Work Text
This is the list.It was first put together by a user named Nemure from the now-defunct Lunaescence. I was inspired (And slightly pushed) to try out this challenge, I'm not particularly setting a "goal" for myself other than to write something that isn't a full-length novel and find ways to practice writing. Some of these might be WIPs that I'm attempting to flesh out while others might just be fan dribbles of my favorite media pieces and some might even be previous commissions that I have made for my friends. Tags, warnings, and other pieces of information will be uploaded with each chapter including inspirations. Stars will indicate the chapters I have completed!
*1. Trust
*2. Reluctance
*3. Important
*4. Sympathy
*5. Simplicity
*6. Appearance
*7. Telephone
*8. Kindness
*9. Hatred
10. Jealousy
11. Quiver
12. Communicate
13. Recommendation
14. Tear
15. Black & White
16. Spill
17. Flesh
18. Race
19. Suffocate
20. Mentality
21. Sinister
22. Inception
23. Ignition
24. Found
25. Irresistible
26. Weight
27. Serious
28. Record
29. Justify
30. Snowflake
31. Volcano
32. Limb
33. Trampoline
34. Realize
35. Shatter
36. Heart Break
37. Waning
38. Temperature
39. Tale
40. Impediment
41. Parry
42. Topple
43. Cover
44. Duty
45. Beg
46. Success
47. Sky
48. Sunset
49. Cry
50. Impress
51. Laugh
52. Imprison
53. Emporium
54. Intelligence
55. History
56. Turn
57. Failure
58. Seduce
59. Time
60. Miracle
61. Test
62. Truth
63. Destitute
64. Tingle
65. Responsible
66. Irritate
67. Told You
68. Lie
69. Remember
70. Bird
71. Lolwut?
72. Doubt
73. Die
74. Resurrect
75. Irregular
76. Protect
77. Unreasonable
78. To Be Like Her/Him
79. Dream
80. How Come
81. Loved
82. Warmth
83. Blind
84. Fire
85. Waste
86. Opportunity
87. Anemone
88. Pink Carnation
89. Heather
90. Hyacinth
91. Yellow Tulip
92. Passion
93. Luck
94. Caring
95. Night View
96. Tar
97. Sinking
98. Trap
99. Kiss
100. Embrace
101. Smile
102. Hands
103. Intertwine
104. Cut
105. Nothing
106. False
107. Sigh
108. Gentle
109. Serene
110. Sunrise
111. Fondness
112. Meeting
113. Heart
114. Decision
115. Loss
116. Happiness
117. Never Let You Go
118. Temptation
119. Glibness
120. Climb
121. Persist
122. Tell Me
123. Desire
124. Bite
125. Scar
126. Enjoy
127. Home
128. Reunion
129. Pale
130. Hope
131. Shrug
132. Blush
133. Fun
134. Sealed
135. Never Again
136. Sleep
137. Bomb
138. Shadow
139. Bullet
140. Target
141. Bright
142. Affection
143. Avoid
144. Nervous
145. Heaven
146. Table
147. Deep
148. Outlook
149. Piece
150. Key
I hope you have fun reading!
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Do you trust me?” I look up at her, a pristine white flower crown on her brow, I know she is asking such a simple question, and yet I can’t bring myself to answer in time, “Have you ever trusted me?” She asks turning her head towards me and I can only look up at her as I stare at how the sun shines through her blonde hair, how it makes it glow as if she is surrounded by divinity itself. Her crown of flowers only solidifies such thoughts, “I have trusted you since I laid eyes upon you.” I say as eloquently as I can, keeping my hand loose on the horse’s reigns that she sits upon. She is a drop of light against the muddy earth, a blooming rose that has not been clipped, surrounded by thorns tipped with blood yet she remains pristine. Untouched by the cruelty of her father and the surrounding lands that dare not bow to his rule. As my thoughts turn in my mind, there is such a contrast between us. I am her Knight, yet I can never bring myself to dwell on the thought for too long, her love for Ambrose is painfully apparent. I have little to offer her in the way of intellect or conversation and, too many secrets that must remain hidden at all costs. My heart is hammering inside my chest already, to bring up such a question while we near aimlessly march towards her new home, Tornia, to be wed to Prince Tzayn. Something doesn’t feel quite right, it hasn’t since we left Brigant, but, there are few words I can use to describe such a feeling. Instead, I keep my mouth shut and hope my answer is good enough for the Princess as she continues to look at me as if she were attempting to pluck my thoughts free from my mind. I am nothing to her, a simple guard that her brother demanded I attend to while we march. An order I dared not refuse for fear of his wit against my lack of it. Her eyes narrow and I catch the sight of her jaw tightening for just a moment before she sighs and looks away at last, “I would hope you trust me enough to speak plainly, Sir Knight.” I bite my tongue harder, a placid smile appearing on my face, “I speak as plainly as I possibly can, Princess.” It's not completely disingenuous, I cannot correct her though, I can never correct her. For her bother would have my head if he so much as suspected that one of his trusted Knights was the sister of a traitor. He would have me beheaded just knowing that I was no man. A part of me does trust her, Princess Catherine had never shown me any hint of violence, nor any malicious craving for blood as her brothers and father did. But, another part of me knows that these secrets must go to the very grave of me, I will never fully trust her. She sighs again, like a fusing child and I am reminded of her youth, “Then answer me plainly, do you trust me?” She asked again, turning back towards me yet her chin was held high, regal. “Yes, Princess.” I answer, more confidently than before. She stares at me for a moment longer, my skin crawls under her gaze, she could not know my secrets. I was too careful. Perhaps she is attempting to bait it out of me. I continue instead to look back at her with my carefully crafted smile and that placates her enough to finally have her look away,“I want you to become my personal guard. Will you follow me wherever I go?” “Yes, Princess.” I say again turning away from her as I stare at the open road my hand tightening on the reigns, “Will you do as I command?” “Yes, Princess.” “Will you recognize me as Queen and continue to remain loyal to me and only me?” “Yes, Princess.” My jaw tightens around the words, my throat tightening enough to make it hard to breathe, to focus. I wish I was smarter than I am. I wish I could find what sort of game she was attempting to play, I wish I could play said game with her. To move the correct pieces of this verbal transfer that she is playing with my life, with my loyalty. Already, she is gathering attention with her integration into Torina, with her white-haired people matching the countless flowers that littered the fields and forests of this land. Perhaps she is garnering for more loyalty, maybe she feels the same as I, where something does not sit right. I force myself to relax my fingers on the reigns of her horse, hoping that this game is finished with, I am not witty enough to play properly and she seems satisfied with my answers, even as she looked forward with furrowed brows, worry creasing her face so lightly hardly anyone may notice. All while I bite the inside of my cheek, all while I feel the presence of her bother’s eyes on all of us, boring into both her and my back. And, after a moment longer, I decide I do trust her. The only other option to remain loyal to her conniving brother, to put my trust in his already bloodied hands, “You will wear my flower then.” She speaks again, quieter this time, “And when we make camp for the night, I want you to guard my tent.” She is more sure of herself and I can tell she feels the same as I do. Something is not quite right, though, I cannot tell what but as I warily glance towards Ambrose I can see that he is just the same, tense, wary, unsure. And I make my decision. Better to die for someone kind than for someone unjust and cruel. I decide that I will do all that I can to protect her, I decide that I will sooner die for her than see her fall to despair. “Yes, Princess.” Again, my heart is hammering in my chest, like a bird caught in a cage, “I trust you.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He keeps his hand over the knife, breathing shallowly as he warred with himself. His eyes remained completely still though, watching her as she simply stares back at him. They are at a stand-still, a Falcon and a Witch, he knows what he must do but he’s unsure if he can bring himself to do it. “What’s it going to be, Spook?” Her voice is knives against his chest, he feels like he’s going to fall apart if he stays still any longer. She smiles coyly, he can practically see the darkness in her, how it crawled towards her behind her eyes. Creeping through her blood, if there was anything at all that Master Thomas had taught him, it was that every Witch eventually turns. They will always turn, eventually. They had both thought that after Mother Malkin had been defeated then no more evil Queens would come to power, how wrong both of them were. She had brought darkness back into the world, new Generals that would sooner see the world crumble than share their power with anyone else. And here he was, backed against one of the ornate windows in Mother Malkin’s old fortress, its golden splendor returned because of her. A Witch who thought herself the Queen of the darkness and not a slave to it as she had become. She tilted her head, “Make your choice, Spook. Or I will make it for you.” “You let darkness take you.” His voice came out quiet, he was almost expecting it to shake, “I cannot let you plunge this world back into war.” “Then kill me, Henry.” She said it so easily as if he had not loved her for so long. As if she had not loved him, “Or rule this world with me, you are either with me or against me.” “You know I can’t. You used to be good, you used to be kind.” “Time has made me stronger, while it has done nothing but make you weak.” Her smile morphed into a sneer of disgust, “And here I thought Spooks were cold-hearted.” With