip on her wrist bordered painful, maybe it would bruise. Smears of purple and red painting the delicate skin. She hoped it would. She wanted it to. 

 

“Did you know?”

 

“Know what?”

 

“That when you smile, your mouth twitches like it’s unsure of such movements. You bite down on your lips too, like you don’t know how to stop it from happening. Each time, I pull your lips free from your teeth. They are warm and plush beneath my hands, and often I struggle not to kiss you for fear of indecent acts in the halls. I never did that with that girl.”

 

“And when you hold me, you leave marks. Small bruises and red lines from your countless accessories. I press down on them everytime I must part from you, the pain is inconsequential if it means I may carry a memory of you.”

 

The hands pressed closer, finding a home in the divot of her wrist, the pulse point that echoed with life. 

 

“I talked with my mother earlier, more of a feeling really, a push to my own conclusions. In her I saw a tragedy, a fleeting romance, a way to finally experience life free from the gilded cage I grew in.”

 

“With you, I would give anything for your laugh. Even directed toward someone else, the presence of your joy lays unparalleled to my own. For in my eyes they are the same. I feel I was only complete when I laid eyes upon you that day in the temple. How fitting then, that we caught eyes under the gaze of my Mother.”

 

There might have been tears forming in her eyes, but closed as they were she had no indication except for the slight burning within them. Even then, if she could not trust herself to cry, she could lend such an act to Theia. Whos’ tears dripped down the side of her face, landing sporadically upon her collarbone. 

 

Words withered upon her tongue, the choked sound of sobs escaped her throat, and the hands tightened. A ring of fingerprints, pressed to her pulse. A claim. A call. A brand. An oath. 

 

“Theia.”

 

“...?”

 

“Would you…?”

 

“Would I what, my love?” 

 

Her voice took a teasing lilt now, free from the darker topics that plagued it. A relief of sorts, even knowing they would find their way back to such hard subjects.

 

Bela moved her hands, a subtle push to get Theia to release her. And then she caught her fingers as they drifted away. Lacing them together. 

 

“Vacante, won’t you hold my hand too?”

 

The other woman seemed startled, hands hesitant to leave her face, but them drifted away and traced hesitant patterns over the skin that lay between her eyes and her hands. The world was dimmer, the sun that lit the meadow now taking a sunset hue. 

 

Bela let her vision drift low, taking in the sight of their hands, laced together and held in a gentle confinement. Her heart caged and held between two others. A willing decision, no hostage, no captive, but an inclined participant. 

 

“Bela?”

 

“I was thinking, I know it may be something sudden, rash even. Or maybe not, maybe it was always going to come to this. I think I like that better, the idea that no matter who or where we are I will always ask this one question.”

 

“And?”

 

“I want to marry you.”

 

“...!”

 

“Both of you. Free from lies and pretense.”

 

“I want to embrace you as myself, and be embraced in return.”

 

The quiet comfort was thick, a hazy summer breeze, a far off memory of another life. Similar figures, similar words, similar names but different people. Maybe even in this place where she veered so far off track, maybe she still found a way back to her ending. The weight of the past mattered little, in the face of her journey reaching it’s destination. To be here, with them, asking this one question. To be here, with them, and asking for eternity. To be here, with them, and asking…

 

“You want, you want to marry me? Us?” 

 

“Does it shock you, Vacante, to want to have you?”

 

“I-”

 

“I am not made for something so delicate.”

 

“Who says? What gave you such an idea?”

 

“My nature is to be the end for those I meet, and weddings well aren't they for beginnings?”

 

“Would you be more at home if we had a funeral to unite us then?”

 

Though her face was shocked, her hands tightened, even knowing that neither of the ones in front of her could stay within death’s thrall for long. 

 

“Don’t say things like that!”

 

“Vacante, our nature shouldn't dictate us. All we need to do is balance each other, and that’s something we do naturally. Anything beyond that, it’s simply the effect of a life lived. After all, you cannot say I was the same as I was before I was sealed. I don't think I can ever be the same as I was then, so why should you be held to any other expectation?”

 

Slanted brows furrowed, and faintly there was the sound of a hiss and the smell of ozone crackling. A smile, more of a sly smirk, tugged at the corners of Bela’s mouth. She leaned forward, filling the other womans vision. 

 

“My dear other half, I care very little for much, but one thing I do care much about, is calling you mine. I want to place my ring on your hand, and leave a permanent reminder that you are no one’s but ours. You’ve never had any problem with claiming us, so why should there be anything different for a reciprocation of such a thing?”

