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It's been the first of September for about maybe an hour, and Eret is ready to tear her hair out from the nerves.
She paces her room, socks barely making noise upon the wooden floors, alternating between staring out her window to the long path that leads to her Museum and at her crumpled bed, inviting and beckoning. Shadows dance around her walls, guided by the flickering light of her lantern by her deck. Besides it rests paperwork, which she had been supposed to finish hours ago, still waiting to be completed.
"You're gonna burn a hole through the floor," Teras says, from where they lay on her bed, body rigid as they stare at her.
"I thought you were going to sleep," Eret, not bothering to look at them, continues to pace, clutching her elbows nervously, "I distinctly remember you bitching about going to sleep a few hours ago."
"Oh," The little mustelid scoffs, "as if you believed me."
Eret continues to pace.
"I'm just thinking," Eret says, glancing at her window before quickly looking away, "that's not a crime, is it?"
"He told you to wait a month," Teras pauses, voice tentative and hesitant. "…We could go check it out?"
Eret looks at her daemon. They look wary at the mere idea of going to the Museum, fur slowly bristling as the silence extends between them.
"You don't want to go to the Museum," She reminds them, as if it were needed, and yet, tellingly, glances once again at her window, towards where she knows her Museum lays. "It can wait until morning."
"And have to stand you staying up all night worried about it?" Teras weakly jokes. "We both know how much you want to finally read what Wilbur left you."
Eret winces guiltily, but doesn't refute them.
"It's dark outside," she mumbles, averting her eyes.
Saying it's dark outside it's a bit of an understatement. It's a new moon, tonight, so the entire world seems as if it had been dipped into shadows. Early morning fog has already started to gather too, diminishing the already low visibility into almost nothingness.
And yet. The path seems to beckon her, a promise of answers in the old wooden path with the little lanterns dotting the way.
"So it means nobody is gonna be up and about," Teras offers, "less people who can intrude and all that."
Eret glances at her window, and then back at Teras, undecided.
Ever since Wilbur had told her about the little book he had left her in the Museum, Teras had slowly grown more and more reluctant to go back to the building. They would give endless excuses, citing having to do their work as leaders of the kingdom, that their other buildings need finishing, that they should go take care of their garden or the farms; but it was clear as glass, that something in the Museum was wrong. And Teras didn't want to find out about it.
It wasn't like Eret hadn't felt it too.
Despite both their memories beginning when they had arrived to this continent, Eret has never doubted Teras' —or hers— judgment in any situation. It was that strange gut feeling, that always made sure she would get away relatively uninjured. That niggling little voice in the back of her head that told her when to cut her losses and leave.
And that little feeling had gone all the way up ever since Wilbur had left the book.
The Museum was no longer… It didn't feel safe, anymore.
Outwardly, nothing was wrong. She had checked and doubled checked. And yet, the feeling persisted. That sensation of doom, of something dangerous lurking just outside of her gaze. The sensation of feeling like prey in what she had built for herself. It drove her crazy, but as much as her caution warned her to give up, the need to know what Wilbur had left for her was bigger.
And Teras understood it too, of course they understood it as well, clearly seen in the little sighs they gave whenever any bird sailed in the skies above, always looking the tiniest bit more disappointed each time it turned out to be a crow and not that familiar raven.
When Wilbur had come by, that one last time, Eret had seen her flying above, distant and aloft, not bothering to give a single glance to Teras, who had stood on Eret's shoulder and looked gutted with disappointment.
The uncertainty had to be eating them inside up, same as Eret. And yet, the mustelid remained wary of even approaching the building where answers awaited them.
Teras would wait outside for Eret, preferring to bear that brief familiar agony of separation, over stepping inside the Museum. Preferred to shiver and wait for her at the nearby trees, despite how much they loathed being away from Eret, rather than go inside. And she couldn't deny how awful it made her feel.
"… It can wait until morning," she murmured, finally sitting down on her bed and joining Teras, a sigh escaping her as she felt their lithe body quickly scramble up and huddle over her neck, like a living gorget. "It's dark out."
She felt their tiny body tremble with each word she spoke, and gently dipped her chin downwards, as if trying to pay back the favor and cover Teras from the world.
"We should go check it out," Teras voice said, a little bit muffled as they buried their head into her neck. "Otherwise we'll just put it off until the end of times."
Eret hesitated.
"We have to," they repeated. "I… I need to know too."
The two sat there for a few minutes, two halves of a soul so closely pressed together it seemed as if they were one once again.
"Alright," Eret said, and tried to ignore the shiver Teras gave at her confirmation. "Alright… We… We'll go check it out."
She tried to ignore the bad feeling she had about this. Judging by the fur slowly bristling in weariness against her skin, she didn't think she succeeded.
Eret stared at the Museum, Teras curled around her shoulder, and tried to not feel as it the building was looking back.
