Chapter Text
"Bright One.... I am curious about something. The country, the knowledge we both share.... Why you're the only one facing me, without even flinching.... This cloying, overpowering scent of sugar..."
"Yes. I can tell. You've trapped this country in time even more surely than I have. Even if I manage to defeat you.... my victory will always be temporary, will it not?"
"Perhaps my wish has come true already, and I don't even know it."
"Oooooh.....Oooooh..... Why didn't I think of it.......? With this power, there's no one to stop you, is there....."
You look down at the one who has dealt such harm to you. Whose dagger has carved trenches in your armour, and left ragged marks on your flesh. Who has dodged and withstood attacks that should have felled any mortal. That slight figure that you could fit in the palm of your hand, and yet who dodged even your freezing blessing as if they knew exactly when you would use it. So different, the form their power took. The strength it granted them. And yet, in the end, so similar.
"But I do not mind. As long as this country exists forever. As long as WE exist forever! There is proof! Proof that our country was real!"
Even now, they do not respond.
"Doesn't a part of you agree with me? Doesn't a part of you want to restart this battle again, and again, and again? Because..... if you defeat me.... what else is there?"
They strike, and the ferocity of it sends you reeling. An attack without elegance, without complexity, without personality. As if the sheer desire to kill had been condensed into a Craft. They do not wait for their Craft to cool down before striking again. They do not pause, or rest, or hesitate. You can see the sweat dripping from their face, the sunken emptiness of their eyes, the way their hands tremble with every blow.
They are exhausted. They are dying. They are killing themselves, just to kill you.
"My wish.... you can guess what it was, can't you? Or maybe.... you have even heard it from my own mouth...... But what about you, bright one?"
"Why are you here? What trapped you in this eternal place? What does the star beating in your chest hunger for? What was your wish?"
Emotion fills you. Your own wish burns like fire. It consumes you, guides you. Do they feel the same? Do they feel the pull of the Universe?
"WHAT DID YOU WISH FOR?!"
.......
"Ah..... I Suppose it does not matter....... I will win this battle soon, after all, for a time."
"And..... Maybe.... When everything is perfectly frozen..... I will finally remember it all....."
You reach out with your blessing. Not the focused snare with which you might freeze them in time, so easily predicted, but a gentle wave, covering the entire arena. They heal themselves. Focus their deadly Craft. It does not matter. Already their movements are slower, clumsier.
Again you reach out, and again they are slowed. They strike, and this time it is you that avoids them. Again you slow them. They move as if wading through water. Again, you slow them. They barely move at all. Like the hour hand of a clock, so slow are they.
You slow them again, and finally, they still.
.......
You are alone again. But not for long. Mere minutes have passed when a dark liquid begins pouring from their eyes, bubbling from beneath the eyepatch. Thicker than water, or even blood. Like glistening oil, like liquid shadow, like oozing slime. It is not an attack, you realize. Not some other, hidden power. You have seen this before.
The ooze coalesces, pulling itself slowly into a shape. A vaguely humanoid form, at first, like a store mannequin covered in ink. Then details form. Hands split into fingers. Its head widens, deforms, and then separates into hat and head. Its body widens, taking on the appearance of a cloak, unfurling to hide most of its body. A single pale eye opens, like an apple bobbing to the surface of a bucket. Faint echoes surround it, as if its edges were blurred, as if a dozen half-invisible copies stood beside it.
What demons haunted your countryman, that a sadness would be birthed from them so soon after their defeat? What form did their despair take, that it resembles their own body so closely? The wish they bore, the star burning in their chest... was it despair that bore their pleas to the Universe? No wonder it answered.
"SIFFRIN!"
Your thoughts are interrupted by a cry. Figures bursting through the door at the end of the chamber. So the bright one had companions after all? The Housemaiden is there of course, leading them. A strongly built Warrior follows behind her, fists encased in ridiculous paper gloves. A tall woman, her eyes fixed square on you, her hands on a large tome. A Scholar, perhaps? And last of all a Child, tiny and frail, wielding a pan of some kind as if it were a weapon.