 

“My-”

 

“O afosioménos frourós mou, will you ever rest that sword of yours? You don't need to protect yourself, not here. Not with us.”

 

“...”

 

“I know the heavy feeling that haunts you, that guilt that trails you like a twisted shadow. A vision of yourself that you are never fond to see.”

 

“...”

 

“You have made your heart a labyrinth, and played the role of your own tormentor, your own monster.”

 

“...”

 

“Let me be the thread that guides you out of those halls, let her be the princess who quells your cries, let us be the liberators of the caricature you’ve made of yourself.”

 

“Your heart is not vacant, so why do you act like it is?”

 

Tears fell onto their hands, the sunlight seemed to shimmer, that narrow passage between dusk and twilight. The meadow swayed with wind, cool and carrying the comforting scent of summer picked fruits, sweet and green. 

 

“What if I hurt you, what if I mess up?”

 

“Darling, I would love you even as a beetle under the weight of your shoe.”

 

The words invoked a laugh, a bit rough, rusty, something unused and forgotten. She vowed to make it more familiar, to brighten the copper tinged hinges and tighten the loose screws. 

 

“So?”

 

“..?”

 

“Marry me?”

 

“...”

 

“Don’t let Rowan near the menu.”

 

Peals of laughter echoed in the meadow, the sunlight warming them in rays as it drifted into darker skies. The moon shining it’s silver eye upon them from above, lazily illuminating the tangled and fallen figures of the three women. 

 

Laid out of the grass by the glass-like pond. Tangled together from tip to toe, chattering in ease, void of the tension they carried in the past weeks.

 

“Vacante?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Your eels are nipping my neck again.”

 

“My what.”

 

“Oh, I thought you had realized my -uh- ‘punishment’ for you was dissolved a few weeks ago. I, -um- might have been consumed by guilt a few days after and undone it. I really had thought you’d known, I would have mentioned it sooner but I thought you’d try to make me seal you again…”

 

Vacante didn't answer, not out of any malicious emotions or thoughts, but simply from the pure shock of noticing the swarm of eels entangled in the braids she wore, weaving in and out of her hair, looking around in wonder but mainly focused on biting marks into the skin of her two fiancees. 

 

“...How do I explain this to the others?”

 

Bela blinked and turned to glance at Theia who seemed just as lost as her, offering little to no help in the form of a shrug. 

 

“Gaslight them?”

 

Vacante leaned up and hovered above Bela, a hand resting on the grass she had laid upon and the other finding support of the shoulder of Theia. Her eels hovered separate of the long braids that graced her skin, brushing against her neck and chin. 

 

“Why would I gaslight them? What kind of suggestion is that!”

 

“Okay the way I see it either you gaslight them, or you tell them the details of our argument and the ensuing tension we had.”

 

There was a moment in which they stared at each other, both already knowing the choice Vacante would make. But neither wanting to admit to it first, that brief moment of competition that they had always been ingrained with since the collision of the stars. 

 

“Fine.”

 

The words seemed to be gritted out, but Bela caught the subtle turn of Vacante’s face as she laid down near her again. The turn of her head to hide a growing grin. She draped an arms across Bela’s stomach, the other curling above her head to twist strands of hair around her fingers like threads of yarn. 

 

Theia shifted, closing in on them both. An arm stretched to curl around vacante’s hip, and legs tangled together in winding moves. They could stay here, and in another life maybe they could have been found with their skeletons intertwined, a show of their love for generations. 

 

But that was another life, and in this one, they would simply remain. Never decaying, never fading, never dying. But with the way they laid here, basking in the presence of the other, one could call it their own death. A peaceful heaven, a safe haven from life. 

 

—

 

The moon glowed steady in the sky now.

 

A bright pearl in the night void of stars. Streaks of silver curling around the lovers. The air was heavy with the fragrance of flowers, the ground beneath them soft and ephemeral. The meadow cradled them like a cloud would hold the wind. A fleeting pressure, nothing enough to last.

 

It was hard to keep her eyes open, Theia had closed them a few beats past, but the rhythm of her pulse did not falter, and it was easy to tell she was not asleep. Not just yet.

 

Vacante pushed past each lethargic wave, twisting her head back in forth, disturbing the fitful slumber of her eels. 

 

Bela’s eyes drifted, to the feel of something crawling across her shoulder. A brush of marching legs across her collar, she craned her neck a bit, catching sight of pale spring colors. The bug stopped over the curve of her chest. Placed above her heart. 

 

The hand she had left to brush across Theia’s palm rose slightly, a slow and tentative movement. And the insect stayed. 