This closer to all the nearby water streams and rivers made the fog more intense. Even if she tried, she could barely see more than an arms-length away from her. It was very nerve-wracking, to say the least. The cold only made it worse, seeping deep into her bones, and leaving her shivering in her ice-cold armor, feeling as if the metal would give her frostbite dared she touch it with her bare hands.
The fog had enveloped the entire building, making it seem as if it was in the middle of nowhere, appearing out of thin air. The large columns she had so carefully and painstakingly carved to adorn the front seemed to extend into the skies, the top not even visible. Faint lights could be seen inside, the few lanterns that had withstood the cold of the early morning, flickering as if about to die and plunge the entire place into darkness.
Clutching her lantern closer, Eret slowly started to make her way inside.
She had answers to find.
Trying to not seem as if she was running away from something, she quickly darted downstairs and into her little curator room, wasting no time in dumping her armor on the freshly made bed and looking for the winter coat she had left behind a few months ago while working on the building. Teras wasted not a single second into wiggling deeper into the coat, urging her to pull up the hood so they could curl up near her neck without being cold.
As soon as she stepped out of the room, Eret couldn't help her bewildered flinch.
Fog had made its way inside the Museum, filling it up inside in such a way she couldn't even see the walls anymore, leaving her disoriented somehow on where she even was standing. The few remaining lights chose that moment to die as a gust of cold wind came from the outside, plunging her into darkness with only the lantern on her hand.
"…It's not too late to come back on the morning," she whispered, as if afraid to raise her voice, unsure if she was speaking to herself or Teras.
"It's too late to back out," Teras' grim voice answered, her head pressed close to her cheek as if trying to reassure either herself or themself. "Let's go."
Trying to guide herself by the faint whispering of the Nether Portal she had made sure to put in the middle, Eret started slowly walking towards where she hoped the stairs were. Her steps echoed in the silence, her and Teras' breathing feeling like it was loud as a rocket in the muteness of the building.
The sea lanterns barely served as a point of reference, not even bright enough to pierce though the thickness of the mist surrounding the duo, leaving them to stumble blindly ahead.
After what seemed like an eternity, Eret barely managed to catch herself when she stumbled —literally— over the stairs out of the basement. Her gasp of surprise was overshadowed by how loud her heartbeat sounded at the fright, deafening on her ears, Teras' little claws digging into her shoulder as the mustelid pressed closer.
Extending her hand outwards, she took little sidesteps until she finally felt the cold brick walls beneath her palm. Slowly and carefully, she started to climb the stairs, head down to make sure she didn't misstep.
"Do you," Teras' voice broke the silence, perhaps in an effort to calm the two of them down. "Do you remember that time Ellie twisted her wing when Wilbur broke his ankle?"
Eret paused briefly, a small smile forming over her face as the memory slowly trickled in.
"Yeah," she couldn't help the fondness in her tone as she remembered. "The idiot fell off his horse and didn't shout for help so nobody noticed until almost an hour later. Said he thought he could manage to get back on the horse by himself."
"He tried so hard to convince us he was alright," Teras laughed, "and later, when Ellie caught up to us and managed to warn us about the problem, she got so busy scolding Wil that she ended up crashing into a nearby tree."
"They were insufferable afterwards," Eret added, "I had to carry Ellie everywhere because she said it was our fault she got injured."
If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the raven sitting on her other shoulder, haughtily reminding her that Eret ought to be grateful about being able to carry her, while Wilbur and Teras laughed at her from the nearby shade. The brush of those soft feathers, a beak trying to preen her hair.
Everything had been so simple back then.
"She would complain so much about her wing, I ended up constantly giving her treats," she added, huffing amusedly. "And then the little shit started demanding them."
She remembered feeling had so guilty those first weeks over Wilbur's and Ellie's injuries. Especially Ellie's, it had been no secret how much the daemon enjoyed flying and being grounded, especially with her wing practically taped shut to ensure its healing, had seemed like such a torture for the bird.
"Wilbur started accusing you of trying to fatten up Ellie on purpose," Teras giggled, her whiskers tickling Eret's cheek, "got very indignant about it. Followed you everywhere with his crutches, just to point and loudly call you out anytime he saw you feeding her."
It had been both teasing and a complain. Food hadn't been as scarce as it had gotten during the middle of the war, but in the beginning, before any conflict whatsoever, food hadn't been in abundance. They had made so much soup. Carrot soup, potato soup, moss soup in one memorable occasion. At some point, Ellie had caught up on the fact that Eret had been giving her the best parts of her meals, and soon started refusing any treats.
She had quickly returned back to Wilbur not soon after, wing finally healed.
"Yeah," Eret sighed, "they weren't very happy with me…"
She trailed off, steps coming to a stop as she looked up and then back. The fog remained as thick as ever, the stairs vanishing into the mist as they went upwards.
"…Shouldn't," She swallowed, involuntarily tightening her grip on the lantern she held, "shouldn't we have reached the first floor by now?"
Silence as grave as a tomb stretched across them, only cut by their breathes.
"Yeah," Teras murmured, claws digging a bit more into her shoulder. "We should have."