Are these the Saviors who would kill you?
Their approach slows when they see the newborn Sadness, standing besides the bright one's frozen form. There is concern in their expressions. Anger, likely directly at you. As if this were not the kindest fate you could deliver them. The Child in particular seems upset at the sight, practically clinging to the Warrior with one arm even as they heft the pan with the other.
"Isabeau, help me fight the Sadness." The tall woman, the Scholar, takes control of the situation with barely a moment's hesitation. "Bonnie stay back, and be ready with tonics. Mirabelle, you need to get past and unfreeze-"
"How can you say such horrible things, Siffrin!!!" A new voice cuts through the action. The Saviors hesitate. The Housemaiden practically freezes in place. The Sadness spoke. It is not the voice you would have expected the bright one to possess. "You're awful. You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything. And you never were." The Sadness' tone is venomous, and yet each word drips with malicious glee. The Housemaiden flinches as if she had been slapped.
"What I hate... is when those secrets are about me, and when people I consider friends keep them from me." It takes you a moment to realize the Sadness spoke again. It's the Scholar's voice now. The tone cruel, calculating. As if explaining something obvious to an idiot. "What I hate..... is you, Siffrin."
"I never-"
"SIFF!" The scholar's rebuttal is interrupted by a third voice coming from the Sadness. "Oh, Siff. I'm glad you're here. I can finally tell you what I've been meaning to say all this time." The Warrior stiffens, any attempt at fighting dropped as he simply stares at the Sadness. What is it referring to, to cause such a response? "Okay..... here it comes. Sif. Siffrin. Sifarooni. I..... I am disgusted by you." The Child is confused. The Scholar is saying something, trying to organize her team. But nobody is listening to her. They're just listening to the Sadness. "Do you know why I never touch you, Siffrin? Why we never let you be part of our group hugs? Why we all do our best to avoid you? It's because you're disgusting, Siff. The thought of making skin contact with you makes me want to puke."
Without launching a single attack, the Sadness has left the Saviors breathless. Stunned.
"Oooooooooh....... bright one.... I thought you had come to face me alone because you had no companions......" Tears flow freely from your eyes. You sob, gently. "It seems I was right."
"We did not ask for your opinion." The scholar hisses a retort between her teeth. She is shaken. "It's just saying what it knows will distract us. It's just a Sadness. We need to take it out, then Mirabelle can unfreeze Siffrin. We'll resolve all THIS later." Her composure is laudable. But when she launches a rock attack with a gesture, the Sadness screeches in pain.
"Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting, disgusting...." This is another voice. It does not sound like any of the saviors who have spoken. "They hate me, they hate me, they hate me, they hate me...." Is this the Bright One's own voice, then? The pain in its voice is real enough the even the Scholar blanches. The Child shouts something about hurting friends at the Scholar. The Scholar is attempting to convince her allies to act. The Warrior stands as if frozen, staring at the Sadness, then at the frozen form of the Bright One.
The Housemaiden, gritting her teeth, attempts to dash past the Sadness. Its single eye follows her, haunting, accusing. Her hands reach out for the Bright One, the only one among this paltry group who might threaten your victory.
"Ooooh.... I cannot allow that." You had not sat idle, observing this sad affair. You like to think of yourself as merciful. But you are not foolish enough to waste a distraction. And seeing the despair before you, perhaps a quick end is the greatest mercy you can give.
You snap your fingers, and unleash a vision of the future.
.......
The Saviors lie beaten and broken before you.
"Urgh..... Siff....."
"We can't let it end this way..... come on, you stupid body, move!"
"Bonnie.... just run...!"
"FRIN, YOU STUPID IDIOT!!!" The Sadness still stands, unaffected. Speaking now in the Child's voice, looking at it. No expression on its empty voice, but hatred in its tone. "I HATE YOU, FRIN!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!"