that she began to change, her hazel eyes shifted into that of dragons and Henry found just enough adrenaline in his veins to leap to the side, away from the wild swing of her new tail. With a great shriek, she was in the air and he mourned the final loss of what she once was to him. He could not stop himself again, he could not let the world be plunged back into war simply because of his foolishness to love a Witch. Scrambling outside he watched her circle the grand courtyard, her claws outstretched towards him. Finally pulling free his damned knife Henry dove to the side as the dragon tore through the masonry, unable to stop its advance. Taking advantage of the dust and rubble he threw the knife haphazardly successfully embedding it into the dragon’s thigh, he could no longer think of this beast as his beloved Agatha. She was gone to the darkness. The beast wailed, twisting to search for him but he didn’t give it the chance to find him properly. Reaching into his pocket he grabbed a fistful of Silverbane and threw it, the beast wailing again as its power began to wane. He couldn’t pause, he could not think any further, of all the Witches Master Thomas had told him about, how to kill them, how to trap them. He never thought such lessons would be necessary, he never thought Agatha would threaten to become another Mother Malkin. The Dragon’s cries started muddling with that of a woman’s, the Silverbane doing its work as her form began to fade but Henry had already drawn his silver sword. His knuckles white against the hilt he ran into the chaos that surrounded the Dragon and with a near-automatic swing, a trained hand, he plunged the blade into the beast’s chest. He kept his eyes closed, squeezed tightly against what horror he dared not see. His heartbeat almost drowned out the weak and terrible cry that Agatha’s voice echoed as she landed with a dull thud. As if someone had simply dropped a satchel of flour she crumpled and he felt the reverberation through his sword, he would not see her face stricken. He would not see the dry, blackened blood burst from her chest, but he could hear it. He could feel the last wheeze that rushed through her before she finally went still. It felt like an eternity, standing there with his eyes shut, his teeth grinding together as he attempted to keep the sudden rush of tears at bay, he would not cry. But, fate and life are cruel and the weight of his loss was simply too much to bear. With a scream Henry finally opened his eyes, he saw Agatha on the ground, her eyes wide and lifeless, blankly staring at the sky with her lips parted. Tears blurred his vision of her and if anyone else had looked upon her they might just assume she were staring at the clouds, about to foretell a storm. He took a shaking breath, feeling the tears drip down his cheeks in little rivers before collapsing beside her as a sob tore through him. She was good. She was kind. But darkness took her from him and now, she was gone. He would have to burn her, she would not dissipate as weaker Witches did. But, he could not bring himself to do so quite yet. Instead, he sat there for a time simply relishing in the silence, in the memories even if time would simply wash all of it away.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The guards talk quietly with one another, one of them sighing heavily after finishing his mug, “There’s no telling where that might be, and you know it’s all stories anyhow.” His voice slurs slightly with the drink, this is his fourth mug now, I shift from one foot to the other the smile on my face growing as they finally drift back to the topic at hand. One of the other guards leans over, swaying a little, he’s even more drunk than the first one, “Stories all hold truths,” he looks around warily, completely unaware of the silent shadow I have become in the rafters just above them, my smile remains and I lick my dry lips in anticipation as he pulls out a small leather piece, “I found this out in the old Fortress towards the East, it must’ve been one of the last ships that sunk.” “Ah, hence the stories. What makes you think this is truth?” “Witches don’t dabble in lies,” the second one laughed lightly, waving around the piece, my eyes followed along with it before rolling them, if they would just get to the damn point, “it was a Witch on that ship and you know it as well as I do. This is the piece, it has all of the steps, everything needed to find it, and more.” His smile was crooked, the other started to smile along with him. That was all I needed. With a wicked smile, I slipped backward, boots making no sound against the old sturdy wood beams. Without pausing I spun and caught sight of Sebastian giving him a quick nod which he responded with one of his own. This was it. This was what we’ve been looking for for the past month. I was giddy with excitement as I scrambled across the beams towards the second floor of the tavern before dropping down into a seat in the corner. I didn’t even need to think about it anymore, my bones moved, face shifting into the General that was currently visiting this town. My jaw splits, shoulders spreading as my chest fills the overly baggy shirt, my calves lengthening to fit the boots I had stolen properly and after a few lazy blinks I felt the scar across my face cutting through my lip vanish replaced with smooth skin that wasn’t my own. I stayed put for just a few more seconds, throwing the wide-brimmed hat I had stolen as well onto my now near-bald head before standing and sauntering down the stairs, “Gents!” My voice morphed into that of the deep baritone of the General, Sebastian was already waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, his own regalia the selling point of my ‘arrival’. I gave them a flashy smile, watching them both straighten eyes widening, “At ease, the commodore wishes to see you two.” “What for?” One asks, leaning back in his chair, I take a few steps forward raising a brow, “Have you forgotten what time it is gents? The Governor’s daughter is visiting today.” “Oh shit.” The one with the leather piece sighed and put his head into his hands, “That was today wasn’t it?” “The commodore is going to be mightily cross with the two of you if you don’t go now and fall in line.” I leaned forward putting my hand onto the table, he had dropped it, perfect. The second one squinted at me, he wouldn’t find anything that wasn’t the visiting General, but, maybe I chose the incorrect words, “Best get moving.” I warned turning as I opened my hand to the door, unfortunately, as I turned I saw not only the Commodore but the General in tow beside him. Well, best get moving indeed. Without giving anyone any time to think I snatched up the leather piece and made a run for it, grabbing Sebastian as I rushed up the stairs, “General?” One of them called only to gain the attention of the real General who had stopped at the entrance, staring down Sebastian with one of the heaviest glares I’ve ever seen, “Wh-“ he didn’t get the chance to finish as the Commodore drew his sword, “Imposter!” He yelled and I kicked up my feet, already starting to run up the stairs, Sebastian’s arm still clutched in my tight fingers as he easily followed me up the stairs, “Seize them!” The sound of screeching steel echoed around the entire tavern as I bound the last few steps, I got what I needed, and now it was time to vanish. The entire tavern burst into noise and movement, guards seemed to appear out of thin air as they followed the General and the Commodore, swords raised and glares on their faces. A few of the patrons didn’t take too kindly to their drinking and eating being interrupted and before half of the guards had made it up the stairs an all-out brawl had started. I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from my throat the second I paused to see one of the guards get tackled by a burly fishmonger who was clearly very drunk. Sebastian pulled my arm tearing me away from the chaos that reigned as we ran for the balcony. “I cannot believe you somehow made that work.” Sebastian said quickly, tossing off the stupid hat that I had stolen for him, “Oh come on!” I yell back, kicking open the doors and tossing my hat as well before rushing to the small wooden path that made up the timbers between the hardly spaced buildings, “I make everything work, you just need to trust me more often!” I make it a few wavering steps forward before an arrow wizzes past my face embedding itself into the old wood causing me to stumble backwards. Sebastian thankfully, stays behind me and pushes his hands against my back, “Oh, and you call this trustworthy?” He snaps as I regain my balance, glancing down just enough to see the conglomeration of numerous guards with their swords and bows out, “Of course! You’re not dead yet are you?” A smile appears on my face at the sight of the General, staring back at his own face from on high, oh, I’ll never get tired of that, “Now move!” I yell reaching back to grab him again and rushing off. The path is horribly thin, I keep my eyes locked onto it as I move as quickly as possible, shedding the horribly tacky coat as I let my bones rearrange themselves once more, the image of a cabin boy that I had met before appearing in my mind, mussed brown hair that was too long for his face, pale skin with thousands of freckles, green eyes that where much too wide. Of course, now none of the clothes I had fit, as I continued to weave through the buildings listening to the commotion echoing beneath and around us, “Could you please pick a better time for that?” Sebastian pleads, nearly out of breath as he tosses the guard's coat as well, I glance back at him to find him fishing his glasses from his pocket, haphazardly shoving them onto his face. I smile back at him, toothy and wild, “You’ve got a vest!” We vanish between two cramped