Eret huddled closer to the wall, her back to it as she stared up the stairs and then back down. She couldn't hear anything other than their own respiration, but the sensation of something watching them had only grown more pronounced the longer she stayed still on the stairs.
"We should go back down," Teras whispered, as if trying to avoid the notice of something, "Hide up in our curator room, wait for the sunrise."
"Do you actually want to stay here for longer?" Eret asked almost incredulous, as she tightened the grip on the lantern, "What if the fog stays? Nobody is gonna come looking for us."
"We've been climbing these stairs for the very least almost almost 15 minutes and they take at most only two!" Eret flinched at Teras yell, feeling her bristle. "Something is wrong!"
"I know but, but we can't wait for someone to come help," Eret said, trying and failing to not feel helpless. "We have to continue."
Teras didn't speak up, but she felt them give a nod, their head brushing against their cheek.
Slowly, and more cautious than before, Eret continued to climb the stairs.
Now that the duo had noticed how long the stairs were taking, it seemed that whatever was causing it no longer cared to hide it. The spruce stairs Eret had painstakingly put into place started to disappear, replaced by oak stairs, and then brick stairs, and so on, different materials appearing under his feet with each step.
The walls, too, started to change, the stone blocks he had carved by hands starting to deteriorate, replaced by aged cobblestone, overcome with moss and vines creeping up. The more he climbed, the more disrepair it seemed to overcome the place.
Minutes trickled into hours, by Eret's own estimate, they must have been climbing the stairs for so long it should already be morning outside, sunlight should have started to trickle, and yet, only more darkness awaited them. No fatigue or tiredness flagged him down either, which Eret found slightly more disquieting than the fact the stairs and walls were different.
"Dya would have gotten out by now," Teras said, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, startling Eret from the abruptness, "she and Fundy always manage to get out of everything."
Eret blinked, glancing at her daemon as she continued on.
"She's always been better at getting out of trouble," Teras sighed, "Ellie was always so proud of her for it."
Unwillingly, a memory slammed at full force into the forefront of Eret's mind.
It had been a hot summer afternoon, one of those precious days where no conflict had graced the L'Manberg encampment, leaving their inhabitants to spend the day relaxing and enjoying the brief lull of peace. Eret had spent the majority of that day napping, taking advantage of the calm to catch up on the nights of sleep she had lost by working on the L'Manberg wall.
By the time she had finally roused and gotten off the sunny spot she had chosen for her nap, she had come to find Wilbur in complete disarray, covered in head to toe in dirt and coal, losing a conversation against Dya, the spirited little daemon fiercely defending Fundy's prank, while the foxchild stood to the side, giggling with an amused Teras and Ellie.
It had seemed as if the debate would go on forever, neither willing to budge, up until Ellie, probably already hungry and wanting dinner, intervened. Wilbur had quickly folded upon the words of his own daemon, and had quickly gone to help prepare dinner, murmuring angrily to himself about traitors and betrayals. Ellie had betrayed Wilbur's "ire" by turning to give an exaggerated wink to Dya and Fundy before quickly flying to catch up with her other half.
"Yeah," she murmured, voice rough as she tried to ignore the sudden emotions welling up inside her, "she was always proud of them, an enabler of the highest degree."
"Up until she wasn't," Teras scoffed, and whatever warm emotion had been building inside Eret was doused as quickly as fire did under water.
"Until both of them weren't," Eret said, "…It was a hard time for them."
"It was a hard time for everyone," Teras refuted, claws tensing before she slowly relaxed them. "It was hard for everyone, not only them."
"The Elections—"
"Were their own fault," Teras quickly cut her off. "What kind of idiot allows people that aren't even citizens of the country to run for president?"
"Teras!" Eret snapped at them, almost scandalized. "You shouldn't—"
"I'm right!" They snarled, the mustelid bristling in anger, as a low growl formed in the back of their throat. "If it only had been Fundy and Wilbur running, nothing bad would have happened."
"There were outside factors," she tried to defend.
"It was idiocy," they insisted."You thought the same, up until their stupid mistake blew up in everyone's faces."
Teras quickly cut themselves off, hunching as they realized the bad choice of words.
Silence fell upon them, thick with tension and hurt.
Eret fought back the hurt and anger that threatened to spill over her words like poison, taking a deep breathe and focusing back on the stairs, watching each step with bitterness. She could feel Teras fidgeting on her shoulder, the guilt almost radiating off them, awaiting as if for Eret to snap back at them.
"….I'm sorry," Teras said, as they realized the other wasn't about to break the silence.
Eret heaved a sigh.
"It's okay," She murmured, shaking her head as if to get some clarity, "It was hard for everyone back then."
What an understatement.
Even after all these years, Eret still had nightmares about that election night. The sound of that arrow flying, the golden dust that burst in the air as Wilbur's death echoed across the nation, Teras and her own scream of horror at the sight, it still haunted her even now.
And then. The living nightmare of Pogtopia…
"I still miss them," Teras said, as if to reassure either themselves or her, "But… But it hurts, it truly hurted us Eret."