 

Her fingers brushed the sparse fur of the creature, the hard shell more prominent than anything else, and the antennas twitched in the direction of her open palm. Slowly the centipede rose upon it’s hind legs, pushing up to touch her palm. 

 

Her eyes were heavy, slipping shut without struggle. 

 

The centipede may have stayed, or maybe it left. 

 

But there was something in her that gave the notion that maybe, the centipede had always been there. And that maybe it would never leave either.

 

—

 

Her dreams were laced with memories of glowing seeds hanging from blue speckled branches and cradled in the embrace of sparkling leaves. 

 

The sound of marching legs followed her, as she moved through her Garden. 

 

Her blossoms thrived.

 

The ones she treasured most. 

 

Cradled close to her, pressed against a wooden form. 

 

Her frumoasa regină, pink hues shifting into splashes of white, her Dianthus. 

 

Her cealaltă jumătate, the haunting calls she left echoing in her wake, her Void.

 

Her greier, the wide set of a pearlescent flower gleaming in the shadows, her Anthurium.

 

Her ciupercă mică, bright red as warning and a dark center like a target, her Poppy.

 

Her umbră, the delicate pale color warmed with pink blushes, her Apple Blossom.

 

Her copil vedetǎ, purple buds slanted like berries in a forest, her grape Hyacinth. 

 

Her angelo luludǎ, a vivid red coloring timid and stunted blooms, her wilting Rose.

 

Her World.

 

Her Garden.

 

The Garden. 

Chapter 66: sixty six

Chapter by Honeydrrop

—

Rowan blinked against the sudden brightness as the door creaked shut behind him. He had hoped

desperately

that it would lead him back to his friends… maybe even to Jasper. If only Jasper would stop weaponizing that awful silent treatment.

The thought tugged at something deep in his chest, but Rowan pushed it down. No time for aching hearts. A flash of light swallowed his vision—and then...

“Where the hell…?”

He stood alone in a meadow that stretched out in soft, rolling waves beside a dense forest. Wildflowers sprawled all over. Tiger lilies, buttercups, and oddly out-of-place grape hyacinths blooming in tangled disarray. The breeze whispered against his skin, neither warm nor cold—just… texture. The air itself made him shiver. Something about this place felt too still, too silent.

He wandered toward a series of small ponds, the water shimmering in pale greens and blues. Kneeling, he dipped a finger in.the surface was colder than he expected. Then, from the corner of his eye, movement: a flicker of blue.

A glowing butterfly, bright and delicate, fluttered past him. Its wings seemed to scatter light as it hovered and then, boldly, landed on his finger.

Rowan tilted his head, a wry smirk tugging at his lips. “Huh. What are you? You don’t look like anything I’ve eaten,” he joked, his voice soft.

Oddly, the butterfly’s wings twitched. Almost offended, before it took off again, gliding toward the forest’s edge.

He hesitated. It felt like it was waiting for him.

“Are you… taking me to someone?” he asked aloud.

Of course, it didn’t answer. It simply turned deeper into the trees, glowing faintly like a lantern in the dark.

Rowan sighed and rolled his eyes. He had nowhere else to be… not that he even knew where he was.

He stepped into the woods, each footfall softened by moss. The silence was eerie.

no birds, no rustling critters, just the gentle flutter of that strange butterfly ahead of him. Its glow cast a ghostly light on the bark and leaves as it led him forward.

It was beautiful. Peaceful. It made him think of Jasper.

Damn it.

His chest tightened again. He didn’t want to think about him…but Jasper kept bleeding into every quiet moment.

What happened to him? Why is he avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?

Rowan shook his head roughly. No. Just ask him. Stand your ground.

A flicker of anger crossed his face, masking the ache as he walked on, more determined now. The forest canopy thinned;soft spots of sunlight began to break through the leaves like stardust.

Maybe he was almost out.

Maybe…

The butterfly vanished just as he parted a curtain of low-hanging branches.

Rowan stepped into the clearing and froze.

Bathed in sunlight at the center of another still pond, Jasper sat alone on a log, fingers nervously picking at each other, his face distant and full of thought.

Rowan’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected this,not truly. The last time he’d seen Jasper, it was during the trial, when that blade sank into him, cold and final. The phantom memory made Rowan instinctively clutch his abdomen, unsure whether to run, hide, scream…

No, he reminded himself. You’re supposed to be confident. Just ask him. Say what you need to say.

But his body didn’t listen. His throat tightened. A lump formed, heavy and unwelcome.