buildings, one of them being a brothel, the other I’m not so sure about, probably some noble house that I’ve never been in, “Give!” “Really?!” He gapes at me, slamming his back against one of the buildings, I can hear the guards screaming at one another, wondering which road to take to track us down, “Of all the things to turn into-“ “Shut up and give me your vest!” I snap back slamming my back against the adjacent wall and tightening the pants that I had picked up this morning making sure the leather piece was still tucked away properly. He rolled his eyes, already unbuttoning the few buttons that clasped it together before tossing it to me with a huff, already I was planning where we could go as I slipped it on and tucked the oversized shirt in. Beside me was a window, tinted a rich violet, the brothel. Perfect. As soon as everything was fixed I turned and unlatched it, “Briar, no, I am not-“ “Don’t care!” I interjected already starting to climb through the window, luckily for both of us, the room was empty, “Come on!” I grabbed his collar, and much to his reluctant dismay he followed my yank and tumbled into the empty room. Already the noise from outside was fading, after slamming the window closed, the noise was gone save for the music echoing downstairs. I fell back, breathing hard before laughing wildly, doing this was always more fun than anything. Sebastian fell beside me, breathing hard and sweating, “Your antics are going to end up getting us killed Briar.” He wheezed out, fixing his round glasses before laying flat, “I got it though! I fucking got it!” I took a breath and yanked the piece from my pocket, waving it around viciously, “Months of searching and now we have it!” Sebastian laughed at that, light and airy as he finally watched his breath before shaking his head, “Months of searching for one piece of leather, and now we’re going to get ourselves into more trouble.” “Aww,” I looked at him, sitting up with a lopsided smile, “you know I’ll keep you safe.” He laughed again, leaning over and grabbing my shoulder with a large smile, “If you weren’t so goddamned convincing.” He sighed, looking at the folded piece, “Where are we going next?” His face changed, his smile vanishing in a moment as he stared at my hands. I glanced down, and my stomach dropped, darkness, like ink slowly spreading underneath my skin had spread to my knuckles my nails now sharper than before. Fuck. It was like a damn clock that I couldn’t read. I thought I would have more time. I buried my fingers into the fabric of my pants frustration starting to rise as I unfolded the damned piece, with the curse now well on its way, I needed to get this show on the road, “Let's find out shall we?” I kept my voice steady, keeping out the sudden panic and anger that had bubbled up in my throat, Sebastian gave me a saddened smile before snatching the piece from me and staring down at it, “Damnit, it’s in Old Tongue.” He sighed eyebrows furrowing as he studied it. I stood quickly, my shoulders and neck cracking as I placed a smile back on my face, “While you translate that, I think I’ll go downstairs and enjoy the revelry!” Sebastian rolled his eyes, standing with me, “Of course you will.” “I’ll get you a few drinks too, come on.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Dun Harald's life could be wrapped up prettily into a package labeled 'unlucky'. His earliest memory is when he was a child and his village was raided by a band of mercenaries that left nothing behind in their wake. Many believe this was when he lost his mind. He was five when it happened, he and his family hadn't heard the commotion outside until it was too late. After the door had been busted down in his tiny cottage at the edge of town and almost twenty people all screaming flooded into their home. Both he and his two younger sisters had been taken, snatched up from their home after the mercenaries had killed their parents. Luckily, he was the only one to see their lifeless bodies on the floor and his two sisters did not see what had become of their home and their family. Even more so, they had not seen what had become of their dear brother years later. Separated from his sisters, Crisantha and Lelli he was carried back to their loud and busy hovel deep in the Dark woods that clung to the edge of his own forest home. But, he hoped, he kept hoping, one day he would see them again, one day he would have his little family back. The men of the large group kept him busy by shoving meaningless tasks onto him, washing the dishes, cleaning the toilets, and wiping away dried blood on their weapons after a particularly long raid. Dun never really got over his initial fear of them and shied away from rebelling for years. Whenever he did speak up or lashed out at how unfairly he was being treated or, how they pulled women and children by their hair across the ground, they would tie his wrists around one of the many large boulders nicknamed 'Blooding Stones' and whipped him for hours at a time tearing through the few shirts that he hoarded for himself. After five years of this constant treatment, he had learned to simply nod along with the orders he was given, shucking away everything he cared about and tucking it all away into his head to hold it close in secrecy. He only ate when the men were finished. Only slept when the men had been asleep for hours. Too exhausted to sneak out and run away, too worried about his lost sisters that he could only hope weren't dead already. He still held onto the barest of hopes, perhaps a foolish notion, a childish dream. But it was all he had left of his previous life, all that made him Dun Harald. It wasn't until the sixth year he had been a slave to these people that one of them took pity on him. He had grown too skinny and wobbled when he walked for too long on his knobby knees. Their name was Durnik and that's all they would ever have him call them, they always wore a hood and never showed an inch of skin to the light but after one night of restless sleep, Dun woke abruptly to tapping on his little window next to his bed. Durnik began sneaking him small mechanical trinkets to toy with, tiny spinning gears with carefully etched runes and prongs that plucked tiny notes of music when they turned, rings that opened to reveal tiny gems hidden inside the open circle they created when pulled apart and put against the light. Little boxes that hissed when disturbed and bit you when pulled too hard only opening happily if you sang songs to them to reveal golden coins, small pictures or glittering gems that caught the moonlight inside them.It wasn't long until Dun had a small stash of these wondrous trinkets hidden away in his tiny room, stashed under the creaky floorboard under his bed only daring to pull them out to toy within the dead of night. One night Durnik had whispered to him to follow them through the tiny window saying they had something to show him, Dun followed them eagerly hoping for another tiny trinket and, without thinking followed them far away from the camp and deep into the Dark Woods. It felt invigorating and he felt like he could finally breathe deeply as he dutifully followed them. With a small smile on his face, he marveled at the Dark Woods towering trees and whispering leaves, before they suddenly turned to face him, stopping Dun in his tracks. They whispered low and their voice carried through the air like a sliver of wind directed at Dun's head, telling him about every secret the Dark Woods held including that they could bring back something or someone, anything that he desired if he only let himself slip into shadow as they had so long ago. Dun didn't think twice about any of it, not about what they meant by 'long ago' or why every single secret they told him sent a cold rock of dread falling into his stomach, or even why all of a sudden they began to tick and hiss quietly under their clothes like the small trinkets he toyed with when he could. Before he even had the chance to think about any of that he practically shouted his sister's names the thought of having them back within his arms blooming the nearly lost feeling of hope that dread had been eating away. Durnik shook like a machine disassembling suddenly and quickly, the ticking and hissing echoing through charcoal-black trees and clawing shadows, did they always have metal teeth? Did they always have beady red eyes? Before he could truly realize how terrifying his only friend was, large metal ropes burst through Durnik's chest and wrapped over his bony arms digging into his skin angrily before heating quickly and scorching his skin. Dun screeched and cried against the pain begging them to stop, to let him go but they only continued to shake, like an empty soundless laughter that made their body rattle. Dun collapsed onto the ground sobbing uncontrollably, his arms were going to fall off from the now red-hot metal that still clung to his arms his skin blistering and bubbling. There was something else with them in the Dark Woods. Something slithering through the pale moonlight that pushed passed the bone-like trees and, it sobbed with him. Dun turned quickly to see his two sisters, dirty and bruised huddled together tightly just at the edge of the light. He felt a swell of happiness in his chest that nearly pushed past the searing pain in his arms just for a moment. The ropes had suddenly stopped heating, stopped tugging at him and Durnik had stopped shaking. He realized his only friend was instead, a metal golem that ran out of magic to drink. But, none of that mattered anymore to Dun. His sisters were here! His wish was granted! He didn't care about what kind of damage he would have to glance over not now that his sisters were here, just at the edge of the tree line shaking and whimpering. Dun didn't even bother to peel the ropes from his skin as he