"I know," She breathed, swallowing roughly and forcing back the tears that threathened to come upon hearing her daemon's agonized voice, "I underst—"
Whatever platitude she was about to give was quickly cut off as pain erupted in her face.
Cursing, Eret fell to the floor, feeling more tha hearing Teras' distress, clutching her face where the pain irradiated from. A warm thick liquid met her hands, and she blinked tears of pain back as she stared at her hands, covered in the blood that was slowly seeping out of her nose, trailing down her face.
"Eret?!" Teras' voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
She looked down. At some point, either by her falling or by themselves, the little mustelid had gotten off her shoulder, and stood on her lap, tiny paws resting on her chest as they tried to look into her eyes.
"Are you okay?" They whispered, voice filled with fear, dark brown eyes staring in concern, "Does it hurt too much?"
"No, no," Eret reassured her, prodding her nose and heaving a sigh of relief upon feeling it wasn't broken, "Just bruised, I think… What, what happened?"
"You crashed into a wall," Teras blinked, twisting their little head to stare ahead, the white tip of her muzzle stained with little droplets of her blood, "I think."
"A fucking what?" Eret scrambled to stand up, one hand grabbing the lantern while the other kept the little daemon tucked against her chest.
And indeed, in front of her, a wall stood, made out of stone bricks.
Familiar stone bricks.
"We got to the top!" Teras exclaimed, before Eret could, "We got out of the stairs!"
Before whatever had messed with them decided to start again, Ert ran up the stairs that were to the sides, twin sighs of relief as they emerged into the first floor of the Museum and weren't trapped once again into those infinite stairs.
"Holy shit," She breathed out, adrenaline and joy mixing into a strange mix inside her as she looked around, leaving her swaying.
Fog still covered everything, leaving her with the same almost null visibility. But the two of them were no longer trapped in a staircase, so she would gladly take that win.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," She said, practically throwing Teras into her hood as she turned towards where she knew the entrance was, "We can come back maybe never."
She hurried towards the entrance.
She…
She was walking towards the entrance.
It was a straight line towards the entrance.
She knew it by heart.
It was a straight line.
She was going to get to the entrance and she was going to leave. And she and Teras would never go back, and everything was going to be alright.
Who cared what Wilbur said?
…She, she was walking towards the entrance.
She was, wasn't she?
One,
three,
five,
seven,
thirteen minutes passed by, her hurried steps slowing to a walk to nothing.
"…Teras," Eret said, voice trembling, as she stared at what greeted them, "Teras, I…"
"That isn't the entrance Eret," The mustelid said, voice blank, as the duo stared at the beginning of the stairs towards the basement.
"It isn't," She confirmed.
Eret stayed seated, as she watched Teras pace in front of her.
"I don't understand," They snarled, their little claws going click-click-click on the polished spruce flooring, "We walked in a straight line. We should have gotten to the entrance."
Eret rested her head upon her knees, arms wrapped around her legs, as she watched her daemon pace.
"We walked in a straight line," Teras repeated, "How is this possible? I… I don't get it."
Teras looked a little lost.
"What do we do?" They asked, "What do we do Eret?"
"… I don't know," She admitted, and tried to not feel guilty over the way they stared at them, "Should we go deeper inside?"
"Are you crazy?!" The mustelid reared back, "Why the fuck would we go deeper inside?"
"Teras," Eret sighed, tilting her head back and staring into the unending fog above, "We've tried already eight times to leave. I don't think a ninth will be the final magic number, y'know?"
With a growl, Teras turned their head abruptly away, as if looking at Eret caused them pain, and resumed her pacing.
"We have to find a way out," They hissed, "There must be a way out."
Eret watched them pace.
She wondered how long has it been since the two of them entered the Museum. Her communicator had run out of batteries what felt like days ago, so she had no way to check the time. The fog and the darkness stayed the same, too, which didn't help a single bit either.
Was it morning already? Had anyone noticed they were gone?
The questions was eating her alive inside. A part of her wished someone, anyone, had noticed they were missing, but a far more cynical and jaded part knew the likely truth was nobody had even noticed. Who would, after all, nobody visited her. Nobody had visited her or Teras these last few months, that she remembered. Her last visitor had been Wilbur, and her self-imposed isolation hadn't helped bring anyone close ever since.
The sensation of something tiny trying to shake her brought her out of her mind, and she blinked, tilting her head back down to see Teras staring at her expectantly, tiny paws resting on her knees as they looked at her.
"Eret?" They repeated, voice laced in concern, "Are you okay?"
"Yes, yes, don't worry, just thinking," She absently reassured, scratching below her nose where the dried blood itched.
"Well," Teras glanced dubiously at her but continued on, "I was thinking, we could go towards a wall and, well, try and break through it?"
"Huh," Eret blinked, "That's a good idea…"
"i know," They preened, gently biting the sleeve of her coat and tugging, words coming out muffled through the fabric, "Come on, let's go!"