Why does it hurt so much to see him?

Then

snap.

A branch cracked under his grip.

Jasper’s head shot up, eyes wide, spinning toward the sound.

Aw, shit.

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Rowan stood there, frozen, caught in Jasper’s gaze. Relief, fury, heartbreak, longing, they all collided at once in his chest.

But he couldn’t look away from those deep, familiar black eyes.

He couldn’t tell what expression Jasper wore. His eyes flickered. Looking away, then back again, as if trying to settle on the right emotion. For a moment, Rowan swore he saw guilt.

They might’ve stood there for a lifetime if Jasper hadn’t finally cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“…Hi, Rowan,” Jasper said softly.

Rowan might’ve melted at the sound—might’ve let it all go—if not for the fire in his chest, the hurt bubbling too close to the surface.

“Hi? That’s what you have to say? After weeks? Just… hi?” Rowan’s brow arched sharply.

Jasper flinched, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I—I’m… sorry,” he managed, eyes locked on Rowan.

Rowan let out a bitter laugh, dry and sharp.

“Sorry? Sorry?! For what, Jasper? You could be sorry for a lot of things.”

The words were heavy, acidic on his tongue. The silence that followed only stoked the frustration building inside him.

Jasper dropped his gaze, quiet again. It made Rowan want to scream.

“Answer me! You got the chance, use it before I leave!” Rowan’s voice cracked, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Jasper stepped closer, but Rowan didn’t move.

Instead, Jasper gently reached for his hands… then sank to his knees.

“I’m sorry… for everything,” he whispered.

Rowan jerked his hands back.

“Stop apologizing!” he yelled. “You said you wanted to marry me, Jasper but then after that whole battle, you just went quiet?!”

Tears streamed down Rowan’s cheeks as he gasped for breath, voice trembling.

“Why?! Why didn’t you open up? Why did you make me think you didn’t love me anymore?!”

Jasper’s own tears welled up. He grabbed Rowan’s sleeve like a lifeline, burying his face against it.

“I…”

“TELL ME!” Rowan sobbed.

“I didn’t want you to hate me!” Jasper shouted, voice breaking.

Rowan froze.

“W-What…?”

“When I saw you almost die, something inside me snapped,” Jasper choked out. “I couldn’t control myself…I turned into that.”

The sun was beginning to dip below the trees, casting the sky in rich strokes of orange and pink.

“I felt like a monster, Rowan! When I saw that look in your eyes,I felt awful!”

Rowan stared at him, stunned and speechless.

“I wanted to tell you. I tried. But I couldn’t…” Jasper’s voice broke again, his glowing eyes shimmering with purples and blues—a sad, beautiful storm of emotion.

He crumpled into more sobs, hiding in his sleeve as Rowan’s heart twisted in his chest, aching with every sound.

Rowan slowly knelt down, bringing his face level with Jasper’s.

He reached up, gently wiping Jasper’s tears with both thumbs.

Jasper looked at him…open, raw.

“My love… I never thought that,” Rowan whispered, voice soft but steady.

Jasper leaned into him, pressing his forehead to Rowan’s shoulder.

“I hated myself,” he murmured. “You never think I do, but I did… in that moment, I did. I couldn’t even look at myself I…I-I couldn’t face you.”

Rowan’s breath hitched. He was used to hiding his feelings, but not like this. Not when the weight of them pressed so hard against his chest. With every word Jasper spoke, his grudge began to soften.

“At my trial… I had to look at myself,” Jasper began, voice quiet. “All the versions I hated. Including my father. They all told me I had to accept what I saw, even if I couldn’t stand it.” He sighed. “Then I saw you. You were always there—every time things went wrong. When I died and came back… when I made mistakes… even now, you’re still here. And I—I owe you an apology, Rowan.”

Rowan didn’t know what to say. His mind usually got stuck on needing to be right, needing to prove a point. But now… he knew Jasper had been through hell. Even if he had hated being ignored.

Gently, Rowan picked up Jasper’s hands and kneeled with him, letting his eyes flick down to their rings.

“Jasper… I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled. I know, shocking coming from me,” he huffed. “I didn’t like that you shut me out. You should’ve come to me. Talked to me. But… I get it. That kind of thing’s hard.”

Jasper’s eyes welled with tears again. “I know. I messed up. But I’ll do better. I’ll talk to you. From now on. We’re engaged, after all.” He let out a soft, watery laugh.

Rowan snorted, nudging his nose against Jasper’s. “Weird hearing it out loud, dork.”