ran to them cooing happily and smiling as best he could. But there was something wrong, their long pointed ears that he knew were replaced with curled horns, their hair fell out of their heads in large tangled clumps and their eyes had fallen from their faces. These were not his sisters, these were demons pulled back from death and resurrected with cruel magic. Durnik tricked him. That was when Dun began to laugh, loud and harsh. He felt like he was falling deeper and deeper away from the world, he could hear the forest's whispers in his head as he invited the shadows in hoping they could give him gifts like Durnik had. Trinkets, things he could use to escape, things that were of use. Since that night Dun had escaped his captors and ran to the nearest city his legs could get him to. He had hoped for a better life when he was younger. One where he could be an honest man but his sense of trust and love had long since been killed and now he stole from whoever would pass him, whoever would be foolish enough to ask about the odd mechanical trinket in his hands. He had created his mechanical wonders, all used for stealing away the things people loved just for another pouch of coin, all just for another savage smile as he cloaked himself in the darkness he carried with him. Dun might be unlucky, his fingers shake when he tries to open a lock, he might doze in the back of a cart that's ready to leave the city, and he might even be caught once or twice in the act of stealing. But the fire in his belly hasn't gone out, the thrill of hearing another agonizing scream break through the night as they realize their secrets had been stolen or the last memory of their loved ones broken into pieces and scattered all over the city. Dun might be unlucky but he can still hear the secrets of the Dark Woods in his head that tell him where he needs to hide, how he needs to act to become unsuspecting, and where to look when reaching for others' secrets. "I can find your secrets, and they're that much sweeter when you're crying." -Dun Harald the Unlucky.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The music started again, something jaunty and fast-paced, Marigold smiled at her before glancing back at Ashi who was already up and dancing around the fire, a warm smile splayed across her tanned face as she opened her arms to another person who had jumped up at the change in tune. It had been a rather long day, she was tired and it was plain to see that Ashi was tired as well, what with the hour it took for her to finally come out of her rather extravagant Merchant garb into her more plain clothes. Yet, there she was, dancing joyfully after cook was finally able to finish dinner for the entire camp, another woman’s hand in hers. She felt the prickling of jealousy tap against her spine, she had the entirety of the day to speak with her, to come closer and further their shortened bond but, she was too much of a coward. Too frightful to just stand up and- go. Curling tighter into her seat Eco grumbled, wrapping her arms around herself, “Don’t be such a spoilsport.” Kath laughed, bumping her shoulder, “Go on, the next song is about to start.” “Wh- me?” Eco gawked at her, she was the farthest thing from a dancer, let alone brave enough to just get up and dance with Ashi, everyone would be watching her, and a wave of shudders took away that heated prickling from before. She could never dance in front of people, even the people who had joined them in their little plot of land where they made camp, she just, couldn’t gather up the courage. Marigold smiled at her again, “Here,” she handed Eco a large tankard of cheap ale, it was still nearly full, “liquid courage then.” Eco took it without a second thought, almost downing half of it in just a few gulps. That was no cheap ale. It burned her throat as it slid down to her chest causing her to cough as she tried to hand it back to Marigold who only laughed at her plight, “The Smith family’s ale. Should have warned you.” “You think?” Eco coughed wiping her mouth roughly. The Smith family was very well known for their brews and tonics, most of all their ale. She was a little surprised Marigold was able to get an entire tankard of it, must’ve been a rather pretty penny for her to get it. Before she had the chance to gather herself once more, the song had all but ended, wrapping up neatly with a rather grand finishing and she couldn’t help herself but stare at Ashi who had led the woman into a rather flourished bow. She was wearing her plain clothes, her Merchant Kings clothing she had donned before was showy, a heritage piece that displayed their Kingdom’s colors. She of course did not wear the delicate pieces, being unmarried and one of the thirteen Merchant Kings from the Desert Ashi was an honored woman who wore the golden tunic beneath the intricately carved shoulder pauldron that her mother wore, and her mother before her. Her entire garb was one that honored power and her family's long heritage of metal and jewel craft. She had kept the metal rings in her hair, keeping it off the nape of her neck even while in the Ice Flats, where the weather never got warm enough, she kept her long brown hair up at all times. They glinted in the firelight with every turn of her heel, the hints of sapphires, emeralds, and, rubies flashing against the darkened night. Eco was so busy staring that she hardly noticed the next song started, hardly noticed that she was now leaning forward, anticipation building in her veins before it was suddenly too late. Ashi seemed to appear before her, smile warm and soft against the sharpened shadows as she was back-lit by the fire and Eco snapped herself awake, “M-me?” Her voice came out stuttering, yet, already slurring, that damned ale worked much too well. Ashi laughed, sweet and melodic if not rich as well, something Eco would never get used to, something she couldn’t, her hand already reaching out to whisk her into the next dance. The next song already starting, the slow build of stings that was already starting to climb and Eco threw her cautions away in the most fleeting moment she could find, “Come!” Ashi nearly hauled Eco to her feet, holding her hand so lightly yet there was an urgency in it, the heat of her palm nearly scorching Eco’s chilled skin but, she did not pull away. A smile appeared on her face, already lost in the next jaunty tune, the pace going faster by the second as Ashi led her into a series of twirls. Eco knew this dance, she had seen the performers plenty of times, though not a dancer herself she had picked up on their placements and how this particular dance was led, and with that knowledge, her heart leaped up into her chest. Ashi’s smile did not fade, crossing Eco’s arms over her font along with Ashi’s arms in a strange sort of hug that pressed her back to Ashi’s chest as the music suddenly turned quieter for just a moment, giving way to the drums, jaw harp, and lute. It felt as if she were suffocating, her head turning faster than her thoughts could even form. They were pressed so close, she could feel Ashi’s breath over the nape of her neck before being swung back outwards, their fingers laced tightly together as Eco let muscle memory take hold and she followed the kick that was to follow only to be pulled back into Ashi’s embrace and literally hoisted up by her hips. A bubble of laughter burst from her throat drowned out by the din of their camp, the fire, and the musicians, but, nothing could drown out Ashi’s boisterous laugh that followed, Echo’s hands tight on her shoulders as she was spun once, twice, three times before being placed back down so they could continue their dance. Eco was absolutely giddy, rushes of joyous laughter flew from her lips as she continued to dance to the fast-paced tune, surprised that she was even able to keep up with Ashi as they locked fingers once more, pushing out then in, breaking one hold in favor to spin before yanking back. She recognized this dance, the Desert had many names for it, one of the most common ones being ‘Jüta’ meaning ‘ties’. The dance symbolized people getting tied together into intricate knots, whether it be a knot of acquaintanceship, friendship, close relations, or, partners. And all Eco could think, all she could grasp in this fast-paced dance, with a smile painted over her face just as wide and bright as Ashi’s, was that she was hoping to be just as close as Eco wished to be with her. She was pulled back to her chest, Ashi’s arms crossed over her front, hands still laced tightly together as Eco was nearly carried through the next few steps and she could feel the laughter rumbling through Ashi’s chest. Untwisted once again she was flung outwards, spinning wildly along with Ashi before the music reached its crescendo, the fastest it could be and the loudest before finishing with a flourish. Eco was breathing hard when they finally finished, fingers intertwined and smiles still on their faces, both breathless and now dizzy from all their twirling. There was a roar of cheers and applause, congratulating the musicians and all those that had gotten up to dance and Eco felt her face flush hot against the sudden attention, their little bubble of laughter and breathless smiles so suddenly broken but, she couldn’t quite find a reason to care at this moment. Not with Ashi’s fingers still laced with hers, not with her smiling at her like that, deep brown eyes shining against the fire right beside them. Eco was, elated, overjoyed, ecstatic, everything under the blanket of stars that shown above them and it was hard to keep such a feeling contained as yet another bout of laughter burst free from her chest with Ashi to follow. She was too dizzy to stay standing though, already leaning towards Ashi it was difficult to steady herself as Ashi caught her stumbling easily, a heavy arm steadying her