Slowly, Eret stood up, gently grabbing Teras and allowing her to curl around her shoulder. She looked to the sides, and picking a direction at random she started walking. The lantern swinged in her grip, the light flickering wildly with each step she took, echoing loudly across the building.
"What were you thinking about?" Teras asked, after a few minutes, their cold nose touching briefly her cheek, "You looked pretty deep in thought back there."
"Ah," Eret blinked, quickly thinking of a lie to say instead, "I was thinking about your name."
"My name?" They sounded puzzled.
"Do you," She hesitated briefly, licking her lips nervously, "do you remember how we were back then?"
"During L'Manberg?" They sounded curious.
"No, ah, before that." She noticed how still Teras suddenly felt on her shoulder, "When, when we experimented around."
"Oh," Teras blinked, tail brushing gently against Eret's throat, "yeah. Your names were so shit back then."
"Wow," She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her, "you also were shit at naming yourself."
"Lies and slander," they quickly refuted, "Ink was a good name."
"No it wasn't," she huffed, "and, you got very annoying whenever the clerk called out the stock."
"Well, he should have made a better job out of making sure to distinguish between Ink and just inks." Teras sniffed haughtily, before pausing and then adding a bit more softly, "I liked thinking about new names with you."
"Yeah." Eret sighed, "It was fun."
And it had been.
Despite how many people in the kingdom would look at them in askance over the fact that, even so old, Teras didn't have a name back then, they had enjoyed making a game out of it, waking each morning and spending a few minutes on deciding which name Teras would like to use. Ink, Shadow, Adria, Aetius, Lain, Perele, Reah, Prax, and a million things. Ranging from serious to silly, they had enjoyed the opportunity to play around with their names as the duo slowly got their bearings on the kingdom.
Waking up without memories had truly sucked, but it had been the little things that made them just a tiny bit better.
"Tommy liked suggesting the worst names ever," Teras wistfully continued, "Danger was a funny one."
"My favorite was Bandit," Eret laughed a bit, "said it fit because "that stupid bandana on your eyes looks like a evildoer, innit?", remember? Kraken almost bit his hand off over it."
"My stripe is not and has never been stupid," Teras huffed, paws briefly over their face before they settled back down. "And he always thought I was a ferret. Insulting."
"You never did correct him, though," Eret paused, "We never corrected any of them about it."
"They had their own ideas about us," They said, quietly, "I think they liked the idea of me being something domestic, especially when… well, you know."
Ellie always had an idea of how much that wasn't true. She must have, to have giften them the name Teras for her daemon. Back then, it had been their little inside joke, the knowing glances the trio shared as they watched Wilbur walk around. And afterwards… well, that wasn't worth thinking about.
"Yeah." Eret sighed, "I get it. People always like more familiar things."
Her nose itched, the lack of sunglasses over her nose bridge sorely lacking at the memory.
"It was for the better," She said, not sure if she was trying to reassure herself or Teras.
"…Was it?"
The rest of the walk continued in silence.
What greeted them, after what feel like days walking, was not a stone brick wall.
It was a cube. Dark. Looming. Made out of blackstone bricks.
Eret recognized it instantly, same as Teras, the two staring at it in shocked silence. What usually would be just be barely protruding out of the walls of the Museum, was now standing alone in the middle of the room.
She hesitated at the front of it, the entrance short and almost claustrophobic, a small wooden sign in the middle of it.
"I don't want to go inside," Teras whispered.
To be fair, neither did Eret. But she had the feeling that if they tried to go elsewhere, the Museum would put them back here.
"Eret," Teras insisted, as she took the first step towards the door, "Eret I really don't want to go inside."
But where else could they go?
"Eret!" Teras' voice rose, their claws digging painfully into her shoulder, "Eret, please. Let's go back."
"…I don't think we can," Eret answered, voice low as she hesitated over the doorway.
Teras whimpered.
The room was smaller than she remembered. Her head just barely not touching the ceiling, the polished blackstone looming on the sides. For some reason, the fog hadn't managed to enter, leaving them to witness the entirety of the room with Eret's lantern.
FINAL CONTROL ROOM
The sign told them almost cheerfully.
The chests stood to the sides, impeccably clean, as if someone had just tidied up. The stone button, on the floor, somehow managed to get all the attention, in the middle of the room as if demanding people to take heed of its presence.
Teras scurried off her shoulder, claws going tac-tac-tac as they crossed the room, giving a wide berth to the button and scrambling to sit on top of one of the chests. Eret put her lantern down near the entrance, and looked around. The room felt a bit smaller, more claustrophobic, but it was the same, the single detail were the soul lanterns also without light, as everything outside of the room was. But, everything else, the same. Finally, one thing, normal.
Finding the book was easy. It was already waiting for her, in the chest that had her name carved into it.
It didn't feel as monumental as it should be, but there it was. The book. She stared at it, silently, the covers aged and old, heavy in her hands.
"I'll…" She swallowed, "I'll read it out loud."
She opened the book and—
She opened—
The book—
It said—
Something is Wrong.