Jasper suddenly pulled him into a hug—tight, desperate, warm.

“I love you, Rowan,” he whispered. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you again.”

Rowan felt heat rise to his cheeks, chuckling softly as he sank into Jasper’s familiar embrace. He missed this. Missed him.

“I love you too, Jasper. You’re lucky I didn’t throw my ring into the pond.”

“Huh?!” Jasper pulled away, alarmed.

“Kidding, kidding!” Rowan grinned, raising his hands innocently.

Jasper sighed as he stood, still shaken. “Let’s find a way out of here, husband,” he said with a small smirk, bending down to kiss Rowan’s hand.

Rowan nearly teared up again, but held it in, his heart too full to speak.

“Of course, my otherworldly husband.”

Fingers laced together, the two of them began walking forward, side by side.

—

The moon started to rise while they talked, casting a soft glow over the quiet world. Jasper didn’t mind. The night was peaceful, broken only by the soft chirping of crickets.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what did your trial look like?” Jasper asked, glancing at him.

Rowan looked away with an awkward smile. “Weeeeeell. Weird but also kind of insane, ya know? You stabbed me. A lot. Then I had to face me stabbing me… and also the fear of losing everyone, death, you name it—just soooo crazy.”

Jasper slowly turned his head toward him. His expression was nothing short of horrified.

“You’re making it sound like it was traumatizing—”

“CAUSE IT WAS?!” Jasper yelled. “ARE YOU OKAY?!”

He immediately began patting Rowan down, checking for invisible wounds. “Did they hurt you?! Are there scars?! What the hell?!”

“J-Jasper!!” Rowan cackled, spinning to avoid his hands. “I’m fine! Hah—stop! That tickles!”

Jasper huffed dramatically, still inspecting him. “Oh Maia, help me… You better tell me if you ever need to talk, okay? That’s a lot.”

He knelt down, concern written all over his face.

Rowan exhaled deeply, then reached up to ruffle Jasper’s hair. “Yes, yes, I’m fine now. Don’t worry, Mr. Therapist.”

Jasper gave him a flat look.

“You’re lucky Stacy isn’t here. You know what she would say.”

“Prolly diagnose me with all the mental problems,” Rowan shrugged, grinning.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t yet,” Jasper coughed.

Rowan punched him, laughing.

—

The moon now waned high, and Rowan could feel his eyelids start to fall at times. He noticed the trees didn’t look quite right, and the ground felt… lighter than usual. He patted himself. He wasn’t high.

“Jasper… I feel so… sleepy,” Rowan yawned. “It feels like a dream. Can we stop for a second?”

Jasper yawned too, glancing at him. “Okay… we’ve been walking for a bit anyway.”

Jasper sat, leaning against a tree, patting his lap for Rowan.

Rowan climbed into his lap, facing toward him, and cuddled into his chest.

“Mm… I missed this,” Rowan mumbled.

“I won’t deprive you of me-time ever again.”

“You better, ‘cause you owe me for a lifetime.”

“Of course I’ll pay my debt.”

Comfortable silence spread as Rowan’s eyes began to close.

“I think… I have another alter ego, Jasper.”

“…What are you going on about?” Jasper played with the curls in Rowan’s hair.

“Well… I hear this voice in my head.”

“That’s called an inner voice.”

“Not that, nerd!” Rowan muffled, annoyed. “It’s different! He talks backwards and goes on about wanting to be free…” Rowan sighed.

Jasper hummed, closing his eyes. “We’ll make sure to get you an exorcist when we get home. Maybe some spirits decided to come into your body.”

“What? Man, I ain’t a cheater. Tell those spirits this body is only for my man.” Jasper could hear him giggle.

He sighed, chuckling softly. “Yeah yeah… we’ll deal with it later. Just get some rest.”

A soft “mhm” came from Rowan, and both of them fell into a deep sleep.

Before Rowan’s eyes could succumb to a deep sleep, he could see something…

 

No… someone out the corner of his eye

 

He could see a stark black shadow across from him

 

It…mumbled something

 

“ereh tsomla si emit ehT”

-

Chapter 67: sixty seven

Chapter by Honeydrrop

Johnny woke in a haze, the feeling of blood loss fading too rapidly for him to adjust properly. He was no longer in snow, there was no longer a wailing baby nearby. He wasn’t freezing, melting, nothing.

 

Instead, a vast array of blooms laid before him.

 

Lifting his head, he found that it wasn’t just the blooms, but many, many other fauna in a seemingly endless garden of sorts. He didn’t remember walking here, much less even falling asleep amidst the plants. He barely even recognized some of these plants, were they from other worlds?