as it snaked around her waist and held her close. Her flush deepened, Ashi’s skin was burning, singing hers, and yet, she could not find it in herself to pull away, one hand coming down to clutch the hand that was pressed against her hip while the other was still trapped in Ashi’s, “Come sit with me.” The words were messy, tongue still heavy with drink and now even worse off with the dizziness, “Of course.” Ashi’s voice was as smooth as ever and Eco considered it completely unfair in the best possible ways. They fell against an empty quilt that lay just outside the circle of the fire, Eco had done this hundreds of times, traveled the roads that lead to the other Kingdoms to participate in the Festivals, helping the hookah tents find their plots and set up before drifting between serving the wandering customers and ensuring that the performers had their supplies. She was not fortunate enough to be a merchant, and, sometimes she did not mind. The constant, incessant pressure to be a Merchant, especially when one hailed from the Desert Kingdom was enough to crush her bones to dust if she were not careful. Eco did not enjoy tinkering with things, nor did she find comfort in weaving or, battle, she found simplicity to be her place and she enjoyed it. Much to the scorn of her mother. But, years after her placement in the lounges she had found Ashi, boisterously yelling out her wares to the crowds, a true Merchant’s daughter. One that would carry on the family name, their craft, honored and revered by all those who met her in her path, a Merchant King. And yet, Eco was simple. No riches would ever fall her way, no honor or glory, no place in the wandering councils. She would simply drift by, like the sand atop the golden dunes of the desert, she would be forgotten, her place swiped the moment she dared something new, “What troubles you?” Ashi’s hand was suddenly on her cheek, the spark of heat rekindling the fiery glow that was her cheeks. She looked upon her so kindly, so softly, it was almost unbearable and an echo of hurt reverberated through her chest, tightening her lungs and forcing a breath from her lips, “It’s nothing. Apologies.” Eco smiled lightly, ducking her head in hopes of hiding the redness of her cheeks, involuntarily brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Ashi clicked her tongue, already reaching for her cheek once more and forcing Eco to face her, of course, she could never lie to Ashi and get away with it, “Nothing? You’re smile had gone, I don’t believe that is nothing.” “Oh hush you.” She couldn’t hold back the small laugh that followed but, she didn’t pull away this time, her smile already fading the more she thought, “Why dance with me? Why dance Jüta? I am simple and plain, and you, you’re one of the Kings.” Ashi’s face softened, tilting her head just enough that the shadows danced along her features, the flickering fire painting fading strips of light against her skin, “Because I fancy you,” Eco’s breath caught, she said it so plainly, as if it were the most common fact that had ever been uttered, “Simple? Plain? Those are not the words I would use to define you.” “Then how would you define me?” “Lovely, kind, sharp-witted, strong-“ Eco held her hand up, unable to take any more of Ashi’s softened words. Her cheeks were ablaze, already smiling too much for her to take as she looked away again. There wasn’t enough time for her to react as Ashi caught her wrist and she felt the rest of her lips against her palm, Snapping back towards her Eco was at a loss for words, each attempt dying on her tongue and Ashi smiled, “I fancy you, Eco, I have for quite some time.” “You’re a Merchant-“ “I am.” Ashi interjected, already moving Eco’s hand to rest on her cheek, fingers pressed against the back of her hand tenderly as she leaned into Eco’s touch, “But, you often forget, I am unwed, and, Merchant Kings are allowed to do as they wish.” Ashi’s voice was low and soft, she turned her head again, pressing another kiss to her wrist, Eco did not pull away. Her breath was caught in her chest, she could hardly draw any, only able to stare at her with wide eyes. Ashi knew exactly what she was doing, Eco did as well but, there was a cloying fear all the same, the butterflies in her stomach that forced it tight and that strange sort of desperation to thrum through her veins. They had spent years being friends, years Eco had spent loving Ashi in a captive silence only for all of it to somehow come to its peak all at once, “The only thing stopping me now is you.” Ashi’s breath brushed against the delicate skin of Eco’s wrist, lips just a breath away from her drumming veins, “Will you have me?” For a moment Eco thought she had not heard her, that all of this was a trick of the drink and the dizziness of their dance, but, it was true. She had heard her, she had asked her in every possible way, in their dance, in her kisses, blessings that only Merchants could give to those with no gold in their veins. Her heart leaped into her throat once more, all she was able to do was nod dumbly at her question, words lost on her tongue, thrown to the Gods who were the only ones to bear witness to one of the thirteen Merchant Kings ask a common woman to be their bride. Ashi’s smile returned, warm and bright against the darkness of the night, Eco had not noticed that she had begun to lean forward, had hardly the mind to notice that Ashi was doing the same, smile melting away into something soft and open, asking, and Eco answered. Finally closing that gap, hand coming to cup Ashi’s cheek tenderly as they kissed, ages of silent love for one another pouring from them, Ashi’s thumb brushing her wrist so tenderly, so lightly. She traced her veins, still locked in their breathless kiss that time itself had seemed to pause for, tender and yet, pressing at the same time Eco only caring for the woman before her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You look just like her.” Jasmine squares her shoulders, keeping her back straight as if she had much of a choice in this ridiculously tight corset. Deep purple is the color of her gown, threads of brilliant gold depict the endless blanket of stars that currently paint the sky above. The flowing sleeves lined with the phases of the moon. It is unlike any of the other gowns she owns, made just for her. Only for her. Her green eyes scan the verdant gardens filled with life, Dukes and Ladies mingle about with crystalline glasses filled with mulled wine and fine spirits. Conversations melding together into a dull murmur that blends in with the music filling the empty spaces. She is reminded of the delicate golden mask that rests on her face. It does so little to act as a mask, more so a decoration piece that highlights her high cheekbones and fox-like features. Almost everyone here already knows who she is anyway, there isn’t much reason to attempt to hide in the slightest. Her red hair like a bloody waterfall that cascades down her back in partially-tamed curls. There is a sense of elegancy about her all within the same colors that cover her. Servants had found ways to decorate her fingers and ears in gold, rubies decorating her neck and what almost looks like liquid gold dripping from her shoulders over the gown. And, even though she stands on the very side of the garden, just at the edges of the hedge maze where a great bonfire is being danced around in the middle, her gaze is fixed on one rather inelegant looking man. Her long fingers wrap tighter around the glass she hasn’t sipped from at all, she stands still as if turned to stone. The man wears a black doublet, deep as the shadows that linger within the blank spaces between flames, deep as raven wings. But, he is anything but. The man is earth struck with rain, with the warmth of the sun in his honey-brown eyes and a smile so dazzling he charms all that fall within his range. A mop of brown hair that curls at the very ends seemingly untamable to the very end. Jasmine knows this man well. Knows him better than he would prefer she’s sure of it. Lord Tarron is how he is addressed, here at least. In other places, he is unknown, a shadow. A walking vex that haunts the very edges of a dreamless sleep where no Gods, monsters or demons dare tread. And he is the one that Jasmine stares down, he is the one that drives her aching stillness into an itch that demands movement. The ache recedes, she breathes in the cool night air filled with the scent of bergamot and lavender and reminds herself of the cool touch of steel against her thigh. Letting out the long breath through parted lips, she sends one soundless, resigned prayer to Gods that no longer listen to her, that had never once listened to her. She should be feeling vindicated, she should be feeling rage. Retribution right at the very edge of the garden where he stands clueless to her presence simply because he does not wish to see her. He is a shadow, she is a ghost. Where he haunts the empty halls, crowded in the corners where emptiness lingers. She occupies the spaces between words, what lays unspoken, what hangs heavy between breaths. The turning of a page where one does not know what lays next. Short work makes the space between them shrink, easy and smooth strides that make her skirts whisper against the grasses. A smile that hides everything playing upon her lips, “Lord Tarron,” her voice echoes smoothly, honey in milk, “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of properly meeting you.” Fingers loosening against the glass she finally wills herself to take a sip. The mulled wine slides over her tongue, liquid that does so little to quell the dryness in her throat. Lord Tarron smiles, dazzling, warm and welcoming. But, she does not fawn over him as he expects, she lies in wait instead, “Ah, it seems we haven’t,” he gives a formal tilt of his head, she