Something is very, very wrong in the Museum.
A gale of wind crashed inside the Finale Control Room.
The book went flying, as the only lantern left was quickly extinguished by the force of the wind.
Yelping, frightened, Eret scrambled up, cursing up a storm.
She tried to take a few steps in front of her, where Teras was sitting.
The button went click under her boot.
And then.
The stone started to move.
And Eret
Fell
Down.
"Teras?" Eret called out into the silent darkness surrounding her. "Teras, where are you?"
No answer came.
Trembling, Eret slowly got up. Coarse stone met her hands when she leaned against the wall. Somehow, she knew she was surrounded by blackstone. It had a different texture, much different from normal stone or cobble. A pattern that had rubbed her hands raw for months, leaving her hissing in pain as she dipped her swollen hands into cold water after long nights building the walls.
"Teras!" She called out, cursing when one hand abruptly crashed into the opposite wall which was much closer than she had thought, "Teras! Where are you?"
She had to crouch, uncomfortably, as to not crash her head into the too low ceiling. To the sides, the walls boxed her in. A corridor, she recognized, some sort of tunnel she was trapped in.
She waited, in vain, for her daemon to call back, to feel their lithe body winding around her legs in an effort to reassure her, for the sensation of their little claws digging into her clothes as they climbed up to perch on her shoulder.
The darkness seemed to press in.
She couldn't even see her own hands.
"Calm down," She told herself, trying to stop her trembling, "Calm down, you'll find them."
Now, where to go? Continue on, or backtrack?
After a few seconds of hesitation, Eret started to walk forward. The sound of her steps on the flooring below made her constantly startle, thinking something or someone else was in here with her. With how dark it was, someone could be just behind her and she would have no idea.
The corridor stretched on and on and on. Sometimes, the corridor would take a sharp turn. To the left, to the right, but with no end despite the fact she walked for what felt like hours. She had taken to walking with her eyes closed, as the darkness seemed to take shapes before her eyes. She knew it was merely her mind, her imagination, but it didn't erase how afraid it made her.
Sometimes, she even swore she could hear people nearby. Their voices a low distant whisper, distorted by the distance stretched between them, words indistinguishable to her ears.
Sometimes, she thought she could recognize the voices.
Occasionally thinking she could recognize the voices made her relax.
But most of the times, it just made her more uncomfortable.
Whispers that reminded her of Wilbur's deranged shouting during the brief times she visited Pogtopia. What sounded like Fundy, pain bleeding into his words to the point it made her nauseous. Dream, in that cadence that only adopted whenever they had one of theirs… talks, often followed by that awful isolation.
Every so often, she would call out for Teras, waiting with hope to hear anything, any clue as to where her daemon was. Her chest ached with their separation, like a jagged wound that wouldn't stop bleeding, a pain too familiar much to her distaste. Her voice grew more and more hoarse, as she continued walking, the only sign of how long she had spent down here.
The corridor continued on.
And so Eret went, trudging on.
Something was down here with her.
Eret could feel it, could hear it.
Its steps, dragging through the floor, always behind. Stopping whenever she did. Following her at the same pace, no matter how much she ran or stopped or walked. She had tried about everything. Even as far as to throw her coat at where she thought the thing was and running away, and yet, it always caught up to her.
Sometimes, she could feel it breathing. Humid hot air on the back of her neck, only to disappear whenever she swung a fist back. Her knuckles were wet with her blood from how often they had crashed into the walls boxing her in. The pain her only way to reassure herself this was real.
Tears and voice had long left her, after one too many breakdowns over her situation. It was almost pathetic, she mused detachedly, how much the situation was getting to her.
It was waiting for her to give up. She knew it. She could feel its hungry gaze, following her slow steps with anticipation.
Exhaustion weighted down her limbs, to the point she felt as if she could barely walk. And yet. She continued. She had to.
No matter how much the pain grew, a sign of how she was getting farther and farther away from Teras, she had to continue forward. She couldn't stop. If she did, she knew it would get her.
Like a shark, she breathed out what could have once counted as a amused sound.
Foolish had told her about it. Some sharks couldn't stop moving, otherwise they would die. Just like she would. So the animals moved and moved and moved, nonstop.
And so. Eret moved.
One step after the other.
She couldn't turn back.
The corridor was too narrow. To the point her shoulders brushed the walls. There was no way she could turn back without running into the thing haunting her steps.
Continue, she pleaded with her exhausted body. Continue.
And so she walked on.
Her feet hurt.
Her boots were broken beyond repair, so long has she been here that the soles had eroded away, leaving her to walk barefoot.
Little pebbles dug into the soles of her feet, leaving them slick with blood from a hundred little gashes which slowly accumulated as she continued on. Her hair felt in greasy clumps over her shoulders, dirtied beyond words from how long it had been since she entered this damned place.
Her hands hurt, the palms scraped from constantly keeping touch with the ever tightening corridors.
She was tired.