 

Though, he did recognize the woman tending to the roses. They were barely budding, but Bela was caring for them as though they were full blooms. He almost didn’t want to disturb her.

 

But why was she here? 

 

He stood despite himself, carefully weaving through the plants. Quiet. Afraid to be noticed.

 

Noticed anyway.

 

Bela smiled warmly, looking far too relieved for how Johnny felt. He felt a familiarity in the situation. Just the two of them, a smiling Bela and a wide-eyed, silent Johnny. Though this time, it seemed it was he who magically appeared instead of her. He who seemed more manic than her.

 

She hadn't seemed so calm before. He wondered what happened. Maybe something in her Trial?

 

But his Trial was agony. Surely she’d gone through something similar.

 

Maybe some other thing? Or maybe her Trial was just more favorable?

 

“Back to staring, huh? Am I reading minds again?”

 

Johnny startled, Bela giggled lightly. Right, he couldn’t just analyze and stare at people. He had to initiate something. Anything. 

 

“Do you know where we are?”

 

Bela paused, humming. “I suppose I do.”

 

“Do you know why we’re here?”

 

“I suppose I do.”

 

Johnny furrowed his brow, Bela laughed again. 

 

“You know, too, don’t you?”

 

“What? That’s why I asked you.”

 

Bela shook her head. “You have things to talk about, surely.”

 

“Well, yes, but…”

 

“But what?”

 

Johnny’s eyebrows knit further. He didn’t want to go through explaining his Trial, the worries, all the sorting…

 

He could barely meet her eyes. Like a shamed child. 

 

“I imagine you had a rough one, too? You certainly look like it.”

 

“...Huh?”

 

“Your Trial. How was it?”

 

Johnny winced. Bela smiled sympathetically, offering her hand.

 

“Mine too. But if you’re here, meeting me, then surely we need to talk, yes?”

 

He nodded reluctantly, taking her hand as she guided him around. He felt stupid knowing she was trying to coax him into speaking. Like. A. Child.

 

“You worry me,” he blurted.

 

“I’ve…come to realize that.”

 

“No.”

 

“No?” Bela chuckled. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

 

“I worry you’ll leave me.” The words still hung heavy in his mind, but he spoke fast, as if shoving his thoughts out. “But I’ve thought about it, I mean, I was forced into thinking about it. You leaving, I mean, technically you’d always be there ‘cause you’re basically Existence and all, but, it’s not as tangible, is it?”

 

“You want tangibility?”

 

“How else will I know you’re still there?” His voice was failing him. Surely he had already accepted this. Why was it so raw?

 

Maybe he hadn’t accepted it yet. Maybe not fully.

 

She could leave right now. Get tangled in another dance. Leave him in the cold. She could just go somehow. 

 

And where would he be? What would he do?

 

Hands cupped his face, a wetness accompanying the warmth. He stiffened, the idea of blood still fresh in his mind from the Trial, the concept of injury still so foreign.

 

The brightness of the garden dimmed as Bela closed the gap between them, gently thumbing over Johnny’s tears with their heads pressed together. Her breath soft on his skin. Tangible. 

 

He reached for her, still so absurdly afraid that he was hallucinating this, that he was alone once more. The fabric of her dress was smooth, spare the evenly spaced bumps where it ruched at her waist. He traced that area mindlessly, swaying to her lead. 

 

She was here. Really here, in front of him, with him. It eased his tears, though she kept thumbing over his face.

 

“I love you,” he breathed. “I think I’m mad at you.”

 

“What for?”

 

“A hypocritical reason, really.” Johnny sighed with a halfhearted chuckle, leaning into her touch. “Mad at you for leaving, even though you came back. Mad at you wanting to go even though I…”

 

“Hypocritical, indeed,” Bela giggled. 

 

“Is it selfish? To want you to stay?”

 

“Not any more so than either of us wanting to leave.” A fair answer. “But, I’d like you to stay, too. There’s a spot in the garden for you, you know.”

 

Johnny hummed, not quite sure what the garden had to do with any of this. The concept comforted him, nonetheless.

 

“I love you, Johnny.”

 

He finally smiled, echoing the phrase once again. The swaying came to stillness. Hitched breathing shallowed by calm. 

 

“Shall I show you out?”

 

“There’s a way out?”

 

“For you, not yet. Just out of the Garden.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

Bela pulled back, eyeing Johnny knowingly. “I wasn’t your main focus. I think we both know that very well.”

 

His heart dropped. 