The Child cannot move. Cannot speak. They are trembling with emotion, tears running down their face. "I didn't.... I didn't mean to..." How sad it is, that these Saviors thought to drag a child into a fight to the death.
You offer the only mercy you can. The same mercy you would give all of Vaugarde. The child freezes in place, frozen in an instant. Perhaps, in their dreams, they will find peace.
"Bonnie!" The Housemaiden sounds heartbroken. "Bonnie, no! How could you?" What did they think would happen if the Child ran? Nearly all of Vaugarde is frozen. They would have only risked getting hurt, and now they are safe.
"oh, oooooooooh...... do not worry. The young one is just..... having a wonderful rest. As for you....." You consider freezing them. Only the Housemaiden is immune. The rest could be frozen, protected. But you can feel anger, boiling in your gut. These pathetic, wishless mortals had threatened your plan. Had threatened your Wish. They had stood against the will of the Universe. Perhaps they do not deserve to be preserved.
Calmly, you raise your fists.
And.
Strike.
.....
.....
.....
.....
You feel sunlight on your skin.
Is this your dream, then? You had hoped, perhaps, that you would finally remember, in your dreams. But this, at least, is..... calm. Peaceful.
You can accept that. Peace.
Vaugarde is safe. Everyone is safe.
You can rest now.
.....
"-frin!"
..... there is a voice. How can there be a voice? Is this, too, part of your dream? But you didn't think-
"Siffrin~!"
The bright one's name? Why would you dream of that? And that voice....
A shadow falls over you. The sunlight no longer touches your skin. Suddenly, you feel strangely cold. This.... does not make sense.
".... Siffrin?"
You open your eyes. You try to. You can't see from your left. It feels like there's something in the way, covering your eye.
You might have tried to remove it, if what you saw didn't short circuit your brain. The figure looming over you is the Housemaiden. The Savior of Vaugarde. The woman you had killed, just moments before.
"Good morning! Well, more like, good afternoon, I guess...." She is smiling cheerfully. Talking to you as if you were a friend. Her tone, her expression, just the angle you're viewing her from.... everything is different. Wrong. "Were you taking a nap? That's just like you..... Only you could sleep peacefully on a day like this, hehe! I guess that's smart.... we better get some rest while we can! We have to be ready for tomorrow..... So we can finally face against the king!"
You do not know how to respond. How to act. Is this still..... a dream? Are you dreaming that you were the Housemaiden's friend? And.... fighting yourself? But you have never dreamed like this. You can feel the slight dew gathered on the grass. Taste the scent of spring in the air, fresh like you have not experienced in all your months trapped in the House of Change. You see the Housemaiden's face and notice details you never could have, towering above her in your titanic form. The slight dimples in her cheeks, the turn of her eyes, the simple little earrings she wears.
"....You're still half asleep, aren't you?" She seems ever so slightly exasperated, but there is a fondness to the expression. You could never have conceived of the idea that the Housemaiden of all people would look at you with such kind eyes. "Hmm.... Okay, then.... you can sleep for a bit longer, but not too long! Come to the village when you're ready, okay?"
The Housemaiden leaves.
You watch her go.
Slowly, uncertainly, you sit up. It feels strange. You spent so long kneeling in place, unable to stand or stretch. But that's not the only reason this movement feels.... strange. You are no longer the size you were, but more than that, your body feels wrong. Even before you accepted the Universe's power within you, were you ever so small? Your limbs so thin? Your skin so smooth? Gingerly, you raise your hands to your face. Feel the outline of it. The short, messy, darkless hair. The smooth-shaven chin. The fabric..... held.... over your eye.....
"Blood and stars...." Your voice sounds foreign to you. Alien. Even your tongue feels wrong in your mouth, your teeth in the wrong shape.
This..... is not your face. Not your body.
You are wearing the bright one's flesh.