After what seemed like forever, her hands touched a wall in front of her. Wary, she felt around her, thinking she had just reached a new turn of the corridor. Coarse blackstone bricks met her hands at both sides.
It was the end of the corridor.
Shock, more than anything else, made her sit down. Making sure to not cut herself, she felt across her belt, in search of anything to defend herself. She had taken off most of her weapons and armor back when, in what seemed like years ago, she had entered her curator room. Like an idiot, she had only grabbed her lantern, too assured that nothing could go wrong inside the building she had made with her two hands.
Her hand finally touched cold metal hanging from her belt.
Heart on her throat, she quickly palmed it, trying to decipher what she had on her hands. It was round, cold to the touch, and went tink-tink when she tapped one of her cracked nails against it.
She startled when the thing suddenly collapsed into itself, making itself tinier.
A spyglass.
The only fucking thing she had was a spyglass.
Had she any voice left, Eret would have laughed herself to tears. Instead, she slowly extended it, and swung it experimentally, ears carefully listening to the sound it made as it cut through the air.
Alright.
Alright, she could make do with this. She could. She could do it.
She scooched backwards, back against the wall, spyglass held tightly between her hurting hands and settled down to wait.
There was nothing else to do.
Even if she couldn't even see her own hands, she knew it was staring at her.
She could feel its heavy gaze. The putrid smell of its breath. The shuffling of its heavy steps as It stood in front of her. How close, how far, she had no idea, but nevertheless she pressed herself closer to the wall.
A stand-off.
A waiting game.
She had survived wars, she had survived heartbreak, loss. Dream never managed to cut off her head, no matter how much he tried.
She would not die here.
She wouldn't. She wouldn't.
She couldn't.
Her throat ached.
It ached fiercely.
She kept staring ahead into the darkness.
The scar on her throat itched, as if it was slowly unraveling, like the rest of her.
Dream had laughed at the cut. Wiped the blood off his nose, the shards of his mask on the floor, and laughed at her cowering figure. The image of his axe, barely stained with her blood, haunted her dreams.
He would have killed her, if she hadn't reacted.
Cut her throat off, while his daemon pinned Teras down. Like he had always threatened.
She always wondered, what that brief death would have felt like. Would it have hurt, or would have it been instantaneous? Would Teras have to stare at her rolling head, while waiting for their dusting?
Teras had been inconsolable afterwards. Taking to staying on her shoulder at all times, as if to protect her fragile neck from another possible attack. A living gorget, of bristling fur and scared brown eyes.
She missed Teras.
She missed her castle.
She missed her bed with the bedsheets she kept forgetting to change. She missed her sheep farms, the animals with too innocent eyes and dyed pink wool. She missed her garden, the shape of her tree giving ample shadow during the hot days. She missed her Museum. She missed her friends. She missed L'Manberg. She missed those memories that never returned, no matter how much Foolish tried to jog her memory.
She missed her home.
She doesn't remember where she left it, but she misses it.
She can't hear the Thing in the corridor anymore.
… She doesn't think it's gone.
There's something inside the tunnels with her.
Where is it?
Where is it?
Where is she?
She wants to go home.
Eret startles awake, as the sound of something approaching grows closer.
Her hands, that had relaxed around the spyglass, tighten. She holds her breath, and doesn't dare blink.
Tac-tac-tac it sounds as it approaches.
It's too close.
Wait.
Tac-tac-tac
Wait.
Tac-tac-tac
Wait.
Tac-tac
Now.
She swings the spyglass, feeling the metal go THUD as it makes contact against something soft, something alive, she feels something give under the hit. The thing yelps, hight pitched. The metal near the edge of the spyglass grinding against the stone, brief sparks blinding Eret. The glass shatters.
Eret breathes, panicked, scrambling to get up, spyglass held like a mace.
The thing keens, a sound a little bit too animalistic. In agony, in pain.
It still lives.
She swings wildly, ignoring the pain of the glass shards as she steps over them. She steps over something soft, feels a crack, and then something sharp digs into her feet.
Biting her tongue so hard until she bleeds, Eret kicks, feeling her feet make contact with a tiny soft body. It thuds against one of the walls of the corridor.
Heaving, Eret stumbles back. It's… It's too small to be the thing that was here before.
It's too small.
She drops the spyglass, heart on her throat, as she scrambles to her knees. The shards bite into her skin, but she pays it no heed as she feels desperately around the floor.
It can't be.
It can't.
It can't.
It—
She touches something small. Something too still.
Eret gasps, breathless, as she carefully grabs it.
It's limp.
It feels as if blood is watering her mouth, the metallic taste from biting too hard her lips and tongue making her nauseous as she cradles the limp thing. The limp animal. She recognizes this texture, this fur, these whiskers, the shape of the body.
"Te—" Her voice breaks, a sound too scratchy, almost inhuman, "Teras."
They're barely breathing.
"Teras," She repeats, almost uselessly, clutching them against her chest, as if something would take them away, "Teras, Teras, Teras."