sees the single golden erring glint in the firelight as it falls from his hair in a long glittering chain, “Lord Tarron, my lady…” “Jasmine.” Her smile grows into a crescent of white teeth, thin and polite. “Lady Jasmine, what a beautiful name.” He raises his glass and she does the same, recognizing his complement though she knows it’s only formality. Her mind is a war, never-ending and though currently bloodless she prepares for yet another sort of fight, one where trust and diplomacy are the swords and he words will spell death. Pleasantries are exchanged, then comes the easier things. Talks of homelands and lighthearted gossip. Men like him always wish to know all the dirty little secrets that many try to hide, so, she uses that. Tells him of the recent scandal between the Duke Raleigh and Lady Victoria, watches his eyes glint with intrigue, his smile less warm than before as he asks ‘What then?’ over and over again. She’s practiced this, hundreds of times over and a hundred times again. Repeated many white lies and whispered the the frivolous implications over and over again until they fell from her lips like wine that drips from barrel to cup. Filling his head with sweetnesses that paint a much more delicate picture of her than the woman that stands before him. And when she laughs, he laughs, when she smiles so does he. It is exactly as planned, almost too good to be true. Especially when his fingers brush against hers and when she looks his eyes dance with mirth and his smile has softened. She allows a delicacy in the tilt of her head, an innocence that betrays nothing of what she doesn’t want him to see. The night is long, and they are well into it, and he is playing a game he doesn’t know the rules to. A game she has made, a fly in a spider’s web that does not yet know he’s tying the noose around his own neck. A brush against her necklace, attention pulled to the line of her throat, the glint of her earrings as she pushes her hair back. All distractions, all lures in the darkened pool of this treacherous game, and she’s winning. Too good to be true, but she will not balk at the chance. She counts the glasses that pass his lips, one, two, four, five. Lips stained red and smile wide and wild with laugher as it grows bolder. Another touch, his fingers dancing over her arm and the slide of a glance to the side. No words are needed, the silence that stands between them for just the breath of a pause is all she needs. Where she occupies the space where he dare not go without acknowledgement. She allows him to pull her deeper into the garden, where the moon and stars their only witnesses to what will transpire. He thinks passion. She knows vengence. “You are fire under sky,” he whispers, the heat from his closeness chasing away the familiarity of the night, “and yet, we have talked the night away I still feel I will burn if I stray too close. What is it that beckons me to burn about you, Jasmine?” His question is a whispered tentative caress that is meant to feel silken. It grates against her skin instead and she is reminded the cold touch of steel against her thigh. A gentle smile, the last that she has to offer as she shakes her head, “I do not know what you mean, Lord Tarron.” “Playing the fool, I know you.” His cups catch up to him, words that string together to leave no spaces, no gaps where she lies in wait. Her smile vanishes, she should be feeling rage, revenge right at the tip of her tongue. But, all she feels is the bite of the cold of night, “Tell me, Lord Tarron, where have you buried my mother?” His eyes widen, realization finally dawning on the man that took from her. The man that thought he had won. The man that thought he had escaped the monsters that he had created so many years ago. He stumbles backwards but her mind whispers to the earth, a root uncurls from it like a grasping hand and wraps around his ankle. Rendering him stuck, he must face his monsters as everyone must do at one point. His breaths come out in shortened ragged gasps, “Y-you-“ “Where have you buried my mother?” She asks again, green eyes silvery underneath the moonlight. A child born of both magic and flesh, a father struck with such grief his heart crumbled to peat and moss. A child that knows the shadow that had killed her mother, knows him better than he would like. Cold steel against her thigh sings a quiet melody as she pulls it into her fingers, a sharpened glint that flashes against the darkness. He flails, undignified, scrabbling at the earth that he falls to, his ankle trapped. Pathetic. This, the man that had killed her mother, a Queen. This the man that toppled a Kingdom now staring wide-eyed and terrified of the monster that he created. She knows him, and he knows her. “I had to. She was poisoning the land. A blight upon the world.” His words mean nothing to her, “Jasmine, please, find kindness find understanding-“ “Answer my question.” Her voice is ice, the sea lapping against sun-warmed stones and he holds his breath as if cursed to die if he utters the words. Perhaps he is, she does not care. He will die either way. A step closer and the terror returns to his face and she finds that this is much more satisfying than what she had dreamed of. His terror is sweeter this way, honey against her tongue, fairy fruit in her wine. He bows his head, no longer the polite simplicities, no, he bows his head in reverence, “In the Shadow Wood. Underneath the Ash tree.” He says it so simply, as if such information will spare him, as if she will spare him. He is tying his own noose and she has just gotten the one thing she needs. She takes a breath, the crisp night air filling her lungs, there is no scent here. None that matter. Looking up to the stars she feels- nothing. And it is that nothingness she will cling to for the rest of her days. Her fingers tighten around the blade’s handle, cold against her skin that suddenly feels overly hot. Closing the gap between them she stares down the shadow, the man that she had sought for so many years as he trembles in the fear that she revels in seeing. Good. “You look just like her…” He whispers, as if speaking to an old friend, “She too had blood in her hair and was fire under the sky.” And there it comes, the rage. The insurmountable fury. It is fast, easy, the plunge of the knife into his throat where he can say no more. Blood bubbles where once air occupied, his eyes wide with shock and terror as his mouth falls open and red creeps upwards between his lips. Trickles of red that fall onto the grass in dark splashes. Like wine.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”Over and over again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”And again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.” It just- wouldn’t work. He had called a hundred-no- a thousand times at least. He had tried again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”And again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”And again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.” Always the same. Always the same damn voice. Always the same message, over and over and over again. He’s sure he can hear it in his sleep now. He’s sure he hears it even when he’s not trying again, and again, and again, and- “Josh?” Josh looks up from his fidgeting hands, realizing a little too late that he’s picked a hang-nail a little too far and made it bleed. His breaths come out uneven for a moment, a stuttering sort of inhale that he’s not sure why it got caught in his throat. He clears it, at least to try, “Y-yes?” His voice doesn’t sound quite right, but, it hasn’t sounded right in a while now. He’s probably just thirsty. The Doctor, Mr Alan, sighs heavily, putting his clipboard down before pinching the bridge of his nose in obvious frustration, “Where did you go just now?” He asks plainly, seemingly done with- whatever- Josh had just done. Or maybe, what he didn’t do. He doesn’t know. He tilts his head, a half-formed question on his tongue as he wipes his thumb over his jeans, smearing the small drop of blood that had formed there, “S-sorry? What was that?” He tries to smile, feels wrong, so he stops and instead fixes the Doctor with an apologetic look. “Where did you go? You just, kind of, blanked on me. Where did you go just now?” “I don’t…” “Look, Josh, we’re clearly not getting anywhere.” The Doctor stands up with another long and heavy sigh, “We were talking about your friends, the ones that got lost in the woods when you went on that camping trip, remember?” Josh’s face seems to light up with recognition and he actually does smile this time, a small breath of a laugh leaving him, “Oh! You mean Ben, Max and Emily!” He says happily, his friends, right, “They’re fine! Just probably lounging around in the van like they always do, I can give them a call if you want.” He rolls his eyes waving his hand out a little to brush off the normal antics of his friends. He reaches for his pocket, patting where his cell phone normally is but, he doesn’t feel it. There’s that familiar moment of panic, he doesn’t feel his phone. Shit, he must’ve dropped it somewhere. He starts looking around, grumbling a little about his ADHD and how it always makes him lose stuff the moment he puts it down, “Josh.” The Doctor says his name rather harshly and Josh stops to look at him with furrowed brows, “You don’t have a cellphone anymore. You haven’t had a cellphone in over a year. You can’t call anyone.” “That’s- what-“ Josh is sent fumbling. His head is a strange sort of mess that he has to wade through repeatedly and after another brief moment, his shoulders slump. He’s right. His hand slides off his pocket. He doesn’t have a cellphone, not anymore. He- he lost it. In the river. It didn’t work anyway. There was no signal. Not where they were. Josh’s eyes go to the window, just outside are trees, beautiful