 

“Can I just stay here?”

 

She pursed her lips, thinking animatedly. “I’m alright with it. But you’re not going to enjoy the immediate outcome.”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

Bela paused. Her eyes darted just beyond Johnny, focusing on something that was clearly taller than the flowers. 

 

Johnny dared to look.

 

He wished, for a moment, that he hadn’t.

 

Ian stood at the front of the garden, where Johnny had first awoken. He clearly was nowhere near as delirious as Johnny was, seeing how his searching gaze quickly settled heavily on the albino.

 

As pained as he was, Johnny couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ian’s. They hadn’t truly shared a moment together since before this whole Trial ordeal, since the fight. It was masochistic of him, savoring those golden eyes that hurt so much to look at.

 

His body, no, his soul ached for the other man. He wished Ian would just explain already. He wished he wasn’t so upset with him, he wished and wished and—

 

“Johnny?”

 

Badum.

 

Lovely, now he couldn’t meet his eyes. He searched for any kind of reassurance, but Bela was apparently fleeing the scene. 

 

He’d have to scold her later. Even if she already had locked eyes with his pleading gaze.

 

“Johnny.” Badum, badum.

 

He was nearly certain Ian could hear his soul thrumming within him. Why was it doing this, betraying him this way?

 

Maybe his soul was tied to Ian somehow. Yes, he’d heard of those. Maybe that was it. But how?

 

“Please, Johnny.”

 

He didn’t need to say more. Johnny was already looking at him.

 

Ian didn’t look quite as confident as his voice let on. As large as he was, his fear managed to make him appear small. Meek.

 

Johnny searched through him, taking note of every jolt of muscle, every twitch of his ears, every disruption of his breath. His eyes trailed over his figure, how he had to slump to meet Johnny, how his shoulders came forward with anxiety, how low his ears drooped. How his eyes, those beautiful eyes, were just as searching. How his lips parted shakily before speaking.

 

“Do you hate me, Johnny?”

Badum.

 

He felt something twist within him, a terrible contortion of sorrow and an anger misplaced. It prodded at him, at his soul. He bit his lip, looking down as fresh tears threatened to spill.

 

Again, hands were quick to rid his face of each mournful drop, but they were much bigger than Bela’s. Much more forgiving, much more pleading. 

 

“No,” he whispered. “But do you?”

 

Johnny’s voice quivered, his frame trembled. Ian wasn’t sure what to make of it.

 

“No,”  Ian murmured, “I could never hate you.”

 

“It would be an easier explanation for all this.”

 

The ease of the phrase sent a pang through Ian’s chest. His movements faltered enough for Johnny to notice, enough for Johnny to reach for Ian’s hand to keep it on his face.

 

“Please tell me,” he sighed, “why you avoided me.”

 

Ian felt his ears droop further. He figured it wouldn’t have been easy to get through this, but there was seemingly no way out of it now that he had him here.

 

“I was scared.”

 

“Of what? Me?”

 

“Myself.”

 

He fell silent, the admission clinging to him suffocatingly. Johnny didn’t allow his mind to ruminate in the quiet for very long.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“I…You don’t know what happened in that fight, do you?”

 

Johnny shook his head slowly, worried. “Not after Seraph.”

 

Right. He was awake until Seraph fed from him.

“I killed him, Johnny,” Ian rasped. “I killed him to get to you. I killed so many angels that day, I killed and killed and killed and I couldn’t seem to get a hold on myself—”

 

Johnny clasped his hand over Ian’s mouth, expression vacant. It worried Ian more that he didn’t seem terrified.

 

“I saw how you were thrown across the room,” Johnny said, all tone lost from his voice. “The sound of it…I thought you’d died. Spine broken or something.”

 

“I don’t understand your po—”

 

“My point is,” Johnny looked up at him, “that we were fighting for survival. Zerithos practically had a bounty on you and I. It was either us or them, Ian.”

 

Ian furrowed his brow, looking anywhere but Johnny’s eyes. 

 

“I thought you’d be afraid of me,” he muttered. “Mauling someone like that…What I’d become…?”

 

“I suppose it was fortunate that I wasn’t conscious when that happened,” Johnny smiled halfheartedly, smoothing the folds of Ian’s sleeves. “It wouldn’t have changed anything, though.”

 

“If you saw what happened, maybe.”

 

“I’ve seen many things from you, Ian. None of which deterred me from you.”

 

Ian was quickly reminded of his Trial. The tiny Johnny wiping at tears falling from a giant’s eyes. 

 

And here he was, experiencing the same situation.