They keen, softly, as if making a sound took too much energy. They don't speak. They're too limp. They feel slick, and she's unsure if its from their own blood or hers. It feels as if she's covered in it. Seeping, flooding, covering her in a twisted parody of an embrace. A mockery of a birth, she would think if she were capable of doing anything beyond hold their dying daemon.
Please, she thinks, please please please.
Far into the corridor, something shuffles closer. A familiar repulsive breath close to her face, her greasy hair moved by it. It's here.
It's back.
Eret only curls up, Teras clutched to her chest, protecting her with her own body. The shock and horror of it keeps her unable to even dare reach for where she left her spyglass abandoned.
It doesn't matter anyways. What does she care about the Thing, when she can barely feel her daemon breathe.
"Teras," She whispers, like a prayer, "It's okay. I'm sorry. You'll be okay, I, I'm sorry, you'll be okay."
The Thing leans closer
And
And
It
Teras slowly wakes up.
They feel… Bad. Awful. Whatever other word there may be, that too.
Their everything hurts. A lot. They breathe, shallowly, as they struggle to raise their heads.
Something. Something bad had happened.
They look around. They're laying on the grass, settled carefully near the shade. The sun shines, bright above. There's not a single cloud in the sky.
And there, in front of them, the Museum looms.
The Museum.
The Museum!
Yelping in pain, Teras scrambles to stand up, limping forward to look at the building.
They're out?
How?
Why?
Breathing shallowly, they drag themselves just a tiny bit closer to look at it. How did they get out? The last they remember was… was the Final Control Room, the button and then, then that darkness. Getting separated, and stumbling blindly through the tunnel, blind and lost in the shadows. That never ending corridor, the darkness, the fear filling their dust as they searched for Eret.
Where's Eret?
Did… Did she find them?
Where is she?
They cannot feel that awful pain that tells them they've strayed too far. And yet. And yet, Eret's nowhere to be seen. It's just them. Outside. And the Museum.
The sound of footsteps startles them badly, and they jump back, keening in pain as it makes whatever unseen injuries flare up in their body.
"Teras?!" A familiar voice calls, incredulous.
Nauseous from the pain, Teras looks up, thinking that if they could, they would be crying from the agony tearing across their body.
Fundy stares back at them, bewildered, Dya standing beside him with the same confusion.
"Where have you been?!" Fundy exclaimed, jogging closer and looking worriedly at them, "You and Eret were supposed to meet us hours ago! You look like shit!"
"…Hours?" They asked, confused.
"Yeah, we were supposed to eat lunch today," Dya slinks closer, the civet sniffing and then rearing back, "Why the fuck do you smell like blood?!"
"I…" Teras shakes their head, "Today? What's… What's the day?"
Fundy and Dya exchange a worried look.
"It's the first of September," Fundy answers, kneeling down to look at Teras, "Are you okay?"
Teras glances at the Museum. It feels like the building is staring back at them.
"Uh, yes." They shake their head, "Yeah, me and Eret just had a, a unlucky encounter with some monsters."
"Speaking of," Fundy looks around, "Where's Eret?"
"She," Teras swallows, "She just went inside to grab something."
Dya looks at them warily.
"We're, um," Teras clears their throat and continues, "We're sorry, we got lost track of time. We'll make it up for you."
"Okay," Fundy looks at them, and back at the Museum, "Let me grab Eret and we can go—"
"No, no," They quickly deny, "You know how Eret gets, she's probably distracted with, um, with one of the exhibitions. I'd rather wait here than inside, you know, a little bit of sunshine and all that."
"Ah," Fundy's face sours, far too familiar with how distracted Eret gets with buildings.
"We'll speak later," Teras lies, "Don't let us make you late for anything."
"…If you're sure," Slowly, Fundy gets up, looking hesitant, "We did promise Tubbo we would meet up with him at Snowchester."
"You sure you don't want us to wait with you?" Dya asks, concerned, "We don't mind."
"Dya—!"
"Yes," Teras nods, "Don't worry. Give Tubbo and his family our regards."
Dya throws her one last concerned look, but quickly trots towards Fundy after his exasperated call, the duo quickly disappearing down the path.
Finally alone, Teras looks once again at the Museum.
Eret's must be inside. They hesitate.
They should… They should go inside, no? Go inside, try and find Eret. Before everything gets weird again.
Their claws dig into the grass.
They should go inside…
They try to stand up, but quickly realize what a mistake that is, barely able to not yell at the agony that spears them upon moving. They collapse back into the grass, heaving, desesperatly trying to catch their breathe. Okay, not moving anytime soon. Got it.
They look at the Museum. The entrance is covered in soft sunlight, invitingly, enticing them closer.
They.
They can wait.
Teras settles down, and begins grooming their fur, grimacing at the taste of blood on theri fur. They'll wait for Eret. She has to come out. They did, so she must come out too.
Any minute now. She'll come out.
And the two of them can go grab lunch with Fundy and laugh and forget about all of this.
Any minute.
Eret will come out.
She has to.
Right?