pines that stretch on for miles and miles and miles and miles, and- He shakes his head and swallows thickly. Trying to force back the lump in his throat, “What were we talking about again?” He asks the Doctor, tilting his head and fixing him with another apologetic look. He’s so air-headed sometimes, the ‘space cadet’ as his friends call him. Called him. Where were they anyway? He hadn’t seen them in a while and they hadn’t texted him either. Highly unlike them. Probably fucking. He rolls his eyes only for them to land back on the Doctor who fixes him with a blank stare and a raised eyebrow causing him to shrink back into himself, fingers fidgeting with a hang-nail he hadn’t noticed before. The Doctor sighs again but fixes Josh with an impassive sort of look that makes his skin crawl, “What do you remember from your camping trip, with your friends Ben, Max, and, Emily? Anything that you can recall, I’d like to hear it, Josh. Don’t worry about staying on topic either, I know how your ADHD can act up. I’m just here to listen.” The Doctor smiles and Josh feels just a little better, he was a nice man, Doctor Alan. Is a nice man. Josh knows his face, knows that he’s got a wife and a little girl, knows that his favorite color is green- no- blue- no- yellow. His favorite color is yellow. He shakes his head again. Back on track. Back on track. He takes a breath, then another, and another. His throat is really dry, but he can’t have water, not until he’s done talking with the Doctor. He clears his throat again, “Well, Emily suggested we all head over to uhm- uh- Maryland…” he trails off for a moment, thinking, “Burkittsville. Tiny ass town with like nothing going on right, she wanted to get out into the ‘great outdoors’ and go on this camping trip just for fun really.” His demeanor changes, happy, lighthearted, easygoing. The Doctor watches. “So, you know Max, he can’t say no to his girlfriend so he drags me and Ben along with her crazy little stupid idea. Of course, Ben didn’t really need ‘convincing’ he was willing to go anywhere Emily was. Emily definitely shouldn’t have even been around Ben at the time because she had cheated on Max with him back at the summer pool party. You know, it was really damn awful to have to go take a piss only to find your best friend’s girlfriend fucking chewing on another dude’s face.” He shakes his head again, rolling his eyes exasperatedly before waving his hand out as if to grab the topic of conversation back into his hand. Camping trip. Camping trip. “Anyway!” He says loudly, a heavy sigh leaving him, “We get out there, no cell service by the way, so like, don’t even think that it’ll be a fun little outing. Boring as fuck hot dog cookouts and ‘scary’ ghost stories are about all you’ll get. And not to mention all the weird shit these kids kept pulling on us. Making rock piles and little weird stick hangings all over the place. That fucking sucked.” He looks outside again, at the pines, so many pines. Rough bark and sharp needles, deep, deep brown. So brown it’s almost black. Good enough to hide. Good enough to hide. “And! And,” he holds a finger up, “It rained! Every damn night. The entire thing sucked so damn bad and of course, the three of them thought it would be great to hike during the day and then camp at night. Ugh, you have no idea how much it sucked to hear Emily and Max fuck nearly every damn night only for Emily to crawl into Ben’s tent right after. Gross.” Creaking in the wood, the rustle of plastic, a tear, a scream, then- nothing. Nothing at all. “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.” Again, and again. “Of course, I’m not sure how she fucking did it, but Emily somehow got lost going to take a piss right after leaving Max’s tent to go hole up with Ben, and she started screaming and screaming like a banshee. It was awful. It was raining too, so of course, we go out to try and find her lost ass, but she keeps going opposite way of where we’re all hollering, and she just keeps screaming.” He waves his hands out a little, clearly over Emily’s attitude, “She then thinks it’s a great idea to hide in this crazy old cabin that none of us had even seen before and…” he trails off. Dark. All dark. Empty. “The house was empty.” He doesn’t realize that he’s saying it. His voice is flat. The Doctor watches. “Dusty, dark, empty. Max was… Max was… behind me. Ben… I had to use my phone’s flashlight. It was- dead- no- almost. Almost.” Pines taller than the sky, rain louder than screams. “Emily was… In the corner. Sad. Crying. Screaming. She… a- a knife- crazy bitch.” He laughs lightly, blinking at nothing, his hands fidgeting, a hang nail he hadn’t noticed before. The Doctor watches. “Ben… Ben… Fell…” A scream, a swipe, a gurgle, a dull thud. “Max tried to help, he can’t say no to his girlfriend.” Screaming, fighting, a few words, nothing. Silence. Punishment. “My phone died, it was raining outside. It gets really dark outside, I’m… I’m kinda scared of the dark.” Thump, drip. Thump, drip. Whispers. Thump, drip. Thump, drip. “I freaked, I think I was just tired. Max had a really good ghost story a few nights before.” Punishment. Corner. Sobbing. Silence. “I grabbed Max and we booked it. He said Emily was right behind him so we just… kinda ran. I could’ve sworn our camp wasn’t too far away. Ben had one of those solar lights in his tent, we could see it for miles. But… I guess the rain kinda blotted it out. We needed to get Ben to the hospital. The fall kinda took it out of him.” Blood. Blood. Blood. Black against sand. Black against dust. Black against his hands. He scratches his head, nails digging into his scalp roughly. Drip. Drip. Drip. “We- we got to the cars instead. Lucky break. But…” he trails off, “Max was right behind me… He had Emily with him.” He looks down at his hands again, his thumb bleeding more now, a hangnail he hadn’t noticed before. “But… They… Ben fell. We had to go back for Ben. I…” He seems to come back to himself once more but it’s brief, “I tried calling them, but, I guess they left their phones back at camp. My car had enough juice left for me to charge my phone.” No. No. He had lost his phone. In the river. It didn’t work anyway. “And… When morning came, their cars were gone,” No. “So, I went home.” No. No. No. No. No. “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”Again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”Again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.” Splashes, blackness, screams, blood. Again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”Running, wheezing, panting, blood. Again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”Roaring water, jumping, scrambling, wheezing, blood. It’s on his hands, it's on his shirt, it’s on his face, it’s in his hair. Again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”Flashlight, blinking, running, panicking, screaming, running, throwing. Again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”It doesn’t work. It never worked. Again, and again and again. Daylight. Night. Daylight. Night. Cold. Hot. Cold. Again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”Night is when it comes, the screams, the whispers, the punishment, teeth in cloth, rocks in the sand. Claws in the dirt, rushing water, raining, raining, raining. Sticks tied together, hanging, hanging, hanging. A prank. A jab. A falsity. Not real. Not real. Not. Real. Real. Real. Real. Again, “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”Real. So real. Warm hands, cold, wood in his thumb, a hang-nail he hadn’t noticed before. His head itches. He had to call them again. They had to answer this time. This time. This time. This time. In the house. In the cabin. In the woods. Whispers. Screams. Rain. Pines. “We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.”“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please hang up and try again.” “Josh?” Josh looks up from his fidgeting hands, realizing a little too late that he’s picked a hang-nail a little too far and made it bleed. His breaths come out uneven for a moment, a stuttering sort of inhale that he’s not sure why it got caught in his throat. He clears it, at least to try, “Yes?” His voice doesn’t sound quite right, but it hasn’t sounded right in a while now. He’s probably just thirsty.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
His face drops, hands tightening in his, “No… Please…” Jespar’s words are desperate and shaky, his lips hardly even move as he whispers his plea. But Cayden won’t meet his gaze, his brows furrowed gently as he stares at his boots against the old and worn underground bridge. Just above, above, he- he feels it. Only a little though. A burn that settles in the very back of his head, deep within his bones to the point where he’s not sure if it’s real or not. Is anything real anymore? He’s not sure. The Cleansing. The very thing they’ve all been trying to prevent. All of it a great big fucking foley that none of them could actually stop. Cayden’s eyes fill with tears again for what feels like the nth time. A bitter sort of frown creasing his otherwise impassive face. Jespar has always been the only person to ever see the half-Kiléan man cry. The only one still left alive at least. Jespar cups his face tenderly, too tenderly, and Cayden almost winces at just how gentle he’s being to him. Just how kind he is being to him. Of all this time, all this time working towards a goal that they were so sure they would make a reality. Only for all of it- every last shred of the damn thing- to just collapse. “Please, you can’t.” Jespar’s voice somehow pierces through the ringing in his ears. The erratic thumping of his heart is somehow the only indication that he is- one was- alive. “You are the last thing- the last person on this blasted earth I have…” Jespar’s voice cracks and it finally causes