 

“Please stop with your assumptions,” Johnny said softly. “I’m not some feeble little thing in distress. I know you.”

 

“I’m afraid you won’t one day.”

 

“Then I’ll learn.” Johnny sighed. “We’ve been through this, haven’t we? I’ve never been afraid of you. Not for being a demon, not for being a Sin, not for being a soul eater, nothing.”

 

He reached for Ian’s ears. Muscle memory, really, how Ian bowed at Johnny’s whim.

 

“And I never will.”

 

Ian’s ears fluttered with relief as he gave way to Johnny’s advances, soft caresses and sweet kisses peppering his face in an attempt to replace lost time. He loved Johnny, he loved, loved, loved him. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.

 

“Ian.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Take me to the tree, please.”

 

His ears perked at the peculiar command, his body obliging before his mind. He wasn’t even sure what tree Johnny meant; there were so many here in the Garden.

 

But he didn’t ask, not that he needed to. Johnny’s body language was different, more serene. 

 

“I have something I need to do there.”

 

Had Ian spoken aloud? Surely not.

 

They wove their way through the Garden. With every blink, it seemed to fade into something else.

 

Something strangely familiar.

 

Bioluminescent blooms littered the grass, their minty light growing stronger as they walked through the cave entrance. Before them stood what looked to be an ancient tree, red leaves like fire glinting on winding branches. 

 

“Thank you, Ian.”

 

He hummed in response, watching Johnny reach the trunk of the tree. He turned back to Ian, looking almost regal.

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how was your Trial?”

 

“Weird.” Ian thought for a moment, sorting through the memory of it. “I think I have a sister out there.”

 

“A sister?”

 

“She looked just like me. But, uh, they were talking about selling me.”

 

Johnny cocked his head, smiling dryly. “You were sold, and I was planted in the forest in the middle of winter. Lovely.”

 

“You what?”

 

“I saw my parents. They didn’t want to put me there. Said they’d come back for me.” Johnny blinked. “I wonder what changed.”

 

“He didn’t even stay long enough to know if I survived or not,” Ian sighed. “I think his name was Alex or something. Malex?”

 

“Malik.”

 

“Yeah, him.” His ears fluttered. “Do you know him?”

 

“Notorious for black market schemes.”

 

Ian nearly questioned how Johnny knew about black market relations, getting distracted by Johnny’s balance faltering.

 

“The tree is growing impatient.” He giggled. “You’ll protect me, yes?”

 

“Always.”

 

What then should have been a blur was all too clear for the pair.

 

Johnny’s hand outstretched, Ian bowing before him. Commands unspoken, as though they were wired in their DNA. It wasn’t all that new to them; growing up with nothing but body language to speak with gave the situation normalcy.

 

He felt like fluid, one of the first times he was actually aware of his transformation without panic. Inky smoke dripped from his being as it reformed him into a full fledged soul eater, Johnny watching with calm satisfaction.

 

All six eyes fixated on the Phoenix before him, who stood with outstretched arms. A deity in his own right.

 

A nudge, a request for permission, a burning sensation as the Phoenix was lifted onto the Soul Eater’s back.

 

The Phoenix burned, as did the trunk of the Tree of Life. Wood groaned and creaked around them. Branches warped, vines coiled, embracing the Phoenix.

 

The Soul Eater watched. Coiled protectively before the trunk of the Tree.

 

Badum.

 

Badum.

 

Badum.

 

The Soul Eater’s hearing was designed for this. Designed to keep track of the Phoenix’s vitals during Transfiguration. Designed to protect The Soul.

 

The Soul Eater was designed for this.

 

Size unparalleled to ward off any predator coveting The Soul.

 

Fatal venom to prevent successful Stealing.

 

Perfect compatibility with the Phoenix.

 

A mutual relationship. A trade of sorts.

 

Patience was key. Listening as cartilage reformed into bones, as muscles wound fibres onto fresh foundations, as newfound Life Essence pulsed through the Chrysalis like blood in utero.

 

Listening as the final adjustments were made.

 

Listening as the branches gave way.

 

Watching the Chrysalis bloom, unraveling the gift that was the Phoenix King.

 

His Phoenix.

 

Tasting him once again. Feeding, such an intimate act.

 

It did something to Ian, feeding on Johnny this way.

 

It did everything he needed.

 

The growing pains would soon follow suit. The threads binding them together would no longer be a hindrance. 

 

Revitalized. Rejuvenated. Reborn. Looking at the world with fresh eyes.

 

The world looking at them with old eyes.

 

—