Cayden’s gaze to flicker up at the taller man. Tears. He had only seen tears once on the man. A dry anger was more befitting Jespar than anything, the dry anger he had when he had yelled at Cayden in the Silver Cloud. The dry anger he had when- when- he stops himself, his mind too preoccupied with the man he loves weeping. Weeping. “No, no, Jespar, don’t. You can’t start that.” Cayden’s words are just as broken, just as weak. Tears fall from his own eyes as he reaches up to cup Jespar’s face, tightly. Desperately. He’s here. He’s real. He exists. Cayden… Cayden… doesn’t. “I can’t let you fade. I’m-“ Cayden takes a breath, “I’m already gone. I have to.” There’s a silence that settles between them, it’s agonizing, terrifying, Cayden can hardly hear anything anymore over the ringing in his ears. The dull thump, thump, thump of his heart, “I have to. I love you, I can’t see you go. I can’t imagine it. I’m the only one left that remains. I cannot let the High Ones win. I just can’t.” He brushes away tears that don’t look right on Jespar’s face. Doesn’t look right. Jespar doen’t have wet anger. But, there’s no anger in those eyes. There’s none. Agony, anguish. That’s all Cayden sees in those beautiful blue eyes. Jespar is the one to still Cayden’s shaking fingers, shaking his head, “But you’re not. You’re not already gone. You’re here, with me.” There. There’s that anger. The determination. That dryness he’s used to, and yet, Jespar’s voice still cracks. Tears still fall, “You belong here, with me. You can’t- please, Cayden. Run. Run away with me. We’ll go to the sky cities, we’ll- we’ll become-“ Cayden shakes his head, a weak sob leaving him, his chest aching, shaking terribly, “I have to.” It sounds so final, even with his broken and weak voice, “Everything else-“ he sucks in a sharp breath, “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve tried to achieve, I cannot let it all go to waste. I cannot just watch it all burn while I have the chance to finally do something right for once.” His shoulders shake, and his knees feel weak. His entire world has been swiped out from under his feet and now he’s losing the last threads he had left to hang on to. It’s all so wrong. It’s all his fault. Jespar’s arms come forward and wrap tightly around Cayden, pulling the man close, and Cayden takes the opportunity to bury his face into the warm and familiar. His mind is filled with unfamiliar, filled with cold-heat that burns him from the inside out. But Jespar is warm. He is familiar. The smell of leather and peaceweed. Him. Cayden holds him tight, so tight, reminding himself that even though he is Fleshless, even though he is some blasphemous iteration of life and eventuality, Jespar is real. This is real. The very last kindness on this earth of pain and suffering. If only he could bask in it forever. When the embrace does end, it ends much too soon, and Cayden is desperate. Desperate for kindness and love and familiarity and warmth. He yanks Jespar into a kiss, his last surely. It is his last. It’s not like their first, not the kind, sweet and slow, and hesitant. No. It’s wild and desperate, cheeks wet with tears and shaking with sobs that he just can’t hold back anymore, pouring all of himself into the man he loves. Pouring all of what he can, everything that made Cayden into- Cayden. Every eventuality. Every bruise, every cut, every breath and beat of his heart. He gives it all to Jespar. He’s the only one to deserve it anyway. He has to; he is the last Emmisarry. The only one left sensible in this pathetic game of chess and magic and cruelty and death. The last kindness. The very last. He steps before the beacon, Tealor lying on the ground sputtering nonsense as the last dregs of his life leave his eyes, and Cayden hardly even spares him a passing glance as he gazes towards the center of the great machine. The question has always rung in his mind since the day he was born, ‘What distinguishes a free man from a slave?’ He’s not entirely sure. But, if he were to guess, it would be the idea of choosing kindness over everything. Is humanity worth saving? Will they simply repeat past cycles? Are they all nothing more than slaves anyway? He’s not sure. There’s been plenty of times when he thought he was only acting in kindness; he wishes that more people chose it. But what makes a man kind when pushed to bear the weight of necessity, then? He takes a breath, looking back at the Sun Temple; the burning in his body is stronger now. Tearing away at his very being, pulling his magic and the version of him away into a nothingness that will turn this entire game into a clean slate. A new High One. He closes his eyes, Jespar is safe, and he is real. And he is choosing a kindness that Cayden had prayed for. And then, he falls back into the beacon, and he burns into that nothingness. And, at the very end of it all, he chooses kindness above all others. He chooses one death over the death of all. He chooses his very last kindness.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
There are many things that Cayden has seen within a life that wasn’t supposed to be his. This particular life, he sees what many consider to be justified, and this instance is no different than the others. Only, it is more prominent. Tharaêl was… interesting, to say the least. Intense, to say the most. He had never once met a man like Tharaêl, sometimes, Cayden wished he never had. And yet, here he is, staring down the machination of the Father before them and the beastly man that is Brother Sorrow, or Letho, breathing hard and dying all at once. Cayden wants nothing more than to quell the rage that burns within the man, to remind him of something that will not make his blood boil and fill his heart with hate. But, it is not made to be. Letho is dead. Tharaêl is silent. The fight, the portal, the chambers, the spell. It’s all too much for Cayden alone to deal with, choices and occurrences feel like threads of lace that have been tangled so tightly it hurts his mind. He hardly even remembers the fight, let alone anything that has happened over the last few months. What he knows now is that the entire building is missing, there’s a crater in the earth, and Tharaêl is staring down into the crater without any words. Cayden comes forward slowly, as if afraid to spook an animal, a part of him so tired, so exhausted that it’s hard to even think of moving. But, he does it anyway. Coming up to look down into the empty crater along with his… friend? He hopes so. But he’s not sure. Sometimes he’s sure Tharaêl only sees Cayden as a means to an end. An outlet for his anger and his hate. With Cayden being calm and collected most of the time, it’s not unusual for his friends to see him as a punching bag that they can just unload onto. Sometimes he wishes he never once met this man. Cayden had never met someone with so much hate in their heart. The world is cruel, yes. It is unkind to many, yes. It is especially unkind to Tharaêl, yes. But Tharaêl seems to live off of it. Thrives off of hate. It’s the only thing he finds use for in his head, in his heart, and there hasn’t been space for friendship or even a common goal that benefits them both. Only benifiting Tharaêl. Cayden is just the person he chose to keep around and have him ‘help’ uncover not only The Father’s plan but also his lost memories and life before this. As much as Cayden wishes he could, he cannot cure Tharaêl of his hate. Especially not now that all of it was for naught. Cayden takes a breath, letting it out in a slow rush, “What now?” He asks quietly, if not careful, his voice would have washed away with the wind. Tharaêl doesn’t seem to even notice his question until he starts speaking again in that- tone- that tone that Cayden is used to hearing now. “What do you mean? There’s nothing else to do now, we failed. The Father got what they wanted and we failed.” “That doesn’t mean that we just give up.” Cayden’s words come out flatter than he intends; it’s been a very long day, and he dislikes how disingenuous he sounds in his own head. Tharaêl lets out what almost sounds like a bitter laugh and it startles Cayden a little and then, it starts. The rambling, the rant, it sets him on edge. Tharaêl talks like there’s no use to life anymore, that he is nothing and because of ‘his’ failure to hate just enough to be able to stop The Father; then he might as well not exist. He rambles about the end of things and it’s nearly on instinct that Cayden suddenly grabs hold of Tharaêl’s arm without thinking, “Don’t you dare.” His voice lowers, he’s seen this before. He knows this. He’s not letting it happen. Tharaêl stops his ramblings, and Cayden stares at him with wide eyes and a tight jaw, “Do not. I am begging you, Tharaêl. Do not do what it is you’re thinking.” “How do you even know what it is that I’m thinking?” “Because I know you, I know you too well for you to even think about doing such a thing and you’re stopping right now.” His voice thankfully firms out, there’s no more shaking, no more tremors, “I know you hate everything, I know you don’t have room in your heart for the love that you’ve lost or the eyes to see the beauty of the world right now and that’s fine. But, you have reason to live. You have reason to be here. If not for yourself, for Letho. For his memory.” Tharaêl’s brows rise, and he takes a step back, Cayden’s hand falls from his arm and instead, he stands before the edge, facing the man he had just talked down. That was months ago now, Cayden periodically checks up on his now rarely openly hateful friend. He’s still never met a man who purely lives off of hate, who uses it to keep himself alive. But now, he lives for the memory of his friend, he lives because he can, because he should. The world is cruel and full of hate. But it is still a place